Free Texas Dad (Fatherhood) by Roz Denny Fox

him.”
    “Hmm. Your dad’s father died of a stroke. Salt drives up the blood pressure, and high blood pressure can lead to a stroke.”
    “I forgot until Erma and Daddy were talking about it today that his mom died of cancer when he was eight. I wish people didn’t die.”
    J.J. glanced up from rinsing utensils. “It’s hard for those left behind to make sense of death, Zoey. I lost a best girlfriend in high school. Gina Mahoney. She died in a water skiing accident. And in college a good friend, Tom Corbin, was killed on his motorcycle. We all had a hard time with his loss. He was your dad’s friend, too.”
    “Erma said all living things have a season. And with people, some have short seasons and some have long ones. That doesn’t seem fair.”
    J.J. didn’t want to get into a deep philosophical discussion with Mack’s daughter. She covered the salad. “The meat loaf is already starting to smell good. Listen, I’ll go check on Erma, then we can see if any of those cookbooks have tips on repairing unplanned holes in layer cakes.”
    “It’s kinda funny when you think about it,” Zoey said, grinning.
    “To you. But I was probably feeling too smug about how nice it turned out,” J.J. agreed, sounding wry. “My mom always says pride goes before a fall.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “It means don’t get too full of yourself. Be right back.” J.J. set the salad in the fridge as she headed for Erma’s room.
    “Erma.” Bending down, J.J. shook the woman gently by the shoulder. “Supper will be ready in fifteen minutes. I doubt the doctor wants you to miss eating. Let me help you into the bathroom. You can wear your robe to supper.”
    Erma roused minimally. “I feel wrung out,” she mumbled. “Give me ten more minutes to gather myself. Oh, mercy...did you cook?”
    “With Zoey’s help. Will you promise not to go back to sleep if I give you ten minutes? I baked a cake, but a soup can fell out of the cupboard and landed in the middle of it. I’ll try to camouflage the damage, then I’ll come back for you.”
    Erma eased up on one elbow. At the end of a long groan, she said, “The men like fruit. There are sliced strawberries in a green container in the fridge.”
    “Perfect. See you soon,” J.J. said from the doorway.
    “Is Erma okay?” Zoey asked.
    “She needs ten minutes to pull herself together. She offered a solution for our cake problem.” J.J. explained about the berries. “There’s a lot you can learn from Erma, Zoey.”
    “About cooking.” Zoey handed J.J. the berry container. “At school almost all the girls in my class have pierced ears,” she said out of the blue. “In seventh grade girls wear skirts or dresses...and makeup. Erma only ever buys me jeans and plaid shirts. I don’t want to hurt her feelings. That’s a big reason why I sent your magazine that letter. I want my dad to meet and marry somebody who’ll do mom stuff with me.”
    While she mixed strawberries with some ready-whipped cream she found in the fridge, J.J. considered Zoey’s hazel eyes and reddish braids—totally unlike Mack’s nearly black hair and smoky eyes. As she’d done earlier at the library, J.J. tried to picture Faith, whom she hadn’t known well. She thought Faith had blue eyes and ash-toned hair. But either parent could certainly have had red hair in their backgrounds.
    “What about your grandmother Adams?” J.J. asked. “Is she still around?”
    “Yeah, but I don’t see them much. They don’t believe girls should ever cut their hair, or wear skirts that show their knees. I wore jeggings at Christmas, and Grandpa called them sinful.” Zoey licked the spoon J.J. had set aside. “All my friends at school wear jeggings. I don’t see what’s sinful about them.”
    More memories came back to J.J. Faith’s dad was a preacher of a very conservative church. Faith had defied them to attend Tech on a scholarship. Her parents had ordered her to turn it down to attend a bible college. Her