Marilyn Kaye - Better Late Than Never

Thank goodness Rick couldn't see this Other-Amanda. How could she be so shallow, so unfeeling?

Who was she, anyway? Was this the real her, this Other-Amanda she was watching? Or was she the girl inside Ken who was in love with a poet?

Maybe they were one and the same. Maybe Amanda or Other-Amanda or whoever the real person was just talked like that to impress her friends. Because it was the way they behaved. No, she couldn't blame her friends. It was the way she behaved. Because she was "cool."

At least Rick would never know this girl. He could talk only through Ken. But she had to go back inside herself sooner or later. That girl over there, making fun of a guy who showed his feelings--that was her.

For the first time in her life, she didn't like herself very much.

THERE WAS A SURPRISE waiting for Jenna after school on Monday Just as she and Tracey emerged from the building, she spotted the now-familiar yellow car at the curb.

"It's my father," she cried in delight. She ran over to the car.

Stuart rolled down the window. "How's my girl?"

"Fantastic!" Even as she said the word, Jenna was thinking that this was probably the first time she'd ever responded to a question about herself with that word. On the other hand, who had ever called her "my girl" before?

"Just thought you might be interested in an after school snack," he said.

"Sure!" She waved to Tracey. "C'mon, my dad's taking us out for something to eat." She was pleased-- this was the perfect opportunity for Tracey to get to know Stuart and see for herself what a great person he was.

Tracey seemed to be walking unusually slowly, and she didn't look particularly thrilled at the notion.

"Jenna," her father called, beckoning for her to come closer to the window. When she did, he spoke quietly. "Listen, I'd rather this was just the two of us, okay? I need to talk to you."

He looked unusually serious, and at first she was puzzled. Then a disturbing thought occurred to her, and the pessimism she'd pushed to the back of her head returned to the forefront. He wanted to talk to her alone. Why? Because he'd changed his mind about hanging around. Because he was leaving town and he wanted to say goodbye.

She looked back at Tracey. Her friend couldn't have heard him, but she'd stopped approaching anyway.

"Thanks, but I've got tons of homework," Tracey said. "I need to go straight home. Have fun." She turned away and walked off in the opposite direction.

Jenna frowned. Tracey could at least have said hello to Stuart. It wasn't like her to be rude. Jenna joined her father in the car and they headed off. Already depressed, she watched him, waiting for the bad news. She should have known her fantasies were just that--fantasies. Ex-husbands and wives didn't reunite after 13 years--not when they hadn't had any contact at all during that time. There wasn't going to be any little house with a backyard. All those silly dreams she'd had were going to stay just that, dreams. Her father was going to leave, and another 13 years might pass before she'd see him again.

She pressed her lips together tightly. She would not cry. At least, not in front of him. After all the experiences in her life, why hadn't she learned that people always ended up letting you down? She wanted to be angry. But all she could feel was this enormous sense of disappointment.

Stuart pulled into a fast-food restaurant and ordered a couple of drinks from the drive-through window. "Want something to eat?" he asked her. "Some fries? A burger?"

"No thank you," she said stiffly. Five minutes ago, she'd been hungry Now food was the last thing on her mind. Without a word, she took the drink he handed her. They left the parking lot, and he drove silently for a couple of minutes. Turning down a pretty street lined with trees and cute bungalows, he pulled alongside the curb and stopped. As he turned off the engine, jenna asked, "What are we doing here?"

He didn't answer the question. "There's something I have to tell you," he said.

Jenna looked out the window on her side so that she wouldn't have to face him as she replied. "I know. You're leaving."

His silence confirmed her suspicions. Then he said, "I want to explain . . ."

She interrupted. "You don't have to. Could you just take me back to Tracey's?"

"Only if you're willing to leave tomorrow."

Slowly, she turned toward him. "What?"

"Listen to my plan," he said. "I'm tired of running around, and I want to settle down. And I want to make up for what I did to you and your mother. But I'm not doing this just because I feel guilty."

Jenna was more confused than ever. "Doing what?"

He took a sip of his drink before responding.

"I saw your mother this morning."

She was completely taken aback. "How? She's not allowed to have any visitors."

He grinned. "You might not have noticed this, but your father can be pretty charming. I had a little talk with one of the nurses, and she bent the rules."

Jenna was surprised. She thought hospitals were pretty strict about regulations. "How's she doing? Was she shocked to see you?"

"Very. But happy, I'm glad to say. And she looks wonderful. This treatment is working."

"That's great." With no idea what was coming next, Jenna waited uncertainly.

"She'll be leaving the hospital on Sunday," he continued. "And I don't want either of you living in that apartment anymore. I'm going to buy a house."

She blinked. "A house? For me and Mom?"

"For all three of us. To live together, as a family."

Jenna couldn't speak. The lump in her throat was almost painful, and at the same time, she'd never felt so happy.

"Your mother is going to give me another chance," he said. "I don't deserve it, but she wants this, too. I hope you feel the same way."

She felt pretty sure that her expression answered for her. But just in case, she said, "Oh, I do. I do."

He smiled. "Good. Now, we have to be practical. I don't want us spending even one night at Brook side Towers. This morning I saw a house I want to buy." He leaned across Jenna and pointed. "What do you think of it?"

It was like the house of her fantasies. White, with blue trim. Boxes at the windows spilling out red geraniums. Big hanging baskets of flowers on each side of the front door. A manicured lawn. It wasn't a mansion, or even a large house like the Devons'. It was cozy and sweet. It wasn't just a house--it was a home. The perfect little home for a family of three.

"It's beautiful," she breathed.

"I wish you could see the inside, but the owners are out for the day."

"Are you sure it's for sale?" she asked. "I don't see any sign."

"They're nice people," he told her. "Even though I couldn't give them any money up front, they took down the sign. I have until Friday to pay them."

"Friday," she repeated. "This Friday? You mean this week?"

"Yes."

She was mystified. "But it must cost thousands and thousands of dollars. How are you going to get that kind of money? Can you borrow it from the bank?"

He smiled ruefully. "Not with my credit history. No, honey, I'm going to pay cash. And I'm hoping you'll help me."

"How?"

"I'm going to get a few bucks together today and tomorrow," he told her. "Enough for a couple of plane tickets and a little more. On Wednesday, you and I could fly to Las Vegas. The casinos there are open twenty-four hours a day I could join a poker game, and with you by my side, I could win the cost of that house by Friday morning. We fly back, I hand the folks the money we move in on Saturday. We pick up your mother on Sunday and bring her home. Here."

He'd completely taken her breath away. She wasn't even sure she'd comprehended what he'd just said.