Third Time's a Charm

by Virginia Smith

  She gulped in a breath of air to stop another sob. That’s one of the thoughts she’d been trying so hard to ignore all week. It was harder, because now, it was too late to confront Daddy with her questions. Too late to find out why he’d left her.

  “Listen,” she managed to choke out, “I’m going to sit in my car for a few minutes and get myself under control. You can go on upstairs. Thanks for this.” She held up the tissue, damp and covered with mascara smudges.

  Phil hesitated, but then straightened. “Okay. Take all the time you need. If anyone asks where you are, I’ll tell them you weren’t feeling well.”

  That was the understatement of the year. “Thanks.”

  He started to walk away, then stopped. “I’ll be praying for you, Tori.”

  If Ken or Allie or Joan had said that, it would have irritated her. But Phil wasn’t trying to force anything on her. He was just offering comfort the best way he knew how. Oddly enough, the thought of someone praying for her sent more tears flooding into her eyes. Her insides were in such turmoil, she could use all the prayers she could get. She nodded and opened her car door without answering.

  Alone in the silent interior of her car, Tori succumbed to a few minutes of crying. Not that her grief served any purpose other than making her feel sorry for herself. How ridiculous to cry over someone who didn’t give a flip about her for the last fifteen years. The time for crying over losing her father was long past. Anger served her better. She could control that far more easily than sorrow.

  And she had every right to be angry. She wadded up the dirty tissue and pulled a fresh one from the package Phil had pushed into her hand. When she stopped to think that Daddy hadn’t cared enough to drive ninety minutes to see them, hadn’t bothered to let them know where he was, she could feel her rage heating up. He’d apparently had a relationship with someone after leaving them. Patricia Ann Parker.

  Who was she, this woman listed on the Internet as one of Daddy’s relatives? Did she even know about his prior life? Tori blew her nose with force. Did Patricia Ann Parker know he’d deserted three daughters, let them grow up fatherless while he traipsed all over the country?

  What did Patricia Ann Parker know?

  Suddenly, Tori had to find out. Her hands moved quickly, before her brain could list the reasons she shouldn’t go to Cincinnati. She shoved the key into the ignition, started the engine, and shifted into Reverse. Phil would tell anyone in the office that she wasn’t feeling well. If Kate noticed her absence, let her assume Tori had gone home sick.

  She was finally going to get some answers.

  The neighborhood wasn’t a wealthy one. The houses were small, and a little run-down looking. A few cars parked along the street, one with a flat tire that apparently hadn’t been moved in months. Tori drove slowly, scanning the house numbers as she went. Thanks to a helpful convenience store clerk on the edge of the city, a printout from Mapquest lay beside her on the passenger seat.

  There. The numbers above the door matched the ones she’d jotted down. She pulled her car to the curb and looked at the house. Not big. Dingy white siding. A single window to the left of the front door, the curtains pulled shut. No garage, and no car in the driveway. The yard needed to be mowed.

  She shut off the engine, but didn’t move. What was she doing here? Maybe Patricia Ann Parker didn’t even live here anymore. And if she did, what would Tori say? “Excuse me, but do you know why my father ignored me for the last fourteen years of his life?”

  The clock on the radio read 3:30. There probably wasn’t anyone home anyway. Most people would be at work at this time of day.

  Tori put her purse down on the floor, out of sight, and got out of the car. She locked the door, took a deep breath for courage, and marched up the empty driveway. Grass grew in long cracks in the blacktop. At the top of three steps, a worn welcome mat rested on the small square of concrete that served as a front porch. Planting her feet squarely on the mat, she rapped on the door.

  Nobody answered. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the curtains in the front window move and waited for the door to open. Nothing. She knocked again, harder this time. She did not drive all this way just to be ignored at the front door. Finally, the door cracked open and an eye appeared. A child’s eye, partially hidden by a thick lock of dark hair.

  “Hello.” Tori pasted on a wide smile. “I’m looking for Patricia Ann Parker.”

  “She’s not here right now.” An adolescent voice.

  “She does live here, though?”

  The eye bobbed up and down as the girl nodded.

  Well, at least she hadn’t moved away. Tori was one step closer to getting answers to the questions that haunted her.

  “I need to talk to her about something,” Tori told the girl. “Can you tell me what time you expect her?”

  The door edged open a bit more. “She gets off work at four. You can come back then if you want.”

  Stillness stole over Tori as she caught sight of a high cheekbone. There was something familiar about the curve of that cheek, the shape of that eye. Her tongue felt thick as she forced it to form words. “Is Patricia Ann Parker your . . .” She couldn’t finish the question.

  “She’s my mom.”

  The door opened even further, and the child’s whole face appeared. An unseen fist socked Tori in the stomach. Breath whooshed into her lungs in a gasp.

  This girl looked just like Daddy.

  19

  “Are you sure you’re okay? You still look sorta sick.”

  Tori took another sip from the glass of water the girl had brought from inside. She sat on the edge of the top step, unable to tear her eyes away from the pretty brunette who was undoubtedly her sister.

  She managed a quick smile. “I’ll be fine. I just felt a little faint for a minute.”

  “Maybe you should put your head between your knees. My teacher last year was pregnant, and she had to do that all the time when she felt like she was gonna faint.” The girl examined Tori’s slim frame. “Are you pregnant?”

  Tori laughed. “No, I’m not.” She took another drink from the glass and set it on the edge of the porch. “My name is Tori. What’s yours?”

  “Chelsea.” She dropped down to sit cross-legged on the sidewalk, all skinny limbs and knees and elbows.

  “That’s a pretty name. And your last name is Parker?”

  Chelsea scowled. “No, my mom’s name is different, because she and Daddy weren’t married.” Not a hint of embarrassment. Just a statement of the fact, as though she’d explained it many times before. “I’m a Sanderson, like my dad.”

  Tori kept her smile in place with an effort. Daddy had acknowledged this girl as his daughter, had given her his name. Their name. Not that he could have denied fathering her, since she looked so much like him. Some of the pictures she’d showed Ryan hovered in her memory. Chelsea’s resemblance to Joan at ten or eleven years old was remarkable. How could Daddy have looked at her, watched her grow up, and not thought of the daughters he’d deserted?

  “Chelsea Sanderson.” The name tasted like bittersweet chocolate on Tori’s tongue. “Was your father’s name Tom?”

  Chelsea’s knees came up, and skinny arms encircled them. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

  “I met him once. A long time ago.” Pain twisted Tori’s heart.

  The girl’s shoulders slumped. “He died, you know. Last year.”

  Tori nodded. “I heard. I’m sorry.”

  “I miss him a lot.” She propped her chin on a knee.

  Tori closed her eyes and, for a second, let sorrow wash over her. Me too. “How did he die?”

  “He had a heart attack while he was driving.”

  A heart attack. He’d only been sixty. He should have had lots of years left. Years to watch this girl grow up. To make things right with his other daughters.

  Tori forced a smile for Chelsea. “My father died too. The last time I saw him, I was a little younger than you are now.”

  The oval
face tilted. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you remember him?” She hugged her legs tighter. “I mean, really remember him. ’Cause my friend Melissa says she can’t hardly remember her grandfather, and he only died two years ago.”

  “I—” Tori stopped. The truth was, she’d concentrated on not remembering Daddy for so long. “I have pictures of him. That helps.”

  “I have pictures, too.” Chelsea jumped to her feet. “Want to know how I make sure I’ll never forget him? I’ll show you. Wait here.”

  The girl leaped up all three stairs at once and disappeared into the house. Lead sat in Tori’s stomach as she waited. The last thing she wanted to do was look at a bunch of pictures of Daddy with his new daughter. But she couldn’t leave, not now. She drove up here to talk to Patricia, and she intended to stick it out until she’d done just that.

  Chelsea returned carrying a cordless telephone. She sat down on the step next to Tori and pushed a series of buttons.

  “Listen to this message.”

  Tori took the receiver and held it to her ear. When a familiar voice began speaking, it sliced like a hot knife straight through her soul.

  “Hey, where are my girls? I’m calling to let you know I’m on my way home, and I’m in the mood for pizza tonight. Let’s order one loaded with all the good stuff.” He chuckled, and the sound set Tori’s pulse to pounding. “Okay, we’ll get two. One with just cheese for my little punkin’ girl. Sound good? See you when I get home.”

  Painful tears pricked the backs of Tori’s eyes. With an effort, she controlled them as she handed the phone back to Chelsea. She’d forgotten the sound of his voice. But now that she’d heard it again, it resonated in her memory.

  She was in the bedroom she shared with Joan and Allie, Barbie dolls spread out around her. The front door slammed. Daddy’s voice echoed down the hallway. “I’m home! Where are my girls?”

  “That was the night before he . . .” Chelsea’s throat moved as she swallowed. “You know. I listen to it every night. It helps me have good dreams.”

  A car pulled into the driveway. Chelsea’s face brightened as she jumped to her feet. “There’s my mom.”

  Tori fought to regain a measure of composure as she stood. The woman stared at her as she climbed out of the car and came down the sidewalk. An attractive woman, tall and slim with curly dark hair. She wore a brown polyester dress that had the look of a waitress’s uniform. A plastic tag pinned on the left side proclaimed her name: Patti.

  Chelsea ran over to her. “Mom, this lady came to see you. Don’t worry, I didn’t let her inside.”

  “That’s good, hon.” Her expression held a note of suspicion as she examined Tori. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

  Tori paused for only a moment. There was no way to ease into the reason for her visit, and she didn’t really want to. She looked the woman in the eye, thrust out her hand, and said, “Hello. I’m Tori Sanderson.”

  Chelsea’s eyes grew round. “Sanderson? You didn’t tell me your whole name. Are you related to my dad?”

  Patti didn’t take her gaze from Tori as she snapped, “Chelsea, go in the house.”

  “But Mom, I—”

  “Now!”

  Chelsea obeyed, though she announced her frustration by stomping up the stairs and slamming the door. Another time, Tori would have thought that was funny. But at the moment, she couldn’t look away from the angry stare on the face of . . . what was this woman to her, anyway? Not her stepmother. Just her father’s girlfriend.

  Patti’s angry words took her by surprise. “How am I going to explain you to her?”

  Tori’s mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

  The woman made a savage gesture toward the house. “Chelsea doesn’t know about you. What am I supposed to say?”

  Well, I didn’t know about her either! But Patti seemed to know exactly who she was. Apparently Daddy had told her about his family.

  “You could try the truth.”

  Patti’s lips twisted into a grimace. “Why couldn’t you just stay away? We’re doing okay, finally. We don’t need you butting into our lives. We don’t want your interference.”

  “I want some answers about my father. I think I deserve that.” Tori folded her arms and stood her ground as Patti’s eyes narrowed into a glare.

  “Tom made his choice. That ought to be enough for you.”

  Her words fell like blows. She was right. Daddy had chosen. He left her and Joan and Allie behind while he made a life with this woman and her daughter. His daughter. The one he called my little punkin’ girl.

  “I—” She swallowed, and tried again. “I just want to know why.”

  Patti seemed to grow taller as her spine stiffened. “You’re too late. He’s gone. Now please, leave us alone. Don’t come back. We don’t want anything to do with you.”

  She brushed past Tori and followed her daughter into the house. Stunned, Tori turned to stare at the closed door. She caught sight of Chelsea’s face at the window for a moment, but then the girl was pulled abruptly backward and the curtain fell into place, shutting her away from view.

  With a slow step, Tori walked to her car, climbed in, and drove away.

  The ninety-minute drive back to Lexington seemed to pass from one breath to the next. Patti’s angry glare was seared in Tori’s mind; her words echoed. “Tom made his choice. That ought to be enough for you.” But it wasn’t nearly enough.

  “Why?”

  Her question punched through the silence in her car. It was directed upward, toward the gray, cloud-covered sky where she’d always considered heaven to be. Was Daddy there now? Was he looking down, watching her struggle to understand?

  “Why did you stay with her, and not me?”

  A sob choked off her voice on the last word. If Daddy was up there, he couldn’t answer. Or maybe he chose not to, as he’d chosen all along.

  Raindrops speckled her windshield, and she flipped on the wipers. The turnoff to her complex was up ahead, but Tori couldn’t make herself take it. She’d go crazy sitting alone in her empty apartment tonight. Better to be around people who loved her. She’d go home, to Danville.

  But where? Mom was at work at the hospital. Joan probably had plans with Ken. She would change her plans if she knew Tori needed her, but then the whole story would have to come out. Joan would be devastated when she found out not only that Daddy was dead, but that he’d chosen another family over them. And so would Allie. Tori’s pain was still too fresh, too raw. Seeing their grief would send her over the edge tonight. She couldn’t handle that. By tomorrow she’d have a grip on her own emotions, and she’d be able to stay strong as she delivered the devastating news to her sisters.

  But not tonight.

  “Good night, Gary. See you in the morning.”

  Ryan lifted a hand in farewell as he exited the store. He had just enough time to run home and grab a sandwich before his seven o’clock class. When the doors opened, he realized the rain predicted for this evening had begun. Hunching his shoulders, he dashed across the parking lot and slid into his car.

  The light was still on in the dentist’s office downstairs when Ryan pulled into the lot in front of his apartment. A couple of cars were parked outside, a BMW and a white Toyota. Dr. Patrick must have a late appointment tonight. He parked at the corner of the building, near the stairs. That’s when he noticed someone sitting in the driver’s seat of the Toyota. Someone who looked like . . .

  Ryan shut off his car’s engine. It was Tori. But what was she doing here? And why was she leaning over the steering wheel like she was asleep?

  He got out of his car. When he slammed the door, she raised her head. Rain ran in rivulets down her window, turning her face into a blur. He splashed across the parking lot and arrived at her car at the same time she opened the door. She climbed out and faced him. That’s when he saw that she hadn’t been sleeping. She’d been crying. The skin around her eyes was red and puffy.

&n
bsp; She looked up at him, and her face crumpled. Deep inside his rib cage, Ryan’s heart gave a lurch. He opened his arms and, without a word, she stepped into them. Large drops of rain fell from the sky, wetting them both to the skin, while Tori cried in his embrace. He hugged her tight, trying to shield her from the downpour. Feeling more helpless than he ever had in his life, he realized he couldn’t shield her from whatever had caused such deep, wracking sobs.

  Lord, whatever it is, can’t you help her?

  “Come on.” He steered her toward the stairs. “Let’s get you out of this rain.”

  Wordlessly, she allowed him to guide her up the stairs, and stood with her sobs coming in gulps as he unlocked the door. Inside, he flipped on the light and ran into the bathroom for a towel. Thank goodness he had a clean one.

  When he returned to the tiny front room, she stood exactly where he’d left her, right inside the door. He handed her the towel and then gently guided her to the worn couch, the only place to sit. From the way she avoided his eyes and mumbled her thanks, he sensed she needed a minute to regain her composure. He left her blotting her sopping wet clothes and crossed to the kitchen area, neatly tucked into a corner of the room, to put on a pot of coffee. By the time he returned, she seemed more herself.

  No, not herself. Not the confident, flirty Tori he knew. Her head drooped, and her lips trembled as though more sobs were only moments away. He sat beside her, and she gave him a quick, embarrassed smile.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

  “It’s alright. That’s what friends are for.”

  She ran her fingers through her disheveled hair in a self-conscious gesture. “I must look awful.”

  He’d seen her look better. Besides the puffy eyes, her nostrils were red and her skin splotchy. But a vulnerability he’d never seen before lurked in the depths of her blue eyes. It drew him irresistibly, made him want to protect her.

  “You could never be anything but beautiful,” he told her, and he meant every word.

  The look she shot him was grateful. “I shouldn’t stay. I know you have class.”