Page 73 of His Virgin Vessel

"Yeah. You can't give up, can you?"

"Did Asa tell you that?" I pressed. "Last time you saw him."

Joseph Hartman shook his head. "No, but, I mean, it's Asa. I don't need him to tell me what to do. He's already told me and shown me. I know what he would want. And I know he wouldn't want me to just roll over and give up, because he would never do that himself. That's why I'm still here."

The words resonated with me. They might not have been perfectly expressed, but the point they made was crystal clear, as far as I was concerned.

"Anyway," Joseph Hartman concluded, "That's what keeps me going. That's why I don't give up."

He strolled off.

"What?" Risa asked, looking at me.

"What?"

"You've got that look on your face."

"What look? What face?"

"You're planning something."

"I am realizing something," I said in stout defiance.

"No. You were realizing something. Now, you're planning something. I've known you all your life, Cor, and I know which face means what. What are you thinking?"

I was thinking that I had been desperate to see Asa, to talk to him, to have him tell me what to do, when I already knew what he would say. Asa's message to me had been the same since day one, and, little as I had often wanted to hear it, I knew exactly what it was. Asa had told me to re-forge my relationship with my Dad. That didn't necessarily mean that I was wrong to move out. A lot of people get on a whole lot better with their parents once they are no longer living under the same roof. But cutting Dad out, altogether? That, I knew, Asa would disapprove of. Dad was trying to protect me and do what was best for me, and, even if he was going about it in a patronizing and dictatorial fashion, I still had to accept that he had my best interests at heart. Cutting myself off from him was not the answer. That was what Asa would tell me. He would tell me to talk to Dad. And he was right.

I had spent so much of my adult life rebelling against my father and automatically doing the opposite of what he said, simply because he had said it. And where had that gotten us? Where had that gotten me? It had come close to destroying the most important relationship in my life. The only thing that had pulled us back from the brink had been Asa. Then he had gone to prison, and, suddenly, we were at the brink again. Even Dad would have had to admit that Asa had been a major influence for good in our family. What had made the difference was talking, rather than shouting, and addressing our issues head on, rather than running away from them. If I talked to Dad, now, I was sure I could make him understand how I felt about Asa and how important it was to have him in my life, even if it was as a distant figure, whom I only saw on visiting day. I could understand why he didn't want his daughter to be in love with a man she saw so irregularly. That seemed a recipe for misery, but it was nothing to the misery of losing Asa completely.

And the baby? Well, I still wasn't quite ready to play that card. Partly because, once again, I didn't want my child to be a bargaining chip in this game I was playing with Dad. But also, because I genuinely wasn't sure in what direction it would influence Dad. On the one hand, he might go all traditional and insist that the baby deserved its real father, convict or not. That would be great! But, on the other hand, it seemed equally likely that his protective instincts would redouble, as he was now a protective-grandfather, as well as a father. That would just lead to an increase in his objections to my seeing Asa, being in any way connected with his world, or moving out.

# # #

"You're back!" There was no hiding the relief in Dad's voice when I walked in that afternoon.

"Not to stay. All my stuff is already moved in."

"I'm not happy with my daughter living above a bar."

"You're not happy with me living anywhere other than here," I pointed out.

"What's wrong with here? It's safe."

"I can look after myself."

My dad rolled his eyes. "Have you suffered short-term memory loss? Do you perhaps recall how very not safe you have been, of late? You need me to look after you. Perhaps in a few years, when the heat has died down a bit..."

"A few years?!"

"Yes. By that time everyone will have forgotten that you ever even knew Asa."

"You know that's not what I want!"

"But sometimes what you want isn't what's for the best."

"You don't think I'm the best judge of what's best for me?!"

Dad shrugged. "How about we look back at your life and decide if you make good life decisions?"

---