Second Time Around

by Nancy Moser

  “It’s okay. I want to do it.”

  “You baby him. He’s a big boy.”

  “He needs me.”

  Her mother shook her head. “Are you going to tell him about seeing me?”

  “No!” She hadn’t meant to be so adamant. “At least I don’t think so.”

  “You should, Nessa. It would be a big step.”

  “I don’t know…”

  Her mother sighed deeply. “There you go, choosing him again.”

  “I’m not choosing—”

  “Sure you are.” She stepped away from the door, giving Vanessa access. “I should have known you’d go running back to your old life. I despise the control he has over you, the way he uses guilt to manipulate you.”

  “He doesn’t manipulate me. But I made a commitment to help and I need to follow through.” Her father’s past words haunted her: “You’re weak in that department, Vanessa. You have a tendency to fall short, to bow out of the final goal.”

  Mother opened the door. “Whatever. Go ahead.”

  Although Vanessa didn’t feel up to arguing, there was no way she could leave. She closed the door. “What’s got into you? You take care of me last night, but this morning you’re all over me.”

  “I thought we were starting something here—you and me. I didn’t think you’d run back to the status quo so quickly. I thought at this point in your life you might choose me. Choose us.”

  “It’s not about choosing.”

  “Of course it is. Life’s about choosing. When we divorced, when the judge asked your opinion, you chose your father because he always gave in to you, bailed you out of every trouble you had, then made you feel guilty if you didn’t pay him back with undying servitude. You didn’t choose me because I’m independent and strong, and I’d make you work for your dreams. Life isn’t worth much without work, Nessa. A life without work makes dreams null and void.”

  “I’m not going home to get Daddy to bail me out of anything. I’m helping him with a dinner party.”

  Mother took a step away from the door. “You know what? I’ll share a life lesson with you. All in all, the divorce was a good thing. It forced me to find myself. That’s what I want you to do. Divorce yourself from your daddy’s influence and find the true Vanessa that he keeps under wraps. Don’t blindly accept who your father thinks you are—or who he wants you to be. He’s pulling the same trick on you that he did on me. He tried to change me into his image of a corporate wife. Since that didn’t work, he’s trying to change you into being the perfect corporate daughter.”

  “I like being hostess.”

  She made a face. “And I like going to the dentist.”

  Vanessa couldn’t think of anything else to say. Her mother put a hand on her arm. “Yardley Pruitt is not the father you should be following, Nessa. Don’t let him mold you to his image. There’s a heavenly Father who deserves that job, and with Him being molded is a privilege.”

  The last thing Vanessa wanted was a Jesus speech. She kissed her mother’s cheek. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Stand up to him, Nessa. Stand up for yourself.”

  Atlanta

  During the twenty-minute drive from her mother’s house to her father’s home in the Buckhead section of Atlanta, Vanessa tried to rehearse her excuses for not coming home the night before. Her thoughts couldn’t settle on one lie, much less a believable string of them.

  And lies were needed because her father would never accept the truth that she’d spent the evening with his ex-wife, her fiancé, and a black man with a to-die-for smile whom his daughter felt an attraction to that went beyond friend.

  But what about all his lies? Should she confront him? The idea of calling down Yardley Pruitt was not pleasant. She knew he’d flip anything she said until the conversation was about her faults, her sins.

  Sins. Maybe she was being too hard on him. Maybe he’d told the lies to protect her. Maybe he hadn’t strayed that far from what any loving father would do.

  She finally turned on the radio, dialed past “Philadelphia Freedom” and “Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover” and landed on “My Eyes Adored You.”

  “Though I never laid a hand on you…”

  Interesting how Lewis’s eyes came to mind.

  Vanessa turned off her car and headed up the front walk. Yardley Pruitt met her at the door, his baby blue leisure suit making her think of Easter eggs. He tapped his watch. “We have a lot to do.”

  She was more than willing to focus on his “to-do” list, hoping it would keep him from asking questions she couldn’t answer. She reached the threshold and kissed his cheek. “How many are coming for dinner?”

  He moved to the living room, toward a piece of paper on the desk. “Just one. The owner of a construction company who’s going to be the general contractor for the bank’s new building.”

  Vanessa couldn’t imagine her father hobnobbing with any construction guy. Especially not if he was hiring him. Daddy socialized with his peers—or better. Not with worker men. She chose her words carefully. “If you’ve already hired him, then why are we trying to impress him?”

  He slapped the list on his hand. “He’s not just any contractor, he’s one of the best. He’s been on many best-contractor lists and has won awards.”

  Whoop-de-doo.

  “Remember this, Vanessa. If you want someone to do a good job for you, then pull out all the stops to show him who you are and what you expect. Make them want to do your bidding. Make them want your respect.”

  It sounded reasonable.

  “Besides, if he does a good job on the bank, then I’d like to team up with him on a few other projects I have brewing.”

  Ah. She knew the truth would come out eventually. Daddy had a need and had found a way to fill it.

  The phone rang and he answered it. But the way he gave Vanessa a quick glance and then turned his back on her made her radar scream.

  “No. No. That’s not a good idea… I don’t care what you think.”

  His nasty tone. The attempt at secrecy. Suddenly Vanessa listened with new ears. She tapped him on the shoulder, and when he turned around, she took the phone away from him.

  “Vanessa? What are you—?”

  She put the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Nessa?”

  “Mother?”

  “Yes, it’s me. I needed to call, to let him know that we—”

  Daddy tried to regain control of the phone, but with a turn of her body, Vanessa managed to keep it. “Hold on.” She covered the receiver with a hand and felt a surge of energy. “Daddy, I want to take this call. If you’ll excuse me a minute?”

  She had never, ever seen her father’s jaw drop and wasn’t sure she liked seeing it now. Frankly, it made him look way too human. And when his hands clenched and his feet fidgeted, she realized he truly didn’t know what to do.

  She turned her attention back to the phone. “Yes, Mother, I’m here. What did you say?”

  “I wanted to apologize for giving you a hard time this morning;—not that anything I said wasn’t true, but I refuse to turn into a demanding parent. You have one of those and one is enough.”

  She had that right. Her father had discarded his shocked look and was glaring at her, arms crossed. “I appreciate that, Mother.”

  “And as for telling your father about us… sorry. I just couldn’t risk you not telling him. I’ve got you back in my life and I’m not going to let you go, and the only way for that to happen is to shove it out in the open. You’re too important to me, honey.”

  She turned her back so her father couldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “Me, too.”

  “As far as the other decisions in your life… you’re a big girl and you’ll have to make your own choices, but I beg you to keep your e
yes open. You know more truth now than you did the last time you were home. Don’t let your father pull a veil over your eyes. See things clearly. That’s all I ask.”

  Realizing the fact that someone truly trusted her decisions was a new experience.

  Daddy tapped his watch again.

  “I have to go, Mom.”

  “Mom. Not Mother. I like that.”

  Vanessa hadn’t consciously made the change. But she liked it, too.

  “One last thing. Will you be coming to church with us in the morning? I know Lewis would love to see you.”

  The feeling was mutual. But the logistics of being up late with the dinner party, then driving home early… “We’ll see.”

  “Your choice, dear girl.”

  Dear girl.

  Her father’s jaw had tightened to the point of stone. “I have to go. Thanks, Mom.”

  “I love you, Nessa.”

  “Me, too.”

  She hung up and faced her father. She could feel her heart in her chest.

  “How dare you! How long has this been going on?” he asked.

  She wished she could have said years. Let’s see how he likes secrets. But instead she said, “I ran into her the other day.” She swallowed. “We’ve had some nice talks.”

  Was that a flicker of fear she saw or was she only hoping? Then without warning, he covered his eyes with a hand. His shoulders slumped. “I can’t believe you’d betray me like this.”

  “I’m not be—”

  He stumbled to the couch, putting his head in his hands. “After all I’ve done for you. After all we are to each other.”

  She sat beside him, a hand on his back “None of that has changed, Daddy. I’m still here, aren’t I? Just because I talk to Mom now and then doesn’t mean anything has changed between us.” It was a lie.

  He turned and stared at her. “What’s gotten into you?”

  Two words popped out. “The truth.” Had she actually said that?

  The tears were replaced with a snicker, and he stood. “My, my. A few days in the presence of Dorian and you’re corrupted. Why am I not surprised?”

  The word corrupted pushed her button. Her mother was probably the most uncorrupt person she’d ever met. She pulled a needlepoint pillow into her lap. “Why did you tell me she left us?”

  “She did.”

  “Only because you kicked her out.”

  “I do not kick anyone.”

  “You forced her out. Because she was too much of a free spirit for your corporate-climbing agenda, because she wouldn’t let you stifle who she was. Because… because she wouldn’t wear that awful orange dress with the flower pin.”

  “What orange dress?”

  Vanessa wished she hadn’t mentioned it. “Forget the dress.”

  His smile was victorious. “No, no. Obviously the dress is the key to all your mother’s grievances against me.”

  “Daddy…”

  He began to pace in the space between them. “I think it’s important we deal with this dress issue. I have always been a wonderful provider, and during our last year together I was rising to an even greater position which would bring your mother more money, more orange dresses, and more jewelry. Yet she complained because I wanted her to be a part of my journey?”

  “She… you wanted her to change.”

  “Change back into the woman I married. Talk about betrayal… your mother betrayed what we had when she became a beatnik, a—”

  “Beatnik?”

  “Precursor to the hippies. Out of the blue she became my enemy, treating me as if I was a horrible person because I liked money, didn’t want to grow my hair long, and wouldn’t go to some sit-in for whales in Antarctica. She was ruining everything we had, so—”

  “You kicked her out.”

  “I gave her the option of changing and staying, or holding on to her flower-child lifestyle and leaving. It was her choice.”

  Vanessa bit the tip of the pillow. How could he make black white, and white black? She thought of another point. “She’s been trying to contact me for years. She called; she sent letters. I don’t know how you did it, but you’ve intercepted every one. Why? And why have you always told me she wanted nothing to do with me; she didn’t love me?”

  He sat beside her. “There, there. It was for your own good. And see? I was right. Contact with your mother has done nothing but stir you up. Where’s the good in that?” He pulled her under his arm. “You were a confused teenager. You didn’t need the complication of a divisive maternal influence in your life. You needed me and I needed you. The two of us are enough for each other, aren’t we?”

  At the same time she accepted his hug, she found that his words made her want to break free of all contact. It’s not that they weren’t the right words—they were exactly the right words. That was the problem. As usual, no matter what the subject, no matter what the argument, Yardley Pruitt was able to turn the situation around to suit himself, to make himself the victor or victim, whichever suited the moment.

  He pulled her head to his cheek. “Enough of this. Let’s let the past die and move into the present. Into the future. Besides, we really need to get going with the tasks of the day.” He sat back to look at her, still holding the list, smiling his best smile. “How about I let you use my Corvette for the errands?”

  That would be cool. He never let her use—

  She sat up. “No!”

  “You don’t want to use the Corvette?”

  She ran a hand across her face. “No, I mean yes, I’d love to use your car, but that’s not the point.”

  He stood. “You’re right. The point is that time is getting away from us, but if we both get going and work hard—”

  The thought became words. “What about the women?”

  He froze. “Excuse me?”

  She stood but didn’t move closer. “You were unfaithful to Mom. And you have girlfriends now. Girlfriends I know nothing about.”

  “That’s none of your business, Vanessa.”

  She realized he hadn’t denied it. Any of it. If her mother was right about this, maybe she was right about all of it—no matter what smooth patter her father handed out.

  She took a chance. “Why doesn’t your girlfriend handle the hostess duties? Why do you make me come home every weekend?”

  “Oh, that’s right,” he snickered. “You have better things to do at college. Like get pregnant and ruin both our lives.”

  She couldn’t move. Couldn’t talk. She’d been defeated by a master. She had no power at all.

  He came close and lifted her chin. “You made a huge mistake—I’ve even made a few myself—but the key is to do what you can to make the mistakes go away.”

  Make the baby go away.

  He kissed her forehead. “You can take care of that particular mistake on Monday. Today, we have other items on our list.”

  Her breath left her. An abortion lowered to the position of groceries and booze on a “to-do” list?

  He put his arm around her and led her toward the kitchen, talking all the way. She hadn’t the strength to break free of his control.

  But she wanted to. She really wanted to.

  And that was progress.

  Vanessa knew she wasn’t being a very good hostess. Not that the table wasn’t set to perfection. Not that she didn’t remove the plates from the left and serve from the right. Her lack of perfection came in regard to the conversation. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t concentrate on what her father and this contractor, this David Stancowsky, were saying.

  Actually, most of the time she wasn’t expected to. When they talked of her father’s bank building, she knew she was free to let her mind wander. But not too far. At any moment she might be asked a question, and if she was
n’t careful she would look as dumb as she often did in class when a teacher interrupted a daydream. It had happened once already when her father had asked her to serve more coffee. From the tight look on his face, she knew it wasn’t the first time he’d asked.

  When she finished pouring and offering Mr. Stancowsky the cream and sugar, he drew her into the conversation. “And how is college going, Miss Pruitt?”

  She glanced at her father, hoping he wouldn’t share her academic failings.

  No such luck.

  “Vanessa has trouble reaching her full potential.”

  She felt herself blush but was relieved when Mr. Stancowsky said, “A common problem, I’m afraid. Myself included.”

  He smiled at her. She smiled back, vowing to pay attention to every word this man said. Then, out of nowhere, she said, “Actually, I was thinking of quitting school.”

  Her father choked on his coffee.

  A surge of pleasure flowed through her and she knew what it was: power. So this is how her father felt when he dropped a bombshell, when he took over a conversation.

  His face was red. “No daughter of mine is going to quit school. If you need me to go to the dean, to your teachers, I’ll go. I’ll fix it like I’ve always fixed it, but you will not—I repeat—will not quit school. You can’t.”

  “I can.” And with those words she knew it was true. She had choices—in regard to all her life. Not just school.

  David patted the table between them. His voice was a calm ripple compared to her father’s roar. “A long time ago, I heard a woman say this, and for some reason it’s stuck with me: ‘Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.’”

  She was stunned. “That’s my mother’s favorite saying.”

  Her father harrumphed. “Baloney to that. Those who can should.”

  She let the two men discuss the semantics and let her mind apply the wisdom of it. The words had been an elixir to her confusion. The point was she could quit. She could have the baby. She could have a relationship with her mother. And even Lewis… Life was suddenly full of possibilities. The question was, should she take them?