Lead Me Not. James B. Johnson
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“Not blonde, but champagne.”
“Oh. I see. Well, we’ve always been frank between each other since you and Mother—”
“Tell me about Aloha Blaze.”
Denise sank back into the sofa. “Very frank. May the Lord have mercy upon our souls.”
“Our? Or just mine?” he asked.
“I was being diplomatic.”
“Who is she?”
“Just another kid in the group. Well, not really in the group. Part of it, but a loner. Gets along only with certain people. Not a part of the group-think, the teenage thing where they all want to be alike, but different. Deceptively smart. Very enterprising. She’s different. She doesn’t care what others think. Does her own thing.”
“Family?”
“She’s an only child. Her parents are what they call original hippies. They still have long, scraggly hair, wear beads, smoke dope, stuff like that.”
“Christ.” He remembered meeting them once or twice, just in passing.
“Daddy! Do not take the Lord’s name in vain.”
“Sorry. I can never get used to you being—”
“Born-again?”
“Yeah, that.”
She shook her head. “I’m not one for self-analysis. But you know full well it’s your fault.”
“Because of me and your mother?”
“Yep. You both drove me to it, probably in self-defense.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Denise took a sip of tea. “You will have to, one day. It’s something which needs purging—”
“Pop psychology, young lady.”
“I’ve some of Buddy’s combativeness,” she said grimacing. I’ve tried to channel it into my love for the Lord Jesus....”
“Buddy will grow up one day,” Rudd said and prayed he was right, “and come to his senses. Take the edge off that boy and the world beware.” Buddy was something akin to a male Aloha: very sharp with a raw edge. That rawness Rudd hadn’t been able to blunt and had led to a falling out between father and son. Rudd and Buddy had butted heads too often.
“Even before I was born again and really took Jesus as my savior,” Denise continued. “Remember you always prayed with me?”
“I do. Not bad for a heathen.”
“I didn’t say you were.” Her tone was defensive.
“Your mother wouldn’t take any interest.”
“I know, Daddy, I know. It was your influence....”
How will I ever know if I did a good job? he scolded himself. But by God, I tried. He stirred his now-warm drink with his pointy finger.
“Every night it was, ‘Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep....’” Denise shifted her right leg under her left leg and faced him on the couch. “That was always a very special time to me. I liked praying.”
Well, how about this one, Rudd thought abruptly. Lead me not into temptation—
“We’ve always had that special relationship,” Denise continued. “That’s why I’m concerned now.”
“About Aloha?”
“Do you have any idea of her age?” asked Denise pointedly.
Now he felt defensive. He eyed Denise. His voice was level. “She is eighteen, isn’t she?” Aloha hadn’t really said her age. Her language had been evasive.
Why?
CHAPTER THREE
DENISE
“She is eighteen, isn’t she?” her father asked.
Denise didn’t know what to say. So she didn’t say it.
Her father fixed her with a stare. “Well?”
“She says she is, Daddy.” Which was true, as far as it went. It wasn’t what Denise thought anymore, not since the pizza conversation. Aloha had been elusive. Dread seeped through Denise. Why did not—or could not—Aloha drive?? Should I mention this to Daddy? It was basic: if Aloha was eighteen she could drive. If she was under sixteen, she could not drive. OhmyGod!
“It’s important,” he said. “I don’t think I mind the age differential. But if the girl is not yet eighteen—”
Denise seized her opportunity. “You don’t trust what she says?” Why didn’t he just ask her?
Six looked up at his daughter sharply. “You trying to say something?”
“A simple question, Daddy. From what you said, you were implying she might not be telling the exact truth.” And we’ve been good friends, Dad, and this is so uncomfortable, talking to me about your love life which I don’t want to know anything about. All of which Denise thought, but instead, she said, “Aloha is still my friend. This is awkward.”
“I don’t think she’d lie to me, she was just sort of evasive.”
Denise didn’t want to hurt her father with her suspicions. On the other hand, she was too Christian to condone the situation between Aloha and her father. Which led her to fear that the relationship between the two would continue, which wouldn’t be good for her father or her friend. Or Denise’s own Christian sense of rightness, not righteousness, she amended, but what was really right in the world in the ways things like this should work. She was glad you don’t have to diagram thoughts like sentences in English class.
Her father sat back and put his drink down on the end table. He was thinking. Usually he was so up, not introspective. But now he was brooding.
And that made Denise angry. Her father was a good man, one who’d raised two children himself with little help from his wife.
Now along comes a teenage floozy and turns his head big time.
Could he weather the storm?
Anger grew in Denise. Her father deserved better. He’d paid his dues. Fighting for the red, white, and blue in Vietnam. Raising his children despite his wife, her own mother. Forgive me, Lord, for what I might do.
“Somebody’s not doing you right,” Denise blurted.
“Oh?”
“Oh. You bet, Daddy. I’m beginning to get mad.”
He fixed her with his gaze again. “Don’t get involved in this one, little girl.”
“I’m no little girl. I’m a freshman in college.”
“Which gives you no right to interfere.”
“Who said I was gonna interfere, Daddy?”
“Your demeanor. Your history. This conversation. This is me, now. My personal collision avoidance system is blaring. Stay the hell out of my business.”
“You are my business. You’re my father. I’m all you have left. She is my business. She’s my friend.” Or she was. “Besides, you were the one who was asking me the questions, I was simply answering and now you’re taking offense.”
“Drop it. I know you, Denise. You’ll attack what you perceive as a problem and gnaw it like a dog with a bone until you’ve chewed it to death.”
“I’m worried about you, Daddy.”
“Forget it.”
“I won’t. By gosh, the Bible says honor your parents. I do