Diane Chamberlain - The Good Father

“I’m going to get your new shells,” I said, hoping to avoid the meltdown.

“I don’t want them,” she whimpered.

I went out to the van and got the canvas bag with its lame collection of shells and carried it and the garbage bag filled with sheets and towels back into the trailer. The floor made a hollow sound when I stepped on it. This was going to take some getting used to.

Bella was curled into a ball on the futon, her lamb clutched in her arms, her lower lip jutting out in a pout that was so damn cute I had a hard time not smiling. I used to laugh when she’d pout like that until my mother said I was encouraging it. Mom said she’d turn out to be one of those girls who’d get her way with guys by acting like a pouty baby and I can tell you, that thought wiped the smile off my face. I wanted my daughter to be strong.

“Now, where’s a good place for these?” I asked, looking around the room. At home, we’d had them on the mantel above the non-working fireplace.

She was still pouting, but she sat up a little straighter and started looking around the room. I could see the only ledge in the whole place—under that long narrow kitchen window—but I waited for her to find it on her own. And she did. She hopped off the futon and ran to the sink, pointing to the window. “Up there,” she said.

“Perfect!” I handed her the bag. “You give them to me one at a time and I’ll put them up there.”

She handed me the first one, the giant gray whelk, which was clearly going to be the foundation of her new collection. It was her favorite. I put it right in the middle of the window ledge. She handed me an orange scallop shell and frowned. “The mantel was better,” she said. “There’s no room up there.”

I was kind of impressed she could figure that out. It seemed pretty smart for a four-year-old to realize there wouldn’t be enough space on that ledge as her collection grew. Mom said I had an inflated idea of her brilliance, but what did I know? She seemed smart to me. “Well, you’re right, and when we run out I think we’ll have to put some of them in a bowl, okay?”

“They’ll break.”

“Not if you’re care—”

“Knock knock!”

I turned to see a girl standing in our open doorway. The way she was silhouetted in the sunlight, I couldn’t make out her face, but her voice was unfamiliar and I was sure I didn’t know her.

“Come in,” I said, and she stepped inside. I’d definitely never seen her before. She was the sort of girl you wouldn’t forget. Twenty, maybe, and hot. Smokin’ hot. Maybe a little too skinny, but she had blond hair in a long ponytail that hung over her right breast and she was wearing just about nothing—shorts and sandals and a halter top. I felt myself go hard and had the feeling she knew it. She had one of those Let’s get it on smiles, or maybe I was just fantasizing. It had been months for me and I needed to go back and adjust that list of priorities I’d come up with.

“Hey,” she said. “I’m Savannah. Your next-door neighbor.”

“Cool.” I moved forward to shake her hand. “I’m Travis and this is Bella.” I squeezed Bella’s shoulder and she wrapped one arm around my leg, the other holding the bag of shells.

“Hey, Bella.” Savannah squatted down, giving me a really nice view of her breasts. “Welcome to the neighborhood, honey,” she said. “What do you have in the bag?”

I expected Bella to pull away from her. It usually took her a while to warm up to strangers. But instead, she opened the tote bag and let Savannah peek inside. I wondered if Savannah reminded her of the long-haired doll she carried around in her pink purse.

“Shells!” Savannah’s eyes lit up and she actually sat down on the ratty thin carpet, cross-legged, and patted the spot next to her. “Will you show me? I love shells.”

Okay , I thought. This is finally a stroke of luck . I could have gotten a trailer next door to a crazy old dude who walked around in his undershirt and had a thing for little girls. Instead I was living next to a hot girl who had a way with kids.

“The Beetle is yours?” I asked as Bella took out the rest of her shells and showed them to Savannah, one by one.

“Uh-huh.” Savannah didn’t look at me. Her attention was on Bella and she said nice things about each shell. “I’ve been living here three months and I’m glad to finally have a neighbor. I mean a real neighbor. There were plenty of people over the summer.” She rolled her eyes. “ Too many. But now that the season’s over, it’s lonely here.”

“Do you … I mean, why are you living here?”

“I waitressed during the summer and I’m taking a couple of night classes now. Cosmetology. And I need a cheap place to live and this is about as cheap as it gets.”

I laughed. “Tell me about it.”

Okay, so she wasn’t a rocket scientist, but neither was I. Although at one time, I’d had higher expectations of myself. Those days were gone.

“I wanted to invite you and Bella over for dinner.” She got to her feet and dusted off her hands. “Just mac and cheese, if that’s okay.”

Bella drew in a quick breath. She was still sitting on the floor and she looked up at me with a little smile. Damn, she was cute. I grinned at her. “Mac and cheese work for you, Bella?” I asked. It was her favorite, and she nodded.

“What time?” I asked Savannah.

“Six?”

“Excellent. We’ll settle in. Maybe one of us will take a little nap.”

We exchanged phone numbers and I didn’t tell her I probably wouldn’t have my phone much longer. I hadn’t been able to pay the last bill. I thought about the magnetic signs I had on the sides of my van: Brown Construction, with my phone number below it. I wasn’t taking those signs down, no matter what. I had a thing about them. They were more than just magnetized plastic to me. My dad had had Brown Plumbing signs on the sides of his truck, and when I put my own up, I thought about how he must have felt about those signs. Proud to have his own business. Proud to have a way to support us, the way I’d supported Bella and my mom before the economy totally tanked. What use would those signs be if I had no phone, though?

Savannah’s trailer was a step up from mine, which wasn’t saying much, but you could feel a girly touch when you walked inside. First, it smelled a lot better, between the macaroni and cheese cooking and some other scent. A candle, maybe. Second, she’d put some nicer rugs on top of the old carpeting. Maybe I could do that, too, when I got some money. Third, she’d thrown this gold-striped fabric over the couch along with a bunch of pillows, and there were lamps all over the place. It just felt homey. I could see into the second room, where her bed had a bunch of pillows on it, too, and a yellow quilt. There was one thing that bugged me, though, and that was a bong sitting out on her kitchen counter. I didn’t do drugs. I was even careful with booze. Maybe I messed with it a little after things went south with Robin, but once I had a kid to raise, I cooled it. I didn’t care if Savannah smoked weed. It was no big deal, but the bong right out in the open like that with Bella there … well, I didn’t like it. But I was liking her well enough. She’d changed into a skimpy dress. No bra. She was so thin she didn’t need one, but the fabric of her dress hugged her nipples and I was having trouble keeping my eyes on her face. She’d taken her hair out of the ponytail and it was very long and gold. Smooth and silky. The kind of hair you’d see on a shampoo commercial. I wanted to touch it. Just grab a big fistful of it in my hand.

I needed to slow the hell down.

“Thanks for asking us over,” I said. “I didn’t have a chance to go to the store yet.”