Part One Hundred And Fifty Six
When Jo awoke on the Saturday morning, George was sprawled sound asleep next to her, breathing softly, and with a look of total tranquility on her face. She looked so peaceful in sleep, that Jo could barely put this woman lying here, with that of the furious being of last night. She knew why George had been so angry, and in truth, she had also felt the rage building in her at John's blatant disregard of the seriousness of the situation. But George shouldn't have slapped him. Jo knew that George had felt guilty for reacting in that way, and she also knew that George would eventually summon up the courage to apologise to John. Would she, Jo, have slapped him, she wondered? Had she ever been angry enough with him to do something like that? She didn't know. Almost as if she could feel Jo's wandering scrutiny, George gradually opened her eyes. George felt so comfortable, lying here in Jo's bed, the inviting warmth of her body only inches away. "You look so peaceful when you sleep," Jo said quietly, seeing that George was awake. "I suppose there has to be a first time," George replied with a yawn. They moved into each other's arms, both feeling that drowsy, early morning softness that demanded no urgency. Nothing needed to be said, because no words were remotely adequate to express how content they felt. They could hear the birds gently twittering through the open window, the soft, early morning breeze promising another hot July day.
A few hours later when she eventually tore herself away from Jo's gentle company, George felt that lazy, sultry type of relaxed that only a sunny day could bring. After dropping in at home to change her clothes, she thought she might just call on Daddy. It was funny, she mused to herself, that whenever she had something to confess, she always sought out her father, even if she didn't really want to tell him what she'd done. If it hadn't been for the memory of what she'd done to John weighing a little on her mind, she would have born that aura of serenity that made her eyes shine with happiness. But she had done wrong, and when she was ready, she must ask forgiveness for it. But in the meantime, it probably wouldn't do her any harm to seek Daddy's counsel.
It was almost one o'clock, and she found her father sitting out on the patio eating lunch. Looking very pleased to see her, Joe was about to rise to his feet, when she waved to him to stay where he was. "Come and join me," He invited, gesturing at the bread and cheese on the table in front of him. Retrieving a coffee cup from the house, George poured herself some of the steaming, black liquid from the ornate pot. "This is an unexpected pleasure," Joe said, cutting himself another slice from the crusty loaf. "I've done something that I suspect you will highly disapprove of," She said, helping herself to some Edam, and taking a few grapes from the bowl. Joe smiled. "And since when has that prompted you to appear at my table? On the contrary, it usually makes you avoid my company for as long as possible." "Daddy, have you ever slapped a woman, in the heat of an argument, I mean?" suddenly putting his knife back down on the plate with a clatter, Joe said, "No, certainly not," Making George wonder if she should ever have broached this subject at all. Then, calming down a little, Joe began spreading butter on his bread, and asked, "What happened?" "I had a row with John," George told him miserably. "And no, believe me, you really don't want to know the details." "That's hardly a surprise," Joe said dryly. "Anyway, it all got a bit heated, and I slapped him. I didn't mean too, at least not really, and I felt terrible immediately afterwards." Joe held up a hand. "George, why are you telling me this?" After taking a sip of her coffee, George replied with, "Why do I ever tell you anything slightly suspect about my life, because you usually have something sensible to say on the subject, because occasionally, I need to be told how stupid I am, and because you always listen." Joe thoughtfully munched on his bread and cheese, mulling over what she'd said. It always touched him when she reaffirmed how much she valued his opinion, and he knew he would always listen to her, no matter what it was she had to tell him.
"Unless I am very much mistaken," He began slowly. "John has never raised his hand to you. Now, whilst I don't doubt that he is perfectly capable of making you furious enough to react violently to whatever he might have done, that does not give you an excuse. You, must, apologise, and then try to find a far more amicable way of sorting out your differences." "Yes, I know," She said regretfully. "And I will apologise, really I will. I just feel as though, well, as though everything's becoming a bit too complicated." Her voice had descended into that tight, quiet tone that told him there was a lot more to this assertion than met the eye. Gently removing the coffee cup from her hand, because all in all, he was rather fond of his Royal Doulton, he took her hands in his and asked, "Is... Is this anything to do with Karen?" Immediately, George went absolutely still, the ice cold sweat of fear spreading over her body. Her face assumed the blank, thoroughly noncommittal expression that belied her tension. But she couldn't prevent her eyes from flitting around the garden, looking at everything but him. Tentatively clearing her throat, she said, "What, has this, to do with Karen?" The beginnings of a laugh rumbled away in Joe Channing's chest. "Did you really think, that I wouldn't find out about her?" Joe asked her seriously. "I hoped you wouldn't," George said a little hoarsely, not having been prepared for this little shock in the slightest. Then, furiously withdrawing her hands from his, she tried to dash a few angry tears from her eyes. "How, Daddy, how do you always manage to do this? Why is it, that you always seem to know everything, even when I do my damnedest to keep it from you?" "George," Joe tried to reassure her, putting a hand out and laying it on her shoulder. "You don't need to be quite so afraid of my disapproval. Am I so much of an ogre, that you don't feel able to tell me why you've been, for the most part, so much happier over the last few months?" "I didn't think you would understand," She said quietly, feeling a certain amount of guilt and stupidity that she hadn't trusted him. "And I'm not entirely sure that I do," He said fairly. "But what I do know, is that as far as I am aware, you are happy, and I'm not about to severely disagree with that. I don't understand how you could want more than one person in your life at a time, and I don't understand how or why you would want to be involved with another woman, but I'm not about to alienate my only daughter, just because she is living a life I will never quite understand." "That means a lot to me," George said hesitantly, laying a hand over his where it still rested on her shoulder, signs of affection never having been all that common between George and her father. "But how did you find out?" "Ah," Joe said carefully, not wanting to completely drop John in it. "You mustn't blame John for this." "John told you?" George demanded in outrage. "Not directly, no," Joe tried to placate her. "I am quite capable of making deductions without assistance, you know. During the first rehearsal we had for 'The Creation', I saw the expression on her face when you began to sing. I don't think I've ever seen anyone look quite so enchanted as she did then, except perhaps you, when you stood next to John at the altar. That, and other minor occurrences were what led me to believe that there was far more to your friendship with her than met the eye. At the end of May, when John came to see me about something else, I rather unkindly put him on the spot. I was very impressed. He managed to walk that extremely thin line, between giving me the answer to my question, and yet preserving your confidence by not telling me directly. He said something very enlightening to me that day. He said that this was something you had probably thought about for most of your life, but that you were only now getting round to exploring that side of your character." George blushed. "I sometimes think he knows me far too well," She said a little ruefully. "John also said, that as long as you were happy, he would never want to stand in the way of that, and I happen to think, that this is a sentiment which should not be thrown away in a fit of anger. There aren't many men, George, who would allow you the freedom to discover this particular facet of your personality, at the same time as trying to maintain a relationship with them. I never thought I would say this about John, but his love for you, is something that ought to be protected and encouraged, not violently dismissed, just because I suspect he has been up to his old tricks again." After a moment's silence, she said, "Daddy, why do you always make me feel so humble?" "Because that is one of the duties a father is there to perform," He replied with a warm smile, thinking that no matter how old his daughter might be, he would always think of her as the errant, impetuous young girl, whom he had hopefully brought up to value everything she had.