”“So?”So John told him everything about the evidence he had accumulated, Carol’s distress and his ultimatum.“So you gave her what you thought was an impossible task?” His father laughed at this and took another sip of his cognac.John nodded sheepishly.“But was it?” his father raised an eyebrow. John realised, not for the first time, how perceptive he was.“No Dad, it wasn’t.” He went on to describe the invitations and apologies, all choreographed by Carol, and finally the evening with Jessica.“Got to admire her,” his dad said, sitting back with a gentle smile. John nodded, but his brow was furrowed.“I just find her response when she thought I was guilty, vicious and violent. I mean not even letting me know what I was guilty of?”His father was relaxed. “Why would she react so strongly? Shock? Upset? Why?”“That’s what’s puzzling me.”“Look at it another way. Why are you still so angry, so upset? Why is she and what she’s doing, taking up so much of your attention. Why are you still so. I got up and asked another woman to dance at another table and was turned down again. Now I'm no Redford, but I'm not terribly hard to look at. I'm big, 6' 4" and weigh about 235. I'm 32 and in reasonably good shape. I just don't look cowboy and none of the ladies seemed to be interested in dancing with someone who so obviously wasn't "country".I came back to the table shrugging my shoulders and saying I just should break down and buy some boots and a cowboy hat as it appeared that this was the only way that I could get a dance. A couple of the folks at the table laughed, including Linda. She asked me if I knew how to dance and I said that a wonderful lady 10 years my senior had taught me how. She was so good that she followed all of my mistakes and gave me the confidence that I needed to not step on her feet more than once a night. Well the song "Tight Fitten' Jeans" had just started and Linda said, "Let's go do it." I grabbed her hand and we headed for the floor.Now this dance floor.
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