Anna Adams - Her Daughter's Father

Pressure beat behind his eyes as Jack stared at the older man. Maybe Hayden was right. If Colleen had talked to Nettie about Mary, maybe she’d find a way to talk about the other things she couldn’t tell him. “What about your house in Baltimore?”

“Nettie’s cousin in D.C. will check on it. Besides, we’re not so far away that we can’t go home if we need to.”

Even as Jack opened his mouth to give in, the front door slammed open. Colleen’s usual entrance. Leaving Hayden behind, he hurried through the kitchen archway. In the dim light, he saw what Colleen had done to herself while in her grandmother’s care.

Her hair, much darker than the honey-blond it had been that morning, stood on end. Exaggerated paleness painted on her cheeks and eyelids stopped Jack cold. She smiled through black lips. Behind her, Nettie hovered, cautious as Colleen ought to be.

“What have you done?” Jack clutched at his slipping temper. Who knew parenting could scare the hell out of a grown man? His daughter needed him, but he couldn’t figure out what she needed. “Colleen, what have you done to yourself?”

Adolescence hadn’t robbed her of all her good sense. A hint of anxiety finally entered her eyes. “I had a make-over.”

“A makeover?” She looked like one of the living dead. Jack eased in a deep breath. Their arguments followed the same pattern. Step one—he lost his mind. Step two—she clammed up. Step three—silence deepened the gap between them. “Go upstairs and clean your face. We’ll talk about this in a few minutes.”

“I paid for the makeup, Dad.” Squaring her shoulders, Colleen lifted a Macy’s shopping bag. “I plan to use it.”

Jack stared at his daughter, pointedly ignoring Nettie and Hayden, who were blind to the fact they didn’t help Colleen when they financed her mistakes. “How did you pay?”

She hesitated, reluctant to involve Nettie, keeper of the moneybags. She bit her lip and shifted her shopping to her other hand. “Grandma gave me the money.”

Nettie scooted around her. “Now, Jack, honey, I know this looks bad.” She was as reluctant as Colleen to come clean. “I didn’t know—I thought, what’s the harm in a little makeup? I—”

“But where were you when she did this?” As he switched on the hall light to see his daughter’s hair, Jack’s fuse burned a little shorter. He turned Colleen’s head so that the spiky ends glinted. “Purple?” Appalled, he let her go.

“No. Burgundy.” Colleen tapped her palm gently over the points.

Her hair looked like an eggplant sunburst.

In one more rescue attempt, Nettie nudged Colleen farther behind her and lifted one hand to her own shoulder. Clenching her face in an exaggerated grimace, she rubbed her shoulder, as if her muscles ached horribly. With a sideways glance, she made sure she’d lured Jack’s attention away from Colleen. “I indulged in a short massage.” She tilted her head toward her granddaughter. “I’ve been under a little stress, you know.”

Hayden showed up at Jack’s side. “Nettie.” His voice dripped disappointment.

“I know. I know.” Her show of guilt made Jack want to laugh and shout at the same time. Nettie dropped her head. “I don’t know how I—”

“Dad, this isn’t Grandma’s fault.” Colleen stepped in front of Nettie. “I tricked her.”

“I’m the adult, Colleen.” Nettie muscled back in front of her granddaughter, forcing Jack to retreat a step or two. She patted her own perfect silver coiffure with delicate weariness. “I should have paid closer attention.”

Their protective dance softened Jack’s heart. Leaning against the wall, he pressed his palms to the cool plaster. Since Mary’s death, Colleen had held her emotions tight. The joy he’d loved in her seemed muted, and she showed him only frustration. He’d tried to give her privacy, because he understood her need. Later he realized she’d stopped telling him her troubles. Only when she’d begun to act out anger she refused to discuss had he realized he should have pried.

He couldn’t punish Colleen for withdrawing when he’d let her go to give her time. She missed Mary, but she refused to talk to him about her grief. He’d thought he understood because his own pain and sorrow had felt so private.

Maybe if he let Nettie stay, Colleen would find a way to talk to her.

Jack swallowed a huge lump in his throat. Why can’t she talk to me? But before she went and did something to herself he couldn’t undo, she had to talk to someone. And Nettie made her care more than anyone else could.

All three of them waited for what he’d do next. “Go wash your face, Colleen,” he said again. “I don’t want you to wear that stuff to the festival tonight.”

A slight, relieved smile curved her mouth, but she held it back. “I’ll do something about my hair, too.”

Reluctant to look too closely at the damage, Jack allowed himself a brief nod. “Your grandpa and grandma are going to stay awhile, until I finish the boat.”

Colleen hesitated, looking from Nettie to Hayden. “Great. Two more keepers.”

Jack pushed away from the wall. “Cut it out.”

She headed for the stairs, the heels of her ankle boots tapping on the pine floor’s wide planks. She whirled, planting her hands on the balustrade to look down with pink cheeks and stormy eyes.

“Don’t be mad at Grandma, Dad. I’ve tricked you before, too.”

He didn’t trust himself to speak until Colleen slammed her door, and its echo let the air out of him. He turned and took Nettie’s hand. “I’m sorry it’s not a more exclusive club.” He glanced from her to Hayden. “Are you sure you still want to stay?”

“YOU LOOK FINE, INDIA. Stop worrying, and try to have a good time. Tonight’s your chance to meet people who might tell you something about her.” Her father lowered his voice on the pronoun.

India smoothed the hem of her new plaid skirt over her thighs and felt conspicuous. “She might be out there.” India nodded at the festival crowd that snaked around the cavernous high school gym. “I feel like a kid, myself, in this. Maybe I’ll call Mom tonight and ask her to send some of my things.”

Mick handed her a plastic cup of pink stuff. “Try this. A little girl wearing that same skirt poured it for me. I’ve never seen hair her color—purple, I swear. I’m not sure I could mix paint to match.”

Smiling despite choking tension, India held the glass at her lips. “Thanks, Dad. I feel better now.”

Mick ran his hand over her gauzy sleeve. “Your eyes look like big blue marbles. Relax.”

India shifted away. After all these years, she hardly knew how to accept her father’s comfort. She twisted the blond strands of her ponytail. She’d tried so hard to protect her parents, she’d forgotten how to go to them when she was afraid.

And she was scared stiff. What would she say if she met Colleen? Nothing. She couldn’t intrude in Colleen’s life. She had to run away as she had so long ago.

She’d kept running until those few terrifying moments on a burning plane had taught her what was important. Family. Living down the past before it ate up the future. She’d been all appearance before, but now she wanted to feel the emotions she’d hidden from, as long as she did nothing to hurt Colleen. “What if she’s here? What if I meet her accidentally?”

Mick sipped his own drink, somehow understanding her mid-thought conversation. “She might also be at home, tucked up in her own bed. She might be out of town. Don’t get your hopes up.”

India rubbed her index finger through the condensation on her plastic glass. “I’m not secretly hoping to run into her.”

Hurt bruised her father’s gaze. “I’m not saying you’d try to see her, but you’re my daughter, and I don’t want you hurt.”