Good Daughter (9781101619261)

by Porter, Jane

Meg shook her head. “Mom.”

  “Be practical,” Tommy Jr. added.

  “This is nonsense,” Dad said flatly, refusing to play this game. “There’s no cruise, and your mom knows it—”

  “Nonsense?” Mom interrupted, fighting to sit up but unable to do so. “How dare you, Thomas Brennan? I’ve looked forward to this trip for weeks. It’s what’s kept me going, knowing I’d be with all of you, enjoying my grandkids—”

  “They can come see you here,” Dad said, out of patience.

  “And skip the cruise?” She made an incredulous sound. “Absolutely not. The children are excited about the cruise. It’s their first cruise. I’m not going to take that away from them.”

  “Then let them go,” Uncle Jack said, frowning at his sister. “But Tom’s right, Lynn, you’re not going. You can’t travel like this. Tom would have to push you around the ship in a wheelchair—”

  “Which I don’t mind, and we’ve already discussed bringing Mom’s folding wheelchair with us.” Dad waved a hand. “But that was before your red count brought you to your knees. There’s no way you can fly now—”

  “I’ll have the oxygen canisters,” Mom said breathlessly, shifting awkwardly and wincing as the IV pulled on her arm. “People fly with oxygen all the time. And they have those people who can wheel you on board the plane—”

  “Mom!” Meg threw her hands up into the air. “Seriously! Can you even hear yourself? You’re sounding exactly like Gabi right now—”

  “I was thinking Bree,” Tommy Jr. said grimly, brow furrowed. “She’s never been too troubled by logic or reason.”

  Cass moved to Mom, untangling the IV tube and smoothing the needle and tape on the back of her thin wrist. “Mom, the rocking of the ship isn’t going to help your nausea,” she said calmly. “It would be better to cancel this trip and have everyone gather up here. If we call Sarah now, they can change their flights and rebook them for San Francisco—”

  “No.” Mom’s voice shook. “I’m not disappointing my grandchildren. They’re going on this goddamn cruise and so are all of you! And so help me, if one more of you argues with me—” She broke off, panting with exertion. “I’m your mother! And you will respect me.” Again she struggled to catch her breath. Tears glittered in her eyes. She bit her lip, horrified that she was losing control. “We are taking this cruise…and if you fight me…I am done with you. Will not…speak to you ever again.”

  Meg walked out of the room. Tommy Jr. soon followed. Cass glanced from Mom to Dad and back again. She leaned over Mom and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Okay, Mom,” she whispered, before stepping out in search of Tommy.

  Uncle Jack shook his head in disgust. But Aunt Linda approached the bed, patted Mom’s arm. “Stick to your guns, Lynn,” she said, then took Jack’s hand and tugged him out.

  Uncle Pat and Uncle Joe slipped out without saying anything, leaving Kit and Dad alone with Mom.

  “You’d really not speak to your children again?” Dad said gruffly, eyes watering.

  Mom had to concentrate on breathing for a moment. “That includes you,” she rasped.

  “You’d do that to me?” His deep voice cracked.

  “Take them on the cruise for me,” she said, looking small and flattened.

  Kit pictured a blow-up beach ball that had been deflated and her eyes stung.

  “Without you?” her father demanded.

  Mom nodded once.

  Dad swallowed hard, started to speak, then stopped himself. He walked out of the room, into the hall, and returned immediately. “I don’t want to go without you.”

  “But you will have to go on without me.” Mom’s eyes met his and held. She struggled to smile but didn’t quite succeed. “The family must survive without me—”

  “And we will,” he said hoarsely. “But you’re not gone yet. There’s plenty of time for cruises later—”

  “I’m not going to die while you’re gone, what fun would that be?” Mom said with a hint of laughter in her voice. “When I go, it’ll be in grand fashion, but that’s weeks, if not months, away.”

  “But this cruise was for you, Mom,” Kit said from the foot of the bed, where she’d been biting her tongue, trying to stay silent.

  Marilyn shook her head. “No, it was for you. All of you. To be together, as a family. To remember that there is so much strength and love in this family—” She paused, breathed, breathed some more. “And that when you’re gathered together, you have me with you, even if I’m not physically present.”

  “Stop sounding like Jesus, Mom,” Kit muttered, blinking hard. “It’s terribly aggravating.”

  Mom barked a laugh. And then she smiled at Kit. “That felt good.” Her voice was hoarse but she sounded happy. “Needed to laugh. Must do that more.”

  Kit exhaled slowly and managed a watery smile. “I’m going to say something, and I don’t want you to get mad, and threaten to never talk to me again because that would be really lousy.” She held up a finger to keep her mother from speaking. “I agree with you about the cruise. And I think everyone should go. That is, everyone but me.”

  “Kit!” Dad growled.

  “Of course you have to go,” Mom said.

  Kit shook her head. “Mom, the only way everyone can go is if someone stays home with you, and I want to stay home with you.”

  Mom started to protest, then stopped and frowned.

  “This is ridiculous,” Dad said. “I can’t go and leave you, Marilyn. You know I can’t.”

  Mom held his gaze for a long time. Her eyes had become very bright. “I never ask you for anything, Tom, because you love me so much you give me whatever I ask for. And I’ve never wanted to take advantage of that.” She needed a moment to catch her breath to continue, and a tear trembled on her lower lashes. “But I’m asking you now to please do this for me. Please take our children on this trip and enjoy them. Enjoy the family we made.”

  “I’ll be with Mom, Dad,” Kit said quietly. “She’ll be okay.”

  A spasm of emotion tightened his face and his eyes turned a brilliant watery blue. “I’ll miss you, Marilyn.”

  Mom looked at him steadily. “Take lots of pictures. I’ll want to see everything.”

  Kit didn’t get home until eleven, and it took her another hour to unwind so that she could sleep. But it wasn’t a restful sleep. She kept dreaming about Mom and Dad and the family, and it was so intense that when she woke to her alarm at six-thirty, she felt exhausted and teary.

  It was a relief to get to school and know that soon she’d be sucked into the hectic pace of Fridays. Kit didn’t know why Fridays were always a little more frenetic than other days, but they were, and this morning she welcomed the structure, activity, and routine.

  Fiona and Polly met up with her in the office while she was collecting mail from her teacher in-box.

  “All packed?” Fiona asked, juggling her tea and the handouts she’d just printed on the copier.

  “All waxed?” Polly added significantly.

  “Neither,” Kit answered, lifting a hand to wave at Shelley, who’d come through the office with a blue mesh bag filled with basketballs. “Not going after all.”

  Fiona’s eyes grew big. “Your mum?”

  “Can’t go,” Kit said. “I’m staying with her.”

  Polly looked confused. “What do you mean, you’re staying with her? What about the others? And your father?”

  “Mom wants them to go. She wants them to have fun.”

  “Can they?” Polly asked doubtfully. “I think they’d feel terribly guilty about leaving their sick mom behind.”

  “Thank you for not saying ‘dying,’” Kit said drily. “And I’m sure it won’t be easy for everyone to go knowing Mom can’t, but Mom’s determined to make sure we stay close and focused on the big picture—which is, in this case, the family—rather than obsess about her. And it makes sense to me. You know, the sum-of-the-whole-is-bigger-than-the-parts thing.”

  “The whole is greater tha
n the sum of its parts,” Fiona corrected. “But when it comes to a mum…?”

  “I know. But you can’t argue with her. She’s a Donahue.”

  The first warning bell rang and the three quickly headed off to their respective classrooms. Kit was soon immersed in lessons and it wasn’t until she was halfway through third period that it registered that Delilah Hartnel was missing. She knew from taking attendance that the girl wasn’t there but figured she was just tardy and would eventually show up. She didn’t.

  At lunch Kit checked in with Mrs. Dellinger to see if the school secretary had heard from Delilah’s mother. “Did she call in to say Delilah was sick?” Kit asked.

  “No,” Mrs. Dellinger said, checking her attendance records just to be sure she hadn’t missed anything. “Nothing.”

  Kit thanked her and went to the staff room to eat lunch but couldn’t stop thinking about Delilah. Why wasn’t she in school today? She needed to be in school. She’d just missed two and a half days last week. Was it a coincidence that she was absent today, the day after the tense meeting with Michael—no, not Michael, Howard—or was Delilah home because of yesterday?

  Kit didn’t like what her gut was telling her, and she couldn’t ignore her instinct either.

  Unable to finish her sandwich, Kit returned to her classroom, pulled the folder on Delilah from her purse, and called the home number listed on a form. No one answered, so she left a voice mail, saying that it was Kit Brennan, Delilah’s English teacher, and she was just checking in on Delilah since she was absent today. “Give me a call, if you would,” she added, giving them the school number and her personal extension.

  But leaving the message didn’t make her feel better and she scanned the emergency contact form, wanting Missy’s cell number. Delilah had said her mom had a cell, but no number for it had been provided on the form. Only the number for Howard’s. And Kit wasn’t going to call him.

  That left only Jude. Again.

  Kit didn’t want to call him. Didn’t want to involve him or depend on him or have anything to do with him. But at the same time he was their neighbor. Would it really be such a big deal for her to ask him to check on Delilah?

  Make sure Delilah was okay?

  That’s all Kit needed to know. Homework and lessons could always be made up, but if there was trouble at home…She exhaled slowly, nervously…

  Michael—correction, Howard…Howard, Howard, Howard—wasn’t a fan of Delilah. He’d made it clear, that night Kit had dinner with him at Millennium, that he didn’t like Dee, saying she was mouthy and obnoxious, and blaming his failed marriage on her. And Delilah clearly wasn’t comfortable with Howard. So what happened to the girl yesterday after the meeting?

  What had he said…or done, when they got home?

  Kit’s stomach cramped. She felt sweaty and queasy. Staring at the emergency contact form, she reluctantly called the only person who might be able to help her.

  Jude picked up on the fourth ring. “Yeah?” he answered, sounding bored.

  Kit’s insides did an uncomfortable flip. “Jude, this is Kit Brennan, Delilah’s—”

  “I know who you are, Kit Kat.”

  Her face felt hot. Her insides flipped the other way. He rattled her, he did. “Delilah didn’t come to school today.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I tried to call the Dempseys’ house number, but no one answered.”

  “Did you try the stepdaddy’s number?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I think you know why not.”

  He was silent a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Okay.”

  “How do you know him?”

  “What?”

  “You met him somewhere, before Delilah enrolled at Memorial, that’s why you call him Michael—”

  “He told me his name was Michael!”

  “Where did you meet him?”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “Did you have a relationship?”

  “Absolutely not!” Kit’s heart was pounding and she was glad she was sitting. “He’s Delilah’s stepfather.”

  “But you knew him before Delilah was your student, didn’t you?”

  “I knew him all of ten days before she enrolled at Memorial.”

  “Did you go out with him?”

  Her heart fell and her stomach followed. “I’m not going to discuss this. It’s not relevant.”

  “Did you sleep with him?”

  “Who’s the cop now?” she shouted into the phone, furious. She rarely lost her temper, and never screamed at people, but he was completely pushing her buttons. How dare he question her? How dare he assume the worst about her?

  “I’m just trying to understand the relationship,” he answered calmly.

  She swallowed hard, trying to calm herself, needing to settle down so she could think straight. “There’s no relationship and there’s nothing to understand. Delilah was absent today. I called her home number. No one answered. I don’t have a number for her mother, so I called you.”

  “But you could have called Howard. You’re old friends—”

  “We’re not old friends. We’re not even friends. I don’t trust him. That’s why I called you. But if you don’t want to help check on Delilah, that’s fine. I’ll head over to her house after school and look in on her myself.”

  “You’re not going to go by her house.”

  “I have dropped by dozens of students’ homes over the years.”

  “I don’t doubt you have. So let me rephrase that. I wouldn’t go by their house today.”

  “Why not?”

  “Howard wouldn’t like it.”

  “Phooey. We may not be friends, but I’m not afraid of Howard. And I’m not going to see him anyway. I’m going to see Delilah.”

  “No one will open the door.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I live next door, Kit.”

  She inhaled sharply, frustrated, and not at all certain she knew what to do. “I’m worried about Delilah, and maybe I’m worrying needlessly, but as her teacher, I am responsible for her, and if something isn’t right, I must help her.”

  He said nothing.

  Kit didn’t like it. “Does he hit her?” she blurted.

  “Who?”

  “Howard. Does he hit Delilah?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Thank God. Kit sagged with relief. “That’s good.”

  Jude was again silent and Kit pictured Delilah, and her pale, frightened face, and her relief faded. “I’m going to stop by after school,” she said decisively. “I have to. I just need to know she’s okay, otherwise I’ll be worrying about her all weekend.”

  “I tell you what, Kit Kat. I’ll go check on Delilah for you, and then I’ll call you as soon as I know something. Will that make you feel better?”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  Kit’s eyes suddenly burned. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Jude?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I’m a sucker for a pretty face?”

  “No, seriously.”

  “I like Delilah. She’s a sweet kid.” He hesitated. “And I like you.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re a good person. You remind me a lot of my mom.”

  Hanging up, Kit left her phone on her desk during her afternoon classes, and even carried it with her to the parking lot for Friday-afternoon yard duty and traffic patrol, but Jude didn’t call. And as the hours passed, she felt increasingly anxious, and she hated being anxious; it made her feel things she didn’t like feeling.

  Back in her classroom after traffic patrol, she tidied her desk, placing her attendance book and lesson plans in the middle, where next week’s substitute would find them easily. It felt strange leaving for a week and she glanced around her room, making sure she hadn’t forgotten
anything.

  Kit was just about to turn off the lights when she thought of Delilah again. So ridiculous to worry and wait. Why was she waiting? She was Delilah’s teacher, not Jude. Kit closed her door and headed for her car, having decided to swing by Delilah’s house on her way home.

  Jude was crouching next to his motorcycle in his driveway, running a wet, soapy sponge over the chrome carburetor, when he spotted a white Prius slowly approaching his house. Probably someone looking for an address. Nothing unusual in that. Except that Jude wasn’t most people and he trusted no one, particularly in this neighborhood.

  He shifted slightly, his leather work boots creaking, and stretched his arm out to run the sponge down the chrome pipe. The change of position also allowed him to watch the car out of the corner of his eye.

  The Prius, already creeping along, suddenly stopped in the middle of the street, right in front of Howard’s house. Jude listened to the car humming in the street. He turned his head an inch, glanced at the driver, spotted the red hair, familiar face. Swore.

  Kit Kat Brennan.

  What the hell was she doing here?

  Standing, he tossed the dripping sponge into the blue bucket and headed toward her, drying his wet hands on the back of his faded Levi’s.

  She stared at him through the closed window, chin up, jaw stubbornly set.

  He made a circling gesture with his finger, motioning for her to put the window down.

  She hesitated. He gave her a look.

  Reluctantly she put the window down a couple of inches.

  He motioned that he wanted it all the way down.

  Kit rolled her eyes, rolled it down. “Yes?” she said with exaggerated politeness as he bent down, his gaze now level with hers.

  “You don’t listen very well,” he said shortly.

  “You didn’t call me and I wasn’t going to wait anymore.” She leaned forward, peering past him. “Is that their house? The white one with the blue shutters to the left of yours?”

  “Yes.”

  “Looks fresh…well maintained. Lots of new rosebushes.”

  “Howard likes to give her roses after they fight.”

  “That’s…nice.”

  God, she was clueless. Jude didn’t know if he wanted to kiss her, shake her, or spank her. “The one word I would not use to describe Dempsey is nice. He’s a lot of things, Kit, but nice isn’t one of them.”