Page 63 of Dairy and Deadly

They traded small talk about the electrical lines he was running to a new subdivision on the south side of the city. Then he quizzed her about her new job.

“A farm hand, eh?” He looked like he didn’t know what to think about her latest venture.

She was all too happy to reassure him. “I know it sounds crazy, Dad, but it’s been a nice change of pace.”

He still looked doubtful. “What’s your favorite part?”

She didn’t have to think twice about it. “Bottle feeding the calves. They’re absolutely precious.” She launched into a lively description of Brie, Short Stack, and the other two calves. “We have another baby on the way that’ll arrive any day now.”

Her father’s expression relaxed. “You look happy, hon.”

“I’m getting there. Just taking it one day at a time.”

He reached for her hand. “You’ve been through a lot. I just wish…” He lapsed into silence without finishing whatever he’d started to say.

It felt like the perfect opening to launch into her real reason for paying him a visit this evening. “Can I ask you something, Dad?”

“Anything.”

“I know this may just be my emotions talking…” She glanced down at her plate.

“Talk to me, hon,” he pleaded.

She raised her head to meet his gaze again. “Did you keep any of Mom’s stuff?”

“Of course!” His eyebrows rose incredulously. “I kept everything.”

She glanced around them at the newly redecorated home. “I figured that was the case, but everything looks so different from what it used to.”

“Most of it’s in the attic.” He let go of her hand, looking a bit shamefaced. “It’s not a big house, so I had to do some rearranging.”

“It’s okay, Dad.” Her goal wasn’t to pull off old scabs and make him bleed all over again. “I just…” She smiled vaguely up at the ceiling. “Mind if I take a trip down memory lane? Just for a few minutes?”

“Not at all.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “Most of your mother’s things are in those old green Army chests from my military days. Help yourself to anything you like,” he offered magnanimously. “I know that’s what she would’ve wanted.”

Nostalgia flooded her. She stood and turned impulsively to him. “You’re the best!”

He snorted to cover his own emotions. “Oh, please! You don’t want to know how many times I crawled up there and wept like a baby over her sweaters and scarves.” He glanced away, swallowing hard. “Feel free to ignore the tear stains on everything you find up there.”

“Dad,” she whispered, thoroughly shaken. He’d never shown her this side of him before.

“You’ll keep this between us?” He hugged her again before leading her to the garage.

“You know I will.” The attic door was one of those pull-down ones.

He opened it and extended the ladder for her. The dark attic opening gaped above them.

Jeff Perkins patted the side of the ladder. “The pull string to the lightbulb is immediately on your left when you reach the top.”

“I remember.” She smiled her thanks and started climbing. At the top, she turned on the light. While she gazed around the attic, she heard the door to the house open and close as her father left her alone with her memories.

The holiday storage bins and spare suitcases were directly in front of her. The Army green trunks her dad had mentioned were on the far side of the attic, weighed down with holiday wreaths and half-folded moving blankets.

Go figure.She doubted it was an accident that her stepmother had all but buried the last remaining items that had once belonged to her predecessor.

Ashley waded through the minefield of boxes, bins, and castoff pieces of furniture to reach the trunks. To her relief, they weren’t locked. She squatted down beside the first one to set aside the wreaths and blankets covering it. Popping open the lid, she rocked back on her heels, awash with emotion.

“Oh,” she whimpered, immediately recognizing the hand-crocheted lacy doilies that had once graced the nightstands in her parents’ bedroom. They still smelled like her mother’s favorite rose-scented lotion. How was that possible?

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