My Fair Gentleman. Jan Freed
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doorknob rattled. “C’mon Allie, it’s only for a month. It’ll be fun.”
Fun. Joe’s solution to everything from her earliest memory, from the time she’d actually believed in magic. She glared at the door. “You go on, then. I’ll stay here with Norman.”
“You can’t, honey. Norman needs time alone since Doris kicked him out. Besides, I’d miss you too much. You’re my best pal, remember?” His deep voice was sentimental, wheedling.
She closed her eyes against the images crowding her mind. Making ice-cream sundaes for dinner on Gram’s bingo night, playing hooky from school to share popcorn at a movie—saving a place at her team awards banquet for a father who never showed up.
“Allie, please open the door.”
The ache in her chest moved higher, swelling her throat. Her stomach churned worse than before a big game. She wanted to fling the door open and throw herself into Joe’s strong arms. She wanted to fling the door open and scream the bitter words clogging her windpipe.
“Allie?”
She wanted to be a little kid again, too dumb to know anything about anything.
The silence stretched. Joe sighed, then walked away.
Released, Allie dove for the top of her bed and buried her face in a pillow. The tears she’d been holding back burst free. Why had Gram married that snowbird and moved to Minnesota? Didn’t she know her granddaughter needed her? Depended on her, if not for love and approval, at least for adult common sense?
Now Joe wanted to pack up and move to some place Allie’d never heard of, away from her friends, away from Tommy Burton in apartment 34C. And for what? Some stupid plan some stupid lady’d made that might help Joe get some stupid job. He wasn’t a Houston Astros player anymore, he’d told her, and she would bet her MVP trophy Gram didn’t know. If she did, she never would’ve left two days ago. Allie clenched her soaked pillowcase and gave in to a fresh surge of tears. Why couldn’t things stay the same?
Stretching out her arm, she groped blindly, connected with a soft shape and dragged it close. The stuffed monkey was the closest she’d come to having a pet. Joe had won it for her last year at her softball team’s annual carnival.
Yesterday, when she’d practiced face painting on his arm, he’d promised to win her another animal at this year’s fund-raiser. It was one promise she believed. After all, hadn’t he wiped out the tower of bottles on his first throw last year? Her friends had said later what a cool father he was. And they were half-right. He was strong and cute and a super athlete and way cool about blowing off rules and making people laugh.
But he was no father. At least, not like her friends had.
Flipping onto her back, Allie sniffed hard and gritted her teeth. She hated crying. Only wusses cried. But lately she was out of control. A real loser.
Like when Tommy’d smiled at her by the pool twenty-six hours and forty minutes ago, and she’d giggled like a demented hyena. If he hadn’t already thought she wasn’t worth his super-fine smile, he sure did now. Sarah Sokol had whispered something to him behind her hand, and they’d both laughed. Allie wanted to die just thinking about it.
Lifting the hem of her T-shirt, she scrubbed her face and frowned at the Boyz II Men poster on her wall. Joe’d said his teacher lady friend was real classy. That she’d show him how to act like he’d grown up in a mansion, instead of a run-down shack behind Big Joe’s filling station. Anyone who could teach a guy all that fancy stuff probably knew a lot about girl stuff, too.
Allie lay quietly, feeling more like herself by the minute. She would quit being a baby and face facts. Joe was Joe. She was old enough to take care of herself—and him, too. He needed her.
Swinging her legs to the stained beige carpet, she walked to the door and stood finger-combing her snarled hair, instead of brushing it. Gram would’ve thrown a hissy fit, but Joe wouldn’t notice. Pulling her door open, she moved down the hall and stopped short of the den entrance.
Just like every morning, Joe sat reading the sports page in his old recliner, his bare feet sticking out well past the footrest. He’d dragged his favorite cutoffs and tank top out of the dirty clothes hamper. Again. She’d have to sneak them into the wash before the neighbors complained.
From the looks of the teddy bears on his arm, he hadn’t showered after getting home last night. A bowl of soggy cereal sat on one chair arm. The other supported his tightly clutched beer. He looked scruffy, tired and…sad.
She’d hurt him, Allie realized with a start. Both of him. The playmate she adored and the man who’d disappointed her so many times over the years. Her wonderful impossible dad.
He glanced up and noticed her in the doorway. “Hi there.”
“Hi.”
“Feeling a little better?”
She nodded, hating this awkward politeness.
“Good.” His gaze sharpened. “Then who was named most valuable player for the 1974 World Series? There’s a hamburger in it for the winner.”
It was a game they’d played for years, familiar and safe. She crossed her arms and waited for him to up the ante.
He sighed. “Okay, with fries.”
“Finley with the Oakland A’s. Piece’a cake.”
“I’ll get you one of these days,” he promised, ruining the threat by grinning proudly.
“In your dreams. Can I have a milk shake, too?”
“Not for that no-brainer. Now go do something with that rat’s nest on your head while I get my shoes.” He pushed down on the footrest and sat straight.
Allie slowly touched her head. He’d noticed her hair? “Joe?”
He finished a huge yawn and rolled his shoulders. “Hmm?”
“I’m sorry I slammed the door in your face.”
His eyes met hers, all trace of grogginess gone. “That’s okay. I know you miss Gram, and you’re kind of scared about the two of us getting along without her. I know I haven’t always been there for you. But now I won’t be on the road half the year. Things’ll be different.”
He’d known how she felt? Staring into his anxious eyes, she couldn’t breathe for the love filling her heart.
“We can do this, pal,” he said with forced heartiness. “Together.”
This time Allie didn’t hesitate. Running forward, she threw herself into Joe’s strong arms and held on tight. After a long moment she lifted her head and smiled.
“Course we can, Joe. It’ll be fun.”
CATHERINE STOOD behind father and daughter while they studied the “apartment” she’d promised Joe three nights ago. Heat radiated up from the driveway in brutal waves. How could they look so fresh in this Amazonian hell?
Allie’s cap of short dark hair reached just above Joe’s elbow. Wearing shorts and a ribbed knit shirt, she revealed the compact body of a young gymnast. Yet her budding curves promised future havoc for adolescent male hormones—and Joe’s peace of mind.
When had Joe’s wife died? Catherine wondered briefly. She knew only too well how rough the next few years could be for the girl without a mother’s guidance. Ignoring the odd catch in her heart, she focused on Joe.
He’d shaved recently, a definite improvement over the last time she’d seen him. His khaki slacks and hunter green shirt flattered his broad shoulders and lean hips. Or maybe it was the other way around. She had a feeling he’d look good wearing anything. Especially his bare skin. She glanced away. Then looked slowly back.
Something about his quietness made her nervous. Possibly the fists hanging by