After a moment, Jon knocked.
“Come in.”
He opened the door and found Sierra where she seemed to spend most of her time, on her bed with her laptop. Separating her from the damn thing had become his personal challenge.
“Dinner’s ready,” he said, then nodded at the computer. “Homework?”
“Not really.” She didn’t move.
Jon waited.
“I’m not that hungry.”
She said the same thing every night. He knew she snacked when she got home from school and that she wasn’t a big eater, but he’d also seen her come joyously flying when Lucy called, “Dinner’s ready.”
“Come and eat anyway. Tell me about your day.”
After a moment long enough to qualify as insolent, Sierra shrugged and closed her laptop, sliding it onto the bed. He turned away, assuming she’d follow. She wasn’t quite willing to be deliberately disobedient, thank God, and he was trying not to push her into a corner where she felt she had to be.
All the former ease in their relationship had vanished. His fault, he acknowledged. She’d seen his brutality to Lucy, the one person in the world Sierra loved, and she didn’t understand his explanations.
Maybe, he thought, that’s because Lucy was right. He’d never been there when Sierra needed him. He hadn’t known, hadn’t wanted to know, that he had a daughter somewhere who did need him. In one way, he wasn’t at fault. In another way, he was terribly so.
Feeling weary, he got plates for the pizza he’d picked up on the way home. He should have made a salad, too, but had salved his conscience by buying the veggie special.
Lucy would have made a salad. Or provided a real, home-cooked meal to start with.
Now he was not only tired—he was swamped by a sense of inadequacy.
Sierra pulled out a chair and curled her lip at the sight of the pizza. “I don’t like mushrooms.”
“Pick them off.”
“Or pineapple.”
“Pick that off, too.”
She sighed heavily.
Irritation began to rise in him. How would Lucy handle this? Ignore the snotty attitude? Confront it directly? Jon had no idea.
On the job, he believed in directness. Okay, then, he thought.
He popped the top off a bottle of dark imported beer. “Sierra, you came looking for me. Not the other way around.”
She flashed a startled, wary look at him.
“We talked about your expectations. You claimed not to have many.”
“I didn’t. I liked living with Lucy.”
Jon nodded. “I understand that. And I understand why. But once you found me, there were only a couple of directions for us to go.”
She was listening, if not happily.
With a sense of unreality, he thought, I’m sitting here, at my own dining-room table, trying to talk sense to a sixteen-year-old girl with neon-bright blue hair and a goddamn barbell through her eyebrow. A girl who is my child, whether at this moment either of us likes it or not.
“One was that I said, ‘So?’”
She flinched.
“Alternatively, we could have the kind of relationship we probably both envisioned initially. I’d be like a divorced father. See you every couple of weeks. We’d do something fun, converse awkwardly. If you needed money, you’d ask me and I’d hand it over, relieved I could do something meaningful and easy.”
She bowed her head.
“Or I could become a real parent.” More silence.
“I’m betting your mother sometimes made decisions you didn’t like.”
Her shoulders jerked and she mumbled something.
“What was that?”
She lifted her head and her blazing eyes pierced his. “She was really my mom! Lucy was right. I’m the one who had to find you, and you didn’t even want me.” When he opened his mouth, she shook her head fiercely. “Don’t lie. You know you didn’t. But Lucy—” Sierra choked. “After Mom died and Lucy found out no one else wanted me, she didn’t even go home and think about it for the night. She wanted me.” Voice dying, she finished, “She loves me.”
Reeling from her pain and contempt, Jon would have said, I love you, too, but he knew damn well she wouldn’t believe him. What stunned him was realizing how true it was. He’d have given anything to go back and be the father she’d needed, when she needed him. But he couldn’t.
“I have to do what I think is right,” he said tiredly. “You have to understand, Sierra, I’ve dedicated my career to putting people like Lucy’s mother behind bars, and then doing it all over again when they get out and reoffend. Lucy doesn’t want to give up on her own parent. I get that.” Did he? With no hope Sierra was really hearing him, he forged on, telling her what he’d learned after looking up the details of Terry Malone’s record, including police reports on the last crime. “This woman has been a drug addict all of Lucy’s life. She’s been convicted of possessing drugs, of selling them, of theft. Last time, she was part of an armed robbery. The clerk at the store was eighteen years old.” He paused to let that sink in. “A kid. Lucy’s mother and her partner held a gun on her. They made her lie down on the floor with her hands behind her head. She thought they were going to execute her, and she peed her pants while they rifled through the cash register and talked about how to get the safe open.” He knew his voice had been rising. Discovered that in his intense frustration he’d planted both hands on the table and risen to his feet as if she were a subordinate he had to dominate. He drew a ragged breath and finished quietly, “That’s Lucy’s mother.”
Sierra burst into tears, flung away from the table and raced for the stairs.
Jon slammed his fist into the palm of his other hand. What he wanted was to throw his beer bottle and watch it smash against the wall. He wanted to kick over chairs, punch his fist through a wall. Instead he squeezed the bridge of his nose and struggled for calm.
He never doubted himself. He’d gotten where he was for a lot of reasons. Because he was smart, decisive, a natural leader. He knew right from wrong and didn’t muddy the waters with sociological hogwash. His absolute, complete certainty was his greatest strength, and Jon knew it.
All it had taken was one beautiful, loving, tormented woman to fracture his certainty.
Eyes closed, he thought, Lucy’s weakening me.
Maybe he should count his blessings that things had happened this way. Loving Lucy wasn’t compatible with being the man he’d made of himself, the crusader who needed to save as many innocents as he could to atone for Cassia.
His fingers tightened on the bridge of his nose until he could have sworn cartilage creaked, but he didn’t feel the pain. All he knew was if he backed down on this—if he said, Sure, fine, it’s okay that my daughter hangs out with a convicted armed robber—he’d violate his deepest beliefs.
He would lose the election, and he’d deserve to.
He’d already lost Lucy, and he was in danger of losing Sierra, too.
“YOU’RE GOING to the NA meeting?” Lucy asked.
Her mother was clearing the table. “Yes. It starts at seven.”
Terry had gone every evening since she’d arrived almost a week ago. Or so she said. It was pathetic, but every night Lucy wondered if that’s where she was really going. When Terry returned home, Lucy found herself watching for any unsteadiness of gait, any slur in her voice, any redness in her eyes.
Dumb. I’d never know if Mom was out scoring drugs all day while I’m at the store.
“Are you making friends at the meetings?” she asked, so casually her mom turned to look at her.
“No,” she said after a moment. “There’s support, but most of the people who come are more your age than mine.” She gave an odd laugh. “Maybe the ones who would be my age are dead.”
Lucy couldn’t imagine what to say to that.
“The NA crowd is younger,” Terry said. “AA has more older people at meetings, but mostly men.”
Lucy felt herself tense. Her mo
ther always, always hooked up with a man. Lucy couldn’t remember whether that signaled the beginning of the end, or if she added the men to help her support a drug habit after she’d started using again.
“Did you apply for any jobs today?” she asked.
“A couple of waitress positions.” Her mother closed the dishwasher. She gave a small, discouraged shrug. “Neither were encouraging.”
“Remember that I can use you tomorrow. I think I can assume Sierra won’t be showing up.”
“Only if you really need me, and it’s not make-work.”
“I really need you,” Lucy said honestly. “Saturday is my busy day. Plus Sierra stocked shelves for me. I got in a good-size order today.”
“You know I’ll be glad to work for you. And you don’t have to pay me. You’ll have to spend half the day telling me what to do.”
“I have to train any new employee and I pay them anyway.”
“I didn’t buy any groceries this week. No, don’t argue with me, Lucy.” For a moment she sounded astonishingly momlike. “It’s all in the family, after all.”
“Yes.” Lucy found herself smiling. “I guess it is.”
“Honey…” Her mother sat at the table again. “You know one of these days we have to really talk.”
Dear God, she didn’t want to. They were getting along. Doing well. Lucy was managing because they hadn’t ripped the bandage off old wounds.
The new ones Jon had dealt her were painful enough.
“What is there to say, Mom? It’s pointless.”
“No.” Terry’s eyes were so sad. “I’d really like to know what you feel, Lucy. I need us to quit pretending it’s all right.”
The storm rose inside Lucy. She ground the heel of her hand against her breastbone, trying to quell it. “What good will it do for me to get angry? To tell you how many times and ways you hurt me? Tell me that.” God. Anguish rose to burn her esophagus. “What good will it do?”
“We should start with honesty.”
“No.” Lucy rose. “That’s the last thing we need, Mom. Trust me.”
“I don’t even know for sure what happened to you when we weren’t together. Whether people were good to you, or—”
“Go to your meeting.” Lucy walked away, went into her bedroom and shut the door. She stood there shaking, thinking, I can’t do this.
I have to do this.
She wished with all her heart that she could call Jon. That she hadn’t made the choice she had. The one she couldn’t unmake, that she still knew was the right one, however much it hurt.
THE SURPRISE WAS that Terry turned out to be an excellent employee. She already knew how to work a cash register, she had a good eye for layout and she enjoyed the pets customers brought into the store. She seemed truly happy to chat with people and didn’t even mind cleaning the cage that held a litter of kittens and the young mother cat from the animal shelter.
Once, in the middle of the day, Lucy heard a laugh of such delight, everything inside her went absolutely still, rapt. Her mom used to laugh like that. Memories tumbled from hidden places. Lucy on a merry-go-round at a playground, thrilled and clinging tightly to the bars as she spun faster and faster until her mom, who was running around and around, fell down and laughed. Mom reading her stories from the library at bedtime, her voice gruff or high and silly or whatever tone was required by the dialogue until they were both giggling. Her mother trying to make animal-shaped pancakes and chortling at the ludicrous results.
Lucy turned to see that her mom was playing with two of the kittens that hadn’t yet been adopted. Hadn’t they had a kitten once? Lucy thought so. She hated knowing it had likely been abandoned when her mom went wherever it was that time, and Lucy went back into foster care. But…her mom had tried. It was easy to forget how hard she’d tried, and what a truly wonderful mother she’d been.
In between.
That’s how Lucy had always thought of it. In between the last foster home and the bad times. She’d wanted so much for the in-between time to stretch, to become forever.
The fact that it never did had embittered her. She supposed that’s why she’d suppressed the happy memories. There were so many of them. She stood there in the middle of the store, utterly captivated by her mother’s laughter, and had trouble breathing as she remembered.
For a moment her chest ached. Why were the good times so fragile?
Her mom carefully closed the cage door, then turned to her, still smiling. “Oh, I hope someone adopts the mommy cat. Did you see her playing, too?”
“She’s barely a year old herself. Really still a kitten. She’ll get a home. I won’t take any more kittens until she’s been adopted, too.”
“That’s good.” Her mom nodded, seemingly pleased. “I’m glad you do this.”
“Did we have a kitten once?” Lucy heard the strangeness in her voice. “I remember a gray and white one.”
The joy dimmed on her mother’s face. “No. I wanted to. But I was always afraid—” She cleared her throat. “No, that kitten belonged to a neighbor.”
“Oh. I just suddenly remembered….”
Her mom’s smile was tentative but beautiful. “You loved playing with it. It was one of those times I wished so much I could give you everything you deserved.”
Lucy’s mouth trembled. The best she could do was nod. She wished, too. She’d wished then, wished now. But she was suddenly glad to have remembered the happiness.
The bell over the door rang and a couple she didn’t know came in. Their dog was developing hot spots and they wondered if the problem was food related. A few minutes later, counseling the people on the difference between grocery-store brands and the high-quality nutrition offered by the foods she sold, Lucy glanced over and saw her mother ringing up a sale as if she was a pro.
She could afford to hire her for more hours than just Saturdays. This might work out.
Maybe if locals got to know her here at the store, someone would consider hiring her for their own business. There it was again: that tiny kernel of hope Lucy could never quite let go. Her mother had been going to NA and AA meetings, and that was good, wasn’t it? She hadn’t used in eight years.
Lucy smiled at the couple she was helping and, once they’d made up their minds, said, “That’s a good choice.” As the man hefted a big bag of kibble, Lucy gestured toward the counter. “My mother will ring you up while I help these other people.”
Lucy didn’t move immediately after they walked away. She hated the emotions churning in her. Most of all, the hope.
Who was she kidding? This was an in-between time, that’s all. She wished she could treasure it for what it was, for what she could give and later feel good about, but she’d never guessed that, in giving, she would lose so much.
She loved her mother, but…she loved Sierra, too. And Jon. She wanted to think that she didn’t really, that he wasn’t the man she’d believed him to be. But she knew that was a lie. Jon was a good man. Too bad he had scars that were still as tender as her own.
I’m the one who lied to him, Lucy thought dully. From the very beginning, I knew what he’d think once he heard about Mom.
If she’d told him up front, maybe nothing ever would have developed between them. She might still have lost Sierra, but she would never have had him to lose.
Nothing like hindsight.
Lucy addressed the new customers. “How can I help you?”
HE MUST BE CRAZY, but…damn it, he was here. Jon sat in his unmarked official vehicle and gazed at the facade of Lucy’s store.
She’d made it inviting. The big wooden sign that read Barks and Purrs also had a painted cat batting a toy mouse and a dog with his leash—the S at the end of Purrs—dangling hopefully from his mouth. The display in the two plate-glass windows was appealing, combining the wonderful textures and colors of beds and toys and sisal scratchers with some gift items, such as wind chimes with dancing metal cats, a tall raku glazed greyhound and some bright puppets for children.
He only wished he had the slightest idea what to say once he was face-to-face with Lucy. That was provided she didn’t throw him out before he had a chance to reason with her.
All he had to do was close his eyes to see her that last time. Passionate, fiery, her hair all but crackling with her rage, her eyes snapping with it—and glazed with tears.
Jon made a ragged sound, got out, locked the car and crossed the sidewalk to the door of her store.
Once inside he saw no one, although he heard a voice in the back room. Movement caught his eye—a cat in the cage near the door, not quite a kitten but not really an adult either, he realized. A pretty little tabby who, at the sight of him, rose to her feet and bumped her head against the mesh.
“Hi, little one,” he murmured, and held out his fingers to her inquiring nose. She purred.
From the back room, Lucy called, “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Crap. He’d rather be kicking in the door to arrest a violent fugitive. And yet he ached to see her.
He approached the counter and waited stoically.
She appeared with a bright smile for a potential customer, her hair captured in a thick braid that bounced over her shoulder. With jeans, she wore a red sweater that hugged her lush curves and flattered the warm tone of her skin. She was…beautiful.
“Lucy.”
Her smile vanished as if it had never been. She stopped where she was, a good fifteen feet away from him. “Let me guess.” She didn’t sound friendly. “You don’t think I’m decent enough to operate a business in your jurisdiction. Maybe I’m selling drugs out of the storeroom. Do you have a search warrant?”
“You know better than that,” he said stiffly. “I came hoping we could talk.”
She crossed her arms in front of her. “About?”
“Sierra.” He paused. Admitted the truth. “Us.”
Her eyes were darker than usual, bitter chocolate. “How can there possibly be an us?”
“Please,” he said. “Let me take you to lunch.”
Finding Her Dad Page 17