Anna Adams - Her Daughter's Father

To his astonishment, Colleen laughed. A sweet, rich peal of laughter he’d known all her life. He grinned. Somewhere inside her lingered his little girl, the child who’d once firmly believed he knew all the answers.

“You know, Dad, Marcy’s mother has been after Mr. Shipp to paint their house.”

“Marcy?” Jack knew the girl. “How’s her eyebrow ring working out?”

“We’re talking about her house. Honest, the paint looks as bad as Mrs. Shipp says. Maybe we should stop by there.”

Her sincerity reeled him in. Jack nudged her shoulder, teasing. “All right, but I have to know one thing, and tell me the truth.” She looked so worried, he almost laughed. “Did Marcy pierce her own eyebrow?”

“Dad!” She shoved back, which apparently didn’t count as affection.

“All right, but your eyebrows are off-limits. Agreed?”

A FEW DAYS LATER, Colleen couldn’t remember the laughter she’d shared with her father. With one swift glance at him sanding the bow of the Sweet Mary, she dropped over the boatyard fence. Chris waited, engine running, behind a stand of trees that hid his car from her father. Boiling with resentment, Colleen slid into the passenger seat.

“What did he say to you?” Chris didn’t even wait for her to speak before he turned into the street.

Colleen twisted on the vinyl. “Everything. He just kept on. He said if they had nothing to teach me I’d be bored, but making straight A’s. Then he started on how I wouldn’t be able to get into a good college.”

Chris snorted. “How can he expect you to know what you want to do for the rest of your life? I’m eighteen, and I don’t know.”

Colleen held a careful silence. Her father wouldn’t be surprised to hear that. “He said I let you change me, that I’ve been different since you came along—like I needed you to tell me school is a waste of time.”

“Since I came along?” Chris’s derisive laugh raised prickles of discomfort along Colleen’s spine. He leaned over for a swift, hard kiss. “I don’t see a thing wrong with your attitude. Maybe I should talk to your dad, myself.”

“He’s not kidding, Chris. He really doesn’t like you.”

“Do I care?” Chris nosed the car to the curb. “He doesn’t have to like me as long as you do.”

Pretending to check the buckle on her boot, Colleen shifted away from Chris’s hand. Lately, when he touched her, he made sure she knew what he wanted and how hard he’d try to take it.

She edged another thin slice of space between them. “You could try more with Dad. My grandparents agree with him, and they all try to keep me from seeing you.”

Chris slammed his fist on the gearshift. “I’m tired of Jack Stephens. Who does he think he is? I heard the bank came sniffing around to see how much work he’s done on the repairs. He’s a deadbeat, Colleen.”

She might be mad at her dad, but Chris’s opinion made her madder at him. She shrank against the car door. “Don’t talk about him that way.”

Chris burned her with angry eyes. “I’ll bet you don’t tell him to shut up when he talks about how bad I am.”

“I didn’t say shut up.” She wrapped her palm around the door handle. “He is my father.”

Chris snatched a handful of her sweatshirt. “Maybe it’s time you picked one of us. Look at the way I treat you. Are you loyal to me or to a guy who acts like you’re a baby?”

Unwilling to admit Chris frightened her, even when he forced her to recognize her fear, Colleen tightened her hand on the door. “You want me to choose between you and my dad?”

“Yeah, between me and some guy who’ll be lucky to keep one of those old broken-down nets on his boat. He thinks he’s such a man.”

Colleen opened the door with a slow screech of metal against metal. “I called you because I needed to talk to you. You say you care about me.”

Chris softened his grip on her shirt, trying to turn his palm against her breast. “I say I love you.”

She shoved him away. “I’ve asked you not to do that.”

His pupils glittered. “Maybe you are a baby after all.” His voice hissed like a snake.

Truly afraid now, she slid backward out of the car. He laughed when she landed on the pavement on her bottom.

“Maybe I am a baby, but I’ll walk from here.” She scrambled to her feet, hauling her short skirt down. “Okay?”

“No, it’s not okay. Don’t act like this. You always try to ignore me when you’re mad. We’re just arguing.”

“I wanted to talk.”

“You want me to guess what you want. I know what I need.”

As if that settled everything, he pulled the door shut and drove off. Colleen stared after him, her legs shaking. He drank more than she ever let on, because he hated living in this small town where everyone knew his life inside and out. But Colleen didn’t think he’d had anything today.

He’d left her in the middle of the street, said terrible things about her father. And he’d tried to grope her again. Could her dad be right about Chris?

What had he meant by that crack about making him guess what she wanted? She’d told him, in every way she knew, not to touch her like that. And how was she supposed to tell anyone what she wanted if no one ever listened to her, anyway?

She turned toward the marina, more alone than ever. If only her mother hadn’t died. Colleen swallowed hard. Even after three years, she missed her mom, but she couldn’t talk to her dad about that, either. No matter how much she wanted him out of her business, she hated the look of pain that still came into his eyes when he didn’t think she noticed.

And Grandma. Poor Grandma needs someone to look after her more than I do. If only her mom…

At the top of the hill, Colleen paused. She’d meant to ask Chris to take her to the marina. Looking out at the water, at the sailboats bobbing all around her, she felt clearer, calmer. But today she missed her mother, and her mother had never liked the bay.

She’d resented the water like another woman who stole Colleen’s father away, and sometimes even Colleen had wondered why he’d worked such long hours. She scuffed her feet in the gravel at the edge of the road.

Her dad and mom had loved each other, but they’d had problems, like every other married couple she’d ever heard of. Her dad’s grief had been real after her mom died. Why did everyone believe she couldn’t see what went on around her?

Colleen hesitated on the road. She couldn’t go home. Grandma badgered almost as much as her father about grades. Maybe she’d go to the library. She’d entered her favorite picture of her mom in their exhibition of island families. They hadn’t sent it back yet, so maybe they’d used it. Her father certainly hadn’t missed it from the piano.

Too busy looking for signs she’d spent ten seconds alone with Chris, he couldn’t seem to see their problems went deeper than her choice of a boyfriend. Chris was right about one thing. He already saw her as a woman. She mattered to him, but her father still believed she was a baby. Because of his attitude, even strangers like India Stuart treated her like an infant.

India Stuart. A perfect match for Dad. A worrier who had no problem “helping” even though it meant butting into someone else’s life. Colleen scuffed her feet deliberately along the rough pavement. She tried to forget how scared she’d been of Chris. He’d been completely sober the day he’d driven her to thank India for her help, and he’d given her a lift even though he’d believed India ought to apologize to him for hitting his car. Nothing wrong with that.

NELL FISHER ROSE WITH INDIA and offered her hand across the desk. “I’m so glad you came in. I can’t convince my regular patrons they have time to read to the toddlers or shelve books, or even read back titles for me while I do inventory.”