I can get there on my own. you can leave me here alone.
Will he be able to live with being tied to his daughter’s whipping post?
Will he be able to stomach her railing against him the same way Adna had?
He is neither good nor kind.
He is not especially patient, really, despite the storms he is able to weather, unaffected.
He does not know if his daughter will instill these things in him.
If he will be able to grit his teeth and bear it, simply because she is his flesh and blood.
He’d snapped at Adna. She’d finally dredged up all that anger and it had tasted so bitter. It had set his heart to racing. It had threatened to bring him to ruin. His anger had made him cruel and he does not trust that he will be able to hold his tongue simply because Gospel is his daughter.
He swallows his fear, too, although his is born from something else entirely. He doesn’t trust himself not to be driven away by misplaced anger, even now. All he can do is hope for the best. Hope that he can learn how to swallow poison that does not belong to him.
But he takes it. He lets her convince him that it’s true. That she doesn’t hate him, that she won’t ever hate him. That she hadn’t stood there and cried because Adna had chosen him over her. And who is he? No one, really. No one worth choosing, certainly.
Still, there is that half-grin as he nods and allows himself the luxury of believing her. She will learn to love him, maybe. And he will learn to believe himself worth of their love. Because this is what having a family means and if he concentrates hard enough, if he allows her to kiss him, allows himself to hold her, he’ll think that he deserves it.
“I hope you’re right,” he murmurs and closes his eyes, sighs heavy. Their peace depends on it.
BETHLEHEM
I'm just tryin' to do what's right. oh, a man ain't a man unless he's fought the fight.
