Mary J. - Everything She's Ever Wanted

“No, but you’re still working forever and a day. The judge would put her in foster care before he’d give her to you.”

He let the words settle and brand. Melody was good at branding. Foster care. Where he’d spent three long, lonely years bouncing around, after his mother burned his father to death in the shed behind his family’s home. He’d had enough of foster care and social workers to last ten lifetimes. They’d have to kill him before he’d let one near Hallie or have her humiliated by a court battle that could see her carted off to some unknown pair deemed “caring and responsible” by The System.

“You know damned well,” his ex was saying, “she’s better off with me than in one of those places.”

He did know. That was the crux of this whole situation. Had been for years. But he also knew her words were a lot of hot air. If Hallie moved anywhere, it would be into his house. He’d see to that.

“Anyway, if Hallie’d told me,” Melody went on, “you know I would’ve left her the money.”

His jaw ached from clenching. “Actually I don’t. But I do know this. Leaving our daughter alone overnight is wrong. She’s not all grown-up. If you can’t be there for her, I will.”

“Big talk from a guy who’s never home himself. Least I work a nine to five most days.”

Only because your daddy bought you Cut ’n’ Class hair salon.

He ignored his thumping blood, zeroed in on the reason he’d come to this door. “Hallie wants to go to a movie this afternoon without a chaperone. I don’t see it as a problem.”

“Sure you don’t. You’re a man. Men think—”

“Jeez, Mel, it’s an afternoon movie, not an orgy. What can it hurt?”

Melody flicked ashes into the flower bed beside the stoop. “Orgy. Now there’s a word and a half. For your information, a helluva lot can hurt if that boy starts pawing her.”

“No one’s going to paw her. They’ll go to the movie, watch it and she’ll come home. End of story.”

“Ha. I was fifteen once. I know what goes on in those back rows, in the dark.”

“Don’t judge our daughter by your standards.”

“Oh, aren’t we all righteous? Like you never copped a feel in the back of a theater, you and those bad boy brothers of yours.”

Not at fifteen. He’d been too busy working his ass off after school. Trying to sweeten the B in his hive of marks. As for Jon and Luke, they’d been men in their twenties and gone from home. What they did with women was their business.

He set his hands on his hips, let out a deep breath. “Cut her some slack, Mel. She’s a normal teenage girl, a good girl. She won’t get in trouble at the damn movie.”

Melody tilted her head, squinted against a stream of smoke. “Did she tell you how old this guy is?” She smirked at his silence. “Didn’t think so. He’s a senior. Seventeen. A MacAllister.” As if that said it all.

The MacAllisters of Trailer Trash Park.

Fifteen years ago, Delwood Owens had swept Seth into the same backyard barrel.

Melody went on. “He part-times at the Garage Center. You still want her to go alone?”

Dammit. If he didn’t support Hallie, he’d lose his one skimpy chance of truly bonding with her. If he disagreed with Melody, whatever connection still existed between mother and daughter would be shot.

He said, “Why not let her go, if she promises to be home within half hour of it finishing? That’s roughly three hours, Mel. You can trust her for three hours in the middle of the day in a public place, for Pete’s sake.”

“In a dark public place. With a man. At eighteen, I was—”

Pregnant. And she’d never forgiven him for it. Not for “messing up” her life. For damn sure, not for squashing her big dreams of becoming a model.

Seth pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look. What if I made a point of meeting the boy first?”

“You’d do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” If it’ll help my child.

“Fine.” She stuck her head back inside, yelled, “Hallie, get out here.”

The girl had obviously hovered within inches of the door; she appeared at once.

Melody exhaled smoke. “I’ve decided to have your father check this Tristan out first. Then I’ll decide if you can go to the movie.” She turned to Seth. “Can you be back here…” A glance at Hallie. “What time’s the movie, one-thirty?”

Hallie stared at Seth as if he’d dumped a load of fish at her feet. “You’re checking Tristan out like he’s a piece of—of machinery? That’s so lame! Never mind, okay? I’m not going.” With a whack, the inside door shut in their faces.

Melody sighed. “Well. Seems we’ve solved the problem.”

Seth wanted to rush after his daughter, hold her, protect her from the harsh gusts of reality. She’d come to him. Eager for his help, for his trust.

And he’d fouled up. I’m sorry!

To Melody he said, “There never was a problem.”

“No?”

“No.”

She snorted, arced the half-smoked cigarette onto the cement driveway, several feet from where he stood. “Shows how much you know, or care, about your daughter.”

He studied the woman who had borne his child. Aging like a sour apple. “I may not know her the way you do, but I care. More than you could ever imagine.” He walked away. His heart flayed his ribs.

“Wait a minute.” She hurried down the drive after him. “Where you going?”

“To work.”

“Aren’t you coming back?”

“No.”

“But what about that boy? What am I supposed to do if he shows up this afternoon?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

“Oh, isn’t this like you,” she sneered. “Always running off when the going gets tough.”

Hand on the door handle of the truck, Seth paused. “Tough? You don’t know the meaning of the word. I busted my back to make a home for you. What did it get me? Ten years of hell. Ten years of seeing my little girl wait on a curb so I could drop her off a day later. Well, things are about to change, Mel. Hallie’s old enough to make her own choices now, and I’m not the poor schmuck you divorced.”

Her mouth turned ugly. “You jerk. This isn’t finished, you know, not by a long shot.”

“Oh, it’s finished, all right. It was finished the day our daughter was born and you and your daddy decided a construction man wasn’t good enough for the family.”

Heart hurting for his child, he climbed into the cab and drove off, leaving his ex-wife glaring after him, in a robe showing enough leg to make a racehorse jealous.

Hallie curled on her bed and hugged Sunny, her favorite fuzzy bear, to her chest. The furry little creature had been a gift from her dad when she was born. Love-tattered, missing an eye, Sunny held a treasured place on her bed, in her heart. This minute, he hid her tears, muffled her sobs.

If she hadn’t opened the window…hadn’t been so impatient to hear her dad’s voice one more time, his boot heels smacking the cement driveway, his truck door slamming…

Last night, it’d taken every ounce of courage to walk to his place, to seek his help. She wasn’t used to asking for help. Once he’d lived in this very house and laughed and teased and tugged her pigtails. She’d ridden his shoulders out to his truck where he’d swung her down, cuddled his hard, lean face into her neck, blown raspberries. Every day. Before he drove off to work.

Then he moved out, into another house.

She used to cry at night until she fell asleep.

She used to blame herself for his leaving.

She’d believed she’d done something wrong.

Now she knew the truth, why his trips to Eugene had waned. Once she’d thought it was his work and the long drives. It was finished the day our daughter was born…