Amy Atwell - Lying Eyes

Cosmo stood in the middle of her living room.

“You son of a bitch.” Iris’s fists settled on her jean-clad hips.

He riffled a hand through his wild silver hair. “I guess I deserve that.” His pale face looked thinner, more haggard, and his eyes, normally bright like a child’s, had a haunted, exhausted haze to them. No flamboyant excuses, no grand gestures, his hands dropped to his sides as he stood and awaited-what?

Her judgment? Her forgiveness? Her acceptance?

“How dare you waltz in here after three days like nothing’s happened?” Remembering that Foote stood outside the door, she managed to keep her voice down. Barely.

“Well, of course stuff has happened. There’s been jewels stolen, and people shot, and-”

“I’m not talking about the alexandrite here, I’m talking about us.”

He blinked at her with wide eyes. “Are you angry with me?”

Oh, he was good. “Don’t try that innocent act on me. I passed angry on Saturday, and that was before I was kidnapped, thank you. Now, Mickey took a bullet for you-you’re lucky he’s not dead, or I might very well be patricidal about now.”

He locked on to the most positive news she’d given him. “Mickey’s all right then, is he? Good man, Mickey. Always knew he liked me.”

“He doesn’t like you, Cosmo. He’s a cop.”

Her father did a double take, but recovered quickly. “Well…of course he is. What, you thought I didn’t know that?” He licked his lips.

Iris vented an audible groan.

“Come help me coax Edgar out from under the bed. He acts like he doesn’t even know me anymore.”

She followed him into the bedroom. If nothing else, it made it less likely Foote would overhear them and burst in to see whether she was all right. In case she did decide to throttle her wayward father, she’d hate to be caught in the act.

Cosmo was on his hands and knees beside the bed. “Come on, Edgar, it’s me. Daddy.”

Watching him coax the rabbit out for a cuddle pissed her off. He hadn’t even offered to hug her. “Edgar’s probably seen through all your lies, and he’s done with you.”

Cosmo looked up at her, then rose with creaky knees. “I doubt if anyone really knows what I’ve been going through, so if you’ve got questions, why don’t you ask them?” He pushed a hand through his wild mop of hair again, sending it into further disarray.

This weekend-and before-had taken its toll on him. He was starting to get old.

Her hands dropped to her sides as she acknowledged he wasn’t the adversary. She didn’t want to fight him; she merely wanted answers. “Why, Cosmo?”

“Why did I steal the jewels?”

“Oh, I’ll get to that in a minute. But first, why did you have three families?”

He heaved a sigh. “It’s not that simple a question.”

“Then don’t lie to me with some simple answer.”

“I didn’t expect you to be bitter,” he said as if he couldn’t fathom it.

Iris barked out a laugh. “I’m not…bitter.” But at least part of her was. All her childhood, she’d been an inadequate daughter, and she wanted to know why. What had he wanted from her?

Cosmo sat on the bed. “I had the good luck-or maybe misfortune-to fall in love with three remarkable women. I traveled in Russia for a year doing my magic act with a local circus troupe, and I met your mother. She was smart, talented, beautiful. I learned she was carrying you before I returned home, so I brought her with me.”

“But you apparently already had two wives, so why marry a third?”

“You don’t know what it’s like to learn you’re going to be a parent. I wanted to do the right thing. Now, would it have been better if I hadn’t married her? Would you be prouder of me if I’d left my first wife-my childhood sweetheart who’d never been able to have a child-after I’d strayed? Would you think better of me if I’d left Russia without a word to Irina and abandoned you to being raised by her family?”

“At least then I would have had a family.”

“You do have a family. You’ve always had one. I’m sorry we all disappointed you. I never fit your image of what a father should be. Your mother was an artist-more involved with her design work than with you. I tried to surround you with good people, even if they were gamblers and performers. We loved you.”

She pictured his definition of good people-his poker-playing cronies, the couple with the trained housecat act, the Asian acrobat family, burly stagehands who taught her rope tricks, the costumer who’d allowed her to help sew sequins on leotards. They’d all lavished time on a little girl. And yet, as a teenager, she’d turned away from all of them.

“You can’t have a family unless you participate. You were always so withdrawn that I never knew what you wanted from me. I just knew I wasn’t doing it right.”

“Why couldn’t I be the most important thing in your world?” Her voice sounded small and childlike to her ear.

“Who says you aren’t?” Then he spoiled it. “But you’re asking me to live in only one world-my world as your father. I don’t know any man who can do that.”

“Come off it. You make it sound like all men have multiple families.”

“Most do. Oh, they might not have simultaneous marriages. I admit, I wouldn’t recommend that to the average man. But through divorce they have ex-wives, children, stepchildren, multiple in-laws. That’s before you add in their careers, or maybe they’re sports enthusiasts-you know ‘golf widow’ isn’t just a catchy term. It’s a real life for many women.”

Iris thought about David, how he could be lost for an hour if the conversation turned to golf. Or the nights he’d canceled dinner plans because he was still with a client. No, he didn’t have crazy schemes, but had she really held any more of his attention?

“I made sure I was always there for your big moments-your birthdays, the school play, that week when you had your wisdom teeth removed.”

Closing her eyes, she smiled. Cosmo had made her milkshakes. Sort of a catastrophe, setting him loose in a kitchen with ice cream, syrup and a blender.

“But you’ve always withheld yourself from me. I never knew what I was doing wrong. I just knew I was a screwup as a father as far as you were concerned. And lately, it’s felt like you didn’t even want me in your life.”

The hurt in his voice chafed her. All these years she’d accused Cosmo of being so selfish, had she been just as self-centered? Had her expectations been too high? In the end, had he harmed her or her mother with his multiple families?

“You’re my firstborn child, and you’ve made me so proud. I wish I could be that father you want, but after this many years, I think we’ll have to agree that’s hopeless.” He stood and smoothed his hands down his coveralls before he looked at her again. “If you could just love me…a little…as I am…”

A sob welled up within her, and she quit trying to rationalize anything except that he was here. She rushed to his open arms, nearly toppling him with her velocity, but he caught her just as he always had.

“There, there, Rissie. I’m here, and I love you. I never lied about that.”

“I do love you, Dad.” So what if he wasn’t a storybook dad, he was her dad. She loved him despite the flaws and foibles. Deep within, her bitterness started to melt as she surrendered her fairy-tale images of the ideal family. Maybe if she quit expecting her father to live up to some level of perfection, she could quit expecting it of herself, too.

She’d planned a future with David because he wanted a time commitment from her more than an emotional one. It had been so businesslike, practical, dull. And believing she’d never been able to hold her father’s love, she’d pushed Mickey away rather than risk losing him.