The Girl of Sand & Fog

by Ward, Susan

  I pull back and look up at him. Alan is my father. I need to forgive both him and myself for all our sakes. I love my dad. It’s time to let go of the past. If I don’t, things will never be completely right with my family or with Bobby ever again.

  “Everything is going to be OK, Kaley,” he says reassuringly.

  I nod, brushing at my dripping nose with the back of my hand. “I’m glad you finally made up with Mom and asked her to come here. You’re doing all right as a dad—that talk was really good—but there are times a girl just needs her mother. And Mom is a great mom.”

  My dad stares at me, unsure how to react, but Chrissie is laughing so hard it looks like she can hardly breathe. She drops a kiss on my head and then one on my dad’s cheek.

  “That, Alan, is what I wish we had on film.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Toronto, Canada, three months later

  I sit on a stadium chair, listening to my dad doing a sound check on stage and waiting for Graham Carson to finish watching the final cut of my documentary about the tour.

  I can’t tell by his face if he thinks it’s good or bad. Shit, why did I show him this? I didn’t realize how much the film mattered to me until I hit play. I also didn’t realize how much it mattered to me what Graham would think of it.

  It was, after all, his suggestion. Filming our months on the road. His voice rises in my memory—the camera doesn’t lie. Not if you don’t let it. Film everything and you might learn something about your father.

  Fifty-nine minutes of torture and still counting. Fuck, throw me a bone here. Anything to tell me what you think. His eyes have been locked on the screen, his expression agonizingly neutral, and he hasn’t pulled out the earbuds once so I can ask him what he thinks of what he’s seen so far.

  I curl my legs up in front of me and turn until I’m facing him. Oh well. No need to panic over it now. It’s done. I don’t know what to do with the film now. Showing Alan seems too daunting a thing just yet. Graham’s right. The camera doesn’t lie if you don’t let it.

  He makes a low whistle, pulls out the earbuds and sits back in his chair. “Jesus Christ.”

  My eyes go wide. “Is that good or bad?”

  He studies me, shaking his head. “How old are you, kid?”

  “Eighteen. I was eighteen when you met me. Eighteen when we started this today and even though you took forever to watch my documentary”—I make a silly face—“I’m still eighteen.”

  “You have one hell of an eye, Kaley.” He clicks closed the laptop. “It’s an amazing film. Long and Hard: My Journey With my Father. When the title came up on screen, my heart stopped and I got chills. I couldn’t tear my eyes away until it was finished.”

  A beaming smile fills my face before I can stop it. “Really? You think it’s good?”

  His gaze softens, approving. “Best documentary I’ve ever seen about your dad, hands down, and I’ve seen them all. You captured the real Alan Manzone brilliantly—the still pictures cut into the film at times gave me goosebumps. You capture the man and that’s something every other cinematographer has failed to do completely.”

  My cheeks rapidly heat. “Thanks. It means a lot to me that you think it’s good.”

  Graham hands the computer back to me. “Have you shown it to your dad?”

  I shake my head.

  “Why not? He’d be so proud of you if he could see that. And I think really happy. Because that’s not just a film about him. It’s film about you, too, and how much you love your dad. It’s in every frame of film how much you love your father. Show it to him, Kaley. He deserves to see it. The past four months have been a journey for your dad, too. Let him know that he’s forgiven and you love him.”

  I fight not to get all teary-eyed and exhale the breath I’ve been holding. I shrug. “Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t know if we’re ready for that much honesty between us yet in our relationship.”

  Graham slips an arm around my neck, pulling me in to drop a kiss on my curls. “Alan is there. He always has been. But now you are, too. Show it to him, Kaley.”

  I nod, struggling to hold back my emotion because Graham reads me like a book and is right. He’s always right about everything. Overbearing at times with his opinions, but he’s a good friend with my best interests at heart.

  “You doing all right, Kaley?”

  I nod.

  He smiles. “You must be really excited about going home to California tomorrow.”

  To hide my expression from him, I focus on loading my junk into my tote. The mention of home is a definite mood kill. “Excited? Sort of. I don’t really have anything going on at home.”

  “You start USC in September. That definitely sounds like something exciting to me.”

  “Yep. I do have school.” I put the strap of my bag over my head. “Can you take me back to the hotel?”

  His brows shoot up. “You want to leave when your mom’s on stage? I think she’s going to sing with your dad. Don’t you want to listen?”

  I shift my gaze to find Chrissie next to Alan center stage. Jeez, they look so happy. Everyone is happy—my folks, my brothers and sisters—everyone except me.

  I debate grabbing my camera and snapping a picture of them. Oh well, the documentary is done, and this experience is done, too. The way my parents stare at each other reminds me of everything I lost and makes the hurt in my heart burn.

  All going back to California means is that tomorrow my next phase of life starts: Pacific Palisades without Bobby.

  The lump in my throat becomes strangling.

  Graham slips an arm around me.

  “It’s going to be all right, Kaley. If it was meant to be, it will be there when you get home. Four months won’t have changed a thing. And if Bobby is not there waiting for you, then he wasn’t worth your time in the first place.”

  Shit, how did he know what I was thinking?

  I settle back into my seat, slouch down and brace my feet on the back of the chair in front of me. “We broke up. It’s over. I don’t expect him to be waiting for me.”

  Graham shakes his head at me. “He’ll be there. I’m not worried about that.”

  I wish I could believe him, but I don’t.

  The arena fills with the sound of screaming guitars and my parents’ voices. Slowly we slouch into each other, my head tilted and resting against Graham’s, our eyes glued on the mesmerizing picture that is my mother when she’s with Alan.

  “God, your mom’s incredible,” Graham murmurs appreciatively. “Her voice is like a thousand volt jolt through the body. Forty-two years old and she’s still one of the sexiest women I’ve ever seen.”

  I grimace. “Gross. Don’t say things like that about my mother. Besides, you’re gay. She should do nothing for you.”

  Graham’s eyes start to twinkle. “Sexy is sexy, sweetheart. I don’t need to be straight to see how hot your mom is. Both of your parents are sexy as hell.”

  I shudder. “Ew. Anyway, my mom has no moves at all on stage. She’s got to be one of the least coordinated recording artists ever.”

  Graham’s head goes back as he laughs. “OK. I’ll give you that. She’s no Jennifer Lopez, but she doesn’t have to be. Even no moves works for Chrissie.”

  I watch her. Jeez, Dad is smiling and staring at her as if she’s the most amazing thing ever.

  My humor vanishes and my mood dips.

  A prick of sadness.

  “Everything works for Chrissie. Always. My mom has everything she wants, the way she wants, always.”

  Graham takes me in a one-arm, shoulder-wrapping hug and lays his cheek on my curls. “You do, too, Kaley. And you always will. You just don’t know it yet.”

  CHAPTER 31

  I stare out the window as the plane slowly descends. Southern California has never looked better to me than it does today from the air.

  I’m finally home. I can track down Bobby and try to fix things with him, though I’m sure the smart girl move would be not to chase him an
d I’m pretty sure my dad is going to object if I try to cut out first thing.

  My dad will tell me not to do it.

  He’s probably right.

  His guy advice is always right, probably because he’s such a guy, the alpha male of all alpha males.

  I’m going after Bobby anyway.

  I turn and stare at the closed door of the luxurious sleeping compartment on Alan’s Lear jet where my parents have hung out alone pretty much since wheels up in Toronto. It’s sweet, though awkward at times, how into each other they are. Who would have thought two people could still be so hot and heavy and in love at their age, especially after five kids?

  Yep, I’ve definitely witnessed a lot of too much visual moments since my mom flew to Australia to be with Dad. As embarrassing as they behave at times, watching them makes me a little sad and jealous. It’s like there is no one else in the world for them than each other, and though it’s confusing that their life together wasn’t always a smooth thing, it’s kind of a nice feeling to know I have two parents married and deeply in love with each other.

  My gaze shifts to my sister sound asleep in Lourdes’s arms. Khloe is so lucky that that is all she’s ever going to have in her life: both parents loving her and in love with each other. There’s not a doubt in my mind that Chrissie and Alan are going to be together forever this time.

  I shut down the twinge of resentment inside me because it’s wrong and I don’t want to resent Khloe any longer, and I’m really glad that she’s here. I’m not sure we would have ever become a family without her.

  And my mom is so happy. I’ve never seen her happier. Nope, it’s time to put the past and the unpleasant feelings away, and only enjoy where we all are today.

  One family, a little weird, totally not normal, but good.

  “We are thirty minutes from touching down in Los Angeles,” the pilot’s voice announces through the intercom. “It’s clear skies, 74 degrees in the south land, and we should be taxiing in around 1:30 p.m. California time.”

  My heart jumps; we’re landing soon.

  Maybe it’s safe to bother my parents.

  I unbuckle my seat belt—please let it be safe—and make my way toward the back of the plane.

  I knock.

  I wait.

  “You can come in, Kaley,” my dad says through the door.

  My brows hitch up.

  How did he know it was me?

  I slowly turn the knob, inch it open, peek in and then breathe a sigh of relief. Alan is sitting on the bed, fully clothed, reading a newspaper, and my mom is asleep beside him, curled in a tight ball, using his lap as her pillow.

  Not what I expected.

  So maritally normal.

  Crap, my dad even has half glasses resting low on his nose.

  I sink down on the bed, sitting on my knees facing them. “How did you know it was me?”

  My dad folds his paper and tosses it aside. “We’re nearly home. Who else would be interrupting us first thing? I’m reasonably certain none of the rest of the herd is itching to bolt. What do you want, Kaley?”

  I choke back a laugh at the term herd and fight off a grimace at the itching to bolt comment.

  I shrug.

  “I’m itching to bolt.”

  Since my dad can read me without effort, no point in beating around the bush.

  He shakes his head slowly, not in a gesture of no, you can’t go, but more in an I shouldn’t let you do this kind of way.

  Damn.

  “You said,” I remind heatedly before Alan can formulate a response, “that if I did exactly what you told me to the entire four months on the road, that I didn’t have to stay in lockdown until the end of my six months’ probation. I did everything you asked. You said that I could have my freedom back when we reached LA. You promised. I want to take off for a while after we land.”

  Alan rakes his messy black waves from his face as his eyes fix on me in an odd blend of amusement, exasperation and apprehension. “Do you want some advice?”

  Oh crap.

  “Not really, Pop.”

  My dad’s lips pucker as if he’s beating back laughter. “Well, I’m going to give it to you anyway. Run after a guy and he’ll run your life forever.”

  I let loose an aggravated shake of my head. “That’s not even close to true and definitely not Bobby. And I’m not running after anyone.”

  “Then there is no reason why you can’t come home with us, play it cool, and see what happens,” Alan counters quickly. “It’s what Chrissie wants. It’s what I want. To go home together as a family. It’s important to us, Kaley.”

  I exhale loudly in frustration. “I have to go home with you. How do you think I’m going to get my car? I just want to leave after I get there. It’s been four months. I just want to see him. Talk to him. Apologize. I’ve got a lot to apologize for. Come on, Pop. Can’t you be cool just once?”

  He studies me for a moment, unmoved. “Send it in a letter. No wait, an e-mail. But, please, don’t do it by posting a video online.”

  He starts to laugh and I give him a light shove in the leg. “Don’t make jokes. This is important.”

  “No, Alan’s right,” Chrissie pipes in quietly.

  I shift my gaze to find my mom’s eyes wide open and watching us.

  Damn, she’s been awake and listening.

  Now I’ve got to battle two of them.

  “Please. I promise I’ll be home by curfew. Even though I’ve never had one and I am over eighteen, you can set one if you let me go. Please…”

  “Don’t wheedle, Kaley. It’s beneath you,” he teases. We square off with our eyes, but it’s my dad who closes his first. “You can go if you want to. It was our agreement and I always keep my word, but you shouldn’t do it, sweetheart.”

  Even with the last jibe, I’m so happy I lunge into my dad and give him a fast hug and kiss.

  When I pull back, Alan rolls his eyes and groans. “Can you do one thing for me, so I’ll worry less about you taking off? Can you try to be less obvious than you just were with me when you see Bobby?”

  My cheeks burn but I nod.

  My dad makes an aggravated groan, but I spring from the bed before he can say another word, and go back to my seat, more than ready to reach LA now.

  The plane tilts, levels off and then I feel a series of bumps—landing gear touching earth—followed by the loud whoosh of slowing engines. We taxi and then stop. The steps are pulled down.

  The doors open, and a burst of sunshine floods the cabin with the warm August air. Everyone starts moving, gathering things. Lourdes ticks off a rapid stream of commands—half in English, half in Spanish—to my brothers and sisters.

  My parents emerge from their private cave, and my dad lifts Khloe from the housekeeper’s arms.

  I pause at the top step of the open cabin door. Nothing but private aviation personnel, ground crew, the waiting car and driver to take us home, and the two remaining members of my dad’s security team, Trey and Graham, who made the last leg of the journey home with us. There’s not even press here. Just normal airport activity and us.

  My mood dips.

  I didn’t really expect to see Bobby waiting for me.

  Why did I look to see if he was there?

  Stupid, Kaley. Bobby dumped you.

  Graham looks up at me, waves, and smiles. I trot down the steps and cross the tarmac toward him.

  “I’m glad my dad picked you to stay with us this flight.” I make a face. “Don’t take this the wrong way. It doesn’t mean I’m not happy to be done with having you as my bodyguard everywhere I go, but I’m going to miss you.”

  Graham laughs. “Believe it or not, I’m going to miss you, too, Kaley.”

  “Thank you for everything. You’ve been a really good friend to me.”

  He drops a kiss on top of my head. “Everything is going to be all right. I’m not worried about you anymore. Things look like they’re going well with you and your dad. Just—”

  He
pauses.

  I shouldn’t ask.

  Fuck, I’m asking.

  “Just what?” I demand pointedly. “Spit it out, Graham. No need to stop being overbearing now.”

  I can tell by the gleam in his eyes that I shouldn’t have stepped into this.

  He taps my nose. “Try listening to your dad. He won’t steer you wrong. He’s a good man and he loves you.”

  I groan. “And here we were, doing so well, and you had to get one last one in, didn’t you?”

  He grins. “I had to try.”

  I almost walk away, then I slip my arms around him and give him a firm hug.

  “Kaley…” he chides in a slow, exaggerated way.

  “Graham…”

  “I’ve already told you. Never do that. Drop your arms. Step back. We’re in the US. This time your fingers really are on my gun.”

  Crap.

  Grimacing, I do as ordered.

  His eyes sparkle at me.

  Oh fudge.

  “Very funny. Ha, ha, ha. You don’t carry a gun. You’re only for show. All looks. No heat.”

  He arches a brow. “Really? You think no heat?”

  “Then show me your gun,” I challenge.

  Full dimples this time. “I’m not showing you my gun, sweetie. I’ve already told you, you’re not my type.”

  I explode into laughter.

  “You are so obnoxious. I really am going to miss you.”

  Smiling, he juts his chin. “You’re not going to have time to miss me. I think you’re about to have something better going on real soon. Definitely hot. Damn. I don’t think he’s here for me.”

  I turn in the direction Graham is staring.

  My heart jumps.

  Parked just beyond the gate of the private aviation entrance, leaning back against the hood of his Aston Martin.

  Bobby.

  He did come.

  He’s here.

  Green eyes lock on me.

  “Kaley, let’s roll,” I hear my dad call out.

  I tear my gaze away from Bobby.

  Crap. The bags are loaded and everyone’s in the car except my dad. He’s standing in the space behind the open door, impatient and ready to go.