The Sweetheart Rules

by Shirley Jump

  “The sea is our road map, buddy. We’ll go everywhere and anywhere.”

  “You’re not leaving with him,” Mom said.

  “Yes, I am, babe.” Dad leaned toward Mom, his eyes bright and his voice low. “Every year, I get summer visitation, and this is summer. He’ll be visiting me.”

  Summer visitation. Every year? His father had had that all along? Jackson looked over at Dad, wanting to ask him why he’d never taken him for the summer before. His Dad was always super busy with the band, but surely he could have taken Jackson along, at least part of the time. Didn’t matter, Jackson told himself. His dad was here now, and they were going to have the best summer ever.

  Mom shook her head. “You can’t just do this, Sean. He has summer school and—”

  Dad waved it off. “Stop right there. He’s a kid, Di. Let him live a little. Summer school. Shit. That’s for flunkies, and Jackson isn’t a flunkie, are you, buddy?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then let’s go. We got miles to go, and oceans to see. I’ll be back on tour in July, so we’ll have to see about getting you a bunk on the tour bus.”

  “You mean it? I’d get to tour with you?” Jackson’s heart leapt. All his life, he’d wanted to go on the road with his dad. Every time he’d asked, his father had said no, that he was too busy, they were going too far, there wasn’t enough room. But now, he was going to make room, and they were going to tour together. Heck, maybe Jackson could help the roadies with setting up the stage and stuff. His dad would get him enrolled with one of those tutors, so Jackson never had to go back to real school again. He and his dad could just tour year-round. A different city every day.

  “Sean, you are not—”

  “I am, too, Diamond Di,” he said, using his nickname for her. When Jackson was little, that used to calm his mother down and make her smile, but this time it only seemed to make her angrier. “Check the papers I filed with the court. You want to fight me on this, call your lawyer.” Then he clapped Jackson on the shoulder and gave him a grin. “Let’s go, slugger. Miles to go and oceans to see.”

  “Wait, Dad. What about Mary?” He gestured toward his dog, who’d been sitting by the door, tail wagging, ready to go wherever Jackson went.

  “Uh… we don’t really have room for a dog, slugger. Maybe your mom could watch him, couldn’t you, Di?”

  “It’s a her, Dad. I raised her myself from a puppy. I don’t think Mary’s really going to be happy if I leave her behind.” And neither would Jackson. Heck, Mary was like his best friend, and seeing her sitting by the door like that, happy, expectant, made something clench in Jackson’s heart. But he was going with his dad, and wasn’t that what he wanted most of all?

  “She’ll be okay here, with your mom. Heck, she’s a dog doctor. Knows just what to do. We’re going to be fleet on our feet, buddy. Can’t have a dog tying us down. Now let’s go. I want to hit the road.”

  Jackson dropped down and drew Mary to his chest. “Be good, girl. I’ll be back, I promise.” Then he swallowed the lump in his throat, swiped at his eyes and headed out the door with his dad. Mom started to cry, and Jackson’s steps stuttered. It took everything he had to keep going forward to Dad’s car, to the long-awaited adventure they were going on, rather than turn around and hug his mom and tell her it would all be okay. At the car, Jackson paused and looked back over his shoulder.

  Mom stood in the door with Mary sitting beside her, the two of them silhouetted by the warm lights behind her. Lights that seemed to beckon Jackson to return. Mom raised her hand to wave, and he raised his, too. He held the wave for a long moment, then he got in the car and told himself he was going to be happier now.

  Twenty-five

  Mike didn’t go back to sleep after he got home. He thanked Luke and Olivia for staying with the girls, then, after the couple was gone, Mike sat on the sofa and flipped through the channels without really seeing anything on the screen.

  He thought about his daughters, and how he’d been an absent father for far too long. He thought about Jackson, who had an absent father, too, but also had a hell of a mother who loved him with a fierceness that Mike envied. If Jackson could fall off the rails with Diana as his mom, what did that spell for the future for Jenny and Ellie?

  Diana was right. He, of all people, had the least right to interfere in her parenting. He was glad they’d found the boy and that he was okay, but Mike realized he should have said something sooner to Diana, rather than keeping it between him and Jackson. Learning on the job sucked—and made him make mistakes he wished he could erase. In the last hour, he’d picked up the phone a hundred times to call Diana and make sure she was doing okay, then stopped himself.

  He ran a hand through his hair and wished he could get a do-over. A way to make things right with Diana, with Jackson, with Ellie and Jenny. He had ten days left with the girls, then, barring a major miracle, they were going to go back to Jasmine’s, as distant from him as when he’d picked them up almost three weeks ago.

  A soft patter on the floor, then Jenny came into the room, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “You’re home.”

  “Yup. Sorry. I didn’t think you knew I left.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t sleep so much. How come you had Luke and Olivia come over?”

  Now he felt bad. If he’d known Jenny was awake, he would have talked to her before he left. But when he’d gone in the room she was sharing with Ellie, Jenny had done a darned good impression of a sleeping kid. “Because you guys shouldn’t be left home alone. You’re only eight, Jen. Too young to have to be in charge.”

  She shrugged again. “I can take care of me and El, dude.”

  The word rankled. Ellie called him Daddy every other second, but even after all these weeks together, Jenny still saw him as the babysitter dude.

  No matter how hard he tried, he hadn’t been able to build a bridge between himself and his oldest child. They were stuck in the same cold war as they had been when he’d first arrived in Georgia—one where she tolerated his presence while he tried to extend an olive branch.

  Maybe that was how it was going to be from now on. Maybe he needed to accept that, even if it caused a sharp ache in his chest.

  “How come you don’t sleep much, Jenny?” he asked.

  She shifted her weight. “I dunno. I just don’t.”

  “Ellie and you really should be on a regular sleep schedule. Sleep’s important when you’re growing.”

  “I know that.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s not so easy to sleep at Jasmine’s. Besides, Ellie hogs the bed.”

  At the mention of her name, Ellie came into the living room, too, sleep-rumpled and barefoot. She had on a teddy bear nightgown and was carrying the battered bear he’d bought three weeks ago. “I can’t sleep. I need a story.”

  Jenny pivoted toward the hall, taking Ellie’s hand as she did. “Come on, Elephant. We’ll read Ten in the Bed again.”

  “I don’t wanna hear that one. I wanna new story.”

  “You like that book. It always makes you laugh. Or we could read Pooh again.”

  Ellie shook her head. “I wanna a new story.”

  Jenny sighed, sounding twenty years older than a third-grader. “We’ll find something, El. Come on, you gotta get your sleep. It helps you grow, and you know you want to grow tall, right? And we have to make sure you brush your teeth before bed. You don’t want to get cavities. Okay?” Jenny looked so small and young standing in the hall, in a pale yellow nightgown with her feet bare and her hair jumbled from her pillow. But she held herself like a grown-up, with that air of reassuring authority in her voice, mixed with the tense shoulders and resigned exhaustion that came with parenting.

  Mike realized then that Jenny was used to this role. That she’d played Mommy far too often for little Ellie, and was repeating the same words he’d said a moment ago. When Jenny mentioned that Jasmine left them alone, Mike hadn’t thought about the day-to-day details that were dumped on his eight-year-old’s shoulders. The bedtime
stories, the face washing, the tucking into bed.

  He’d made it worse, by leaving Jenny to do those jobs, all under the excuse that he didn’t know how or that Jenny had a better rapport with Ellie. Instead of admitting he was afraid he’d fail at the whole thing. And let his daughters down again.

  Instead, he was letting Jenny down by relegating her to the role of mother—when she deserved and needed to be a kid herself.

  The thought made Mike want to wrap his daughters in Bubble Wrap until they were eighteen and protect them from the dangerous world waiting to draw them in and steal their innocence. Build a wall that would gird them against hurts and disappointments, broken hearts and ruined promises.

  “Girls, wait,” he said, getting to his feet. “How about I tell you a bedtime story, El? One that will make you fall asleep for sure.” If only because he sucked at telling stories and she nodded off out of boredom.

  “You will, Daddy?” Ellie danced in place.

  “Of course I will. It’s my job.” He came up behind the girls and put a hand on Jenny’s shoulder. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s pile onto Ellie’s bed and read a book.”

  Jenny looked dubious, but just shrugged a shoulder and headed down to the room she shared with Ellie. Ellie squealed with delight and scrambled under her covers, displacing a half-dozen stuffed animals. “Come on, Daddy.” She patted the space beside her. “You gotta sit here. And Jenny can sit ova there. And Teddy can sit here.” She plopped the bear on her chest.

  Mike slid his tall frame into Ellie’s twin bed. Jenny sat on her bed, a second twin he’d picked up the day they moved in here. She had her arms crossed over her chest, clearly uncertain about his bedtime-storytelling abilities. Mike patted the space between him and Ellie. “There’s still some room, Jenny.”

  “I’m okay over here.” She propped her heels on the frame and hugged her knees.

  “Daddy, whatcha going to read?” Ellie asked, wriggling into place beside him. “Jenny only has two books. We read them a hun-red times. I don’t wanna read them anymore. They’re boooorrrring.”

  He glanced at Jenny. “You girls only have two books?”

  Jenny shrugged. “The library is free, Jasmine says.”

  Mike thought of all the books he had read as a kid, the ones that he had escaped into after his father died, and on those dark and scary nights when his stepfather was drinking and his mother was crying. Stories of adventures and pirates, faraway lands and damsels in distress. He still kept a book or two in his locker, something to while away the downtime on the base. Now it was more likely to be a crime thriller or a story of espionage, but still the same themes of faraway lands and bigger-than-life heroes. “Tomorrow, we are going to the store and buying as many books as you two want. Okay?”

  “As many as we want?” Jenny asked, one brow arched with suspicion. “You mean it?”

  He nodded. “First thing tomorrow. I promise.”

  Jenny gave him a tentative smile, the smile of a kid who had learned not to trust in promises. “Okay.”

  Ellie danced Teddy on her belly. “We’re gonna get princess books and horsie books and kitty books and—”

  “All kinds of books,” Mike said, then turned back to his eldest. Though only a few feet separated them, it felt as if she was on another continent. “What kind of books do you like, Jelly Bean?”

  Jenny’s forehead wrinkled. “Who’s Jelly Bean?”

  “You are. When you were born you were so tiny, just a little over five pounds, and all red and wrinkly. I told your mom I thought you looked like a jelly bean because you practically fit in the palm of my hand.” He held out his hand to show her. “So I started calling you Jelly Bean.”

  “I don’t remember that.” Jenny gave him a doubtful look. “Jasmine never called me that, either.”

  “What about me, Daddy? Was I a jelly bean, too?” Ellie pounced on his chest, and he let out an oomph.

  “You weren’t a jelly bean at all,” he said, giving her nose a tap. “At least by the time I saw you. You were three months old then.”

  Three months old. What had kept him from the birth of his second child? What mission could possibly have been more important? He couldn’t remember now, and that made him angry at himself for finding anything else in the entire world more important than these two girls. He’d probably end up buying stock in American Airlines, but somehow, he was going to be back for their school plays and high school graduations and everything else that mattered in the years that lay ahead.

  “That’s why we call you Elephant,” Jenny said, climbing off her bed and coming to stand beside Ellie. “Cuz you were a big baby.”

  Ellie pouted. “I was not. I was cute and wittle. Mommy said so.”

  “And ornery, don’t forget that.” Jenny grinned.

  Ellie stuck her tongue out at Jenny, then turned to Mike. “What’s ornery?”

  “It’s what they call determined kids.” He gave her a grin. “And that describes you to a T, Ellie May.”

  She cuddled closer to her father and rested her head on his shoulder, and something melted in Mike’s chest. This was what mattered in life. He glanced down at her dark brown head and thought, no, this was the only thing that mattered.

  “Tell me a story, Daddy. Tell me one that makes me sleepy.”

  He didn’t want to tell Ellie that he didn’t know any stories, or if he did, they were a vague memory, years and years in the past. When he’d been a little boy, his mother had come in every night to read to him. Stories of dragons and knights, magical kingdoms and faraway lands. Then his father had died, and his mother had stayed in her room, and the stories had stopped. He’d learned to read then, and spent his nights reading chapter after chapter of the same kind of stories, with dragons and nights and adventures. But when he tried to recall a single one of those books right now, his mind went blank.

  “I’m not very good at stories,” he said, reaching for the Pooh book on Ellie’s nightstand. “Why don’t we—”

  “You are too good at stories, Daddy,” Ellie said. “You told us about that baby bear and that momma bear who was so scary and so big and you saved him from the peanut butter. That was a good story, Daddy.”

  He chuckled. “Okay, let me think for a second.” He racked his brain for another story like the baby bear one. Nothing. He had plenty of rescue stories to share, but he suspected they wouldn’t make very good tales for a little girl to fall asleep to. Plus, he had the tendency to slip into Coast Guard mode when he talked about anything that happened up in Kodiak. Winds south-southeast at ninety knots, seas at forty-five feet, visibility less than a hundred yards. Vessel taking on water—

  Yeah, that was one way to make Ellie fall asleep, all right. And never ask him to tuck her into bed again.

  “Uh, I don’t know where to begin,” he said. “You sure you don’t want to hear Pooh?”

  Ellie shook her head. She clutched Teddy to her chest and stared at him. Expectant.

  The clock on the nightstand ticked off a few seconds. The wind kicked up outside, and rain started to patter on the roof, one of those fast-moving summer storms that would pass as quickly as it began. Ellie plopped her thumb in her mouth and waited.

  “Uh…” Mike would have given a thousand dollars for one of those books he’d read as a kid right now.

  “She likes stories about pirates,” Jenny said. “I think she saw Pirates of the Caribbean too many times.”

  Jenny had yet to retreat to her side of the room, and Mike took that as a good sign. One that meant maybe his daughter was as hesitant to bond as he was, and just waiting for something to tether them together.

  All you can do is find something in common between you and build on that.

  Diana’s words came back to him. Could it be that simple? Something as easy as a bedtime story? “What about you?” he asked Jenny. “You never told me what kind of stories you like.”

  Jenny toed at the tiled floor and shrugged. “I dunno.”

  “Oh, come on, Jelly Bean.
You have to have a favorite kind of story.”

  The nickname coaxed a small smile onto her face. “I like stuff with aliens, I guess.”

  That’s right. His daughter was a Star Trek fan, too. “Hmm… pirates and aliens.” He put a finger to his lips, feigning deep thought. “I’m not sure I know a story like that. Oh, wait… I might know one. Just one.”

  Ellie bounced up and down on his chest again. He knew who to call if he ever needed CPR, that was for sure. “Tell it, Daddy! Tell it!”

  He didn’t actually know any pirate/alien stories. But if bonding with his daughters meant coming up with the next great American novel, by God, Mike Stark, the control freak with a schedule as tight as his shoelaces, was about to get inventive. He drew in a deep breath and prayed for instant creativity.

  “Once upon a time, there was this planet very, very far away,” he began. “It was so far, you couldn’t see it unless you were looking through a super big telescope. It was just a little planet, with little aliens on it. But they loved living there. Then one day…” He paused, and got… nothing.

  The seconds ticked by. The storm lashed the house. Ellie’s smile turned into a frown. “Then what, Daddy?” “Then… uh…” He swallowed hard. The rain kept falling, the clock kept ticking seconds. Ellie slumped onto the bed and held her bear.

  “Then one day,” Jenny whispered, “the princess was captured.”

  “Thanks, Jenny.” He smiled at her, and she looked away, but not before he saw a ghost of a smile on her face. “The princess was captured. The king and queen of the planet were so upset, and so worried about their princess.”

  “What was her name?” Ellie asked.

  “Princess Leia.” Okay, so the whole story wasn’t of his own invention. But he was new at this, so he cut himself a break. “There was only one person who could rescue her. A pirate named… uh, Blackbeard.”