painting, she’d simply have to get it out of the house without tipping him off, which wasn’t an enticing proposition. But she’d risk that and a lot more because selling the Ash painting would finally give her the money she needed to keep Delilah at Brookdale. As for supporting herself, she’d go back to Houston and wait tables until she could get a real estate license.
She didn’t fall asleep until well after midnight, and then a nightmare awakened her. She lay there for a moment, skin damp, heart thumping, the dream still with her. Usually she found Gordon’s snores irritating, but now the raspy sounds coming from the bottom of the bed were a comforting reminder that she wasn’t entirely alone in the world.
She’d dreamed about Winnie again. Not the sophisticated woman she’d seen in the antique store last week, but the insecure girl who’d hidden behind her hair and stolen what Sugar Beth wanted the most.
Daddy, you were a real jerk, you know that?
She could never recall exactly how she’d come by the knowledge of her father’s other family—bits and pieces absorbed here and there, snippets of conversations, glimpses of her father in places he shouldn’t have been. Eventually she’d come to understand some of the subtler dynamics of his relationships with the two women in his life. Diddie was Griffin’s mercurial unobtainable Scarlett O’Hara, Sabrina his nurturing, loving Melanie Wilkes; but her earliest memories were merely of her father walking away.
“Watch me do a cartwheel, Daddy.”
“Not now, Sugar Beth. I’m busy.”
“You’re coming to my dance recital, aren’t you?”
“I don’t have time. I have to work so I can pay for those shoes you’re scuffing in the dirt.”
She’d approach him with a book to read, only to have him stand up before she could crawl in his lap. He’d walk off to make a phone call just as she brought him a painting she’d done to please him. She suspected flirting came so easily to her because of the arsenal of little-girl tricks she’d used to get her father’s attention. None of them worked.
She’d been in third grade when she’d discovered she wasn’t her father’s only daughter, and it had all happened because of his disapproval over her schoolwork.
“You got a C in arithmetic? You have the brain of a flea, Sugar Beth. One more thing you inherited from your mother.”
He didn’t understand how torturous school was for her. All that sitting when she wanted to giggle and dance, to jump rope with Leeann and play Barbies with Heidi. To decorate cupcakes with Amy and lip-synch Bee Gee songs with Merilynn. One day after he’d made her cry with another lecture about how stupid she was, she came to the conclusion that her bad grades were the reason he didn’t love her.
For six whole weeks she’d tried her hardest to change that. She sat still in class and finished every bit of her boring, boring homework. She listened to the teacher instead of talking, stopped drawing happy faces all over her workbooks, and, in the end, she’d gotten straight A’s.
By the time she brought her report card home that April afternoon, she was nearly sick with excitement. Diddie fussed over her, but it wasn’t Diddie’s approval she craved, and as she waited for her father to come home, she imagined how he’d smile at her when he saw what she’d done, how he’d swing her up in his arms and laugh.
“What a smart daughter I have. I’m so proud of you, my Sugar Baby. Give your daddy a big kiss.”
She was too excited to eat dinner. Instead, she sat on the veranda and waited for his car.
When it grew dark, and he still hadn’t appeared, Diddie told her it didn’t matter and made her go to bed.
But it did matter. On Saturday morning when she awakened to discover he’d already left the house, she grabbed her precious report card—that magic passport to her father’s love
—and sneaked out of the house. She could still see herself flying across the
She didn’t fall asleep until well after midnight, and then a nightmare awakened her. She lay there for a moment, skin damp, heart thumping, the dream still with her. Usually she found Gordon’s snores irritating, but now the raspy sounds coming from the bottom of the bed were a comforting reminder that she wasn’t entirely alone in the world.
She’d dreamed about Winnie again. Not the sophisticated woman she’d seen in the antique store last week, but the insecure girl who’d hidden behind her hair and stolen what Sugar Beth wanted the most.
Daddy, you were a real jerk, you know that?
She could never recall exactly how she’d come by the knowledge of her father’s other family—bits and pieces absorbed here and there, snippets of conversations, glimpses of her father in places he shouldn’t have been. Eventually she’d come to understand some of the subtler dynamics of his relationships with the two women in his life. Diddie was Griffin’s mercurial unobtainable Scarlett O’Hara, Sabrina his nurturing, loving Melanie Wilkes; but her earliest memories were merely of her father walking away.
“Watch me do a cartwheel, Daddy.”
“Not now, Sugar Beth. I’m busy.”
“You’re coming to my dance recital, aren’t you?”
“I don’t have time. I have to work so I can pay for those shoes you’re scuffing in the dirt.”
She’d approach him with a book to read, only to have him stand up before she could crawl in his lap. He’d walk off to make a phone call just as she brought him a painting she’d done to please him. She suspected flirting came so easily to her because of the arsenal of little-girl tricks she’d used to get her father’s attention. None of them worked.
She’d been in third grade when she’d discovered she wasn’t her father’s only daughter, and it had all happened because of his disapproval over her schoolwork.
“You got a C in arithmetic? You have the brain of a flea, Sugar Beth. One more thing you inherited from your mother.”
He didn’t understand how torturous school was for her. All that sitting when she wanted to giggle and dance, to jump rope with Leeann and play Barbies with Heidi. To decorate cupcakes with Amy and lip-synch Bee Gee songs with Merilynn. One day after he’d made her cry with another lecture about how stupid she was, she came to the conclusion that her bad grades were the reason he didn’t love her.
For six whole weeks she’d tried her hardest to change that. She sat still in class and finished every bit of her boring, boring homework. She listened to the teacher instead of talking, stopped drawing happy faces all over her workbooks, and, in the end, she’d gotten straight A’s.
By the time she brought her report card home that April afternoon, she was nearly sick with excitement. Diddie fussed over her, but it wasn’t Diddie’s approval she craved, and as she waited for her father to come home, she imagined how he’d smile at her when he saw what she’d done, how he’d swing her up in his arms and laugh.
“What a smart daughter I have. I’m so proud of you, my Sugar Baby. Give your daddy a big kiss.”
She was too excited to eat dinner. Instead, she sat on the veranda and waited for his car.
When it grew dark, and he still hadn’t appeared, Diddie told her it didn’t matter and made her go to bed.
But it did matter. On Saturday morning when she awakened to discover he’d already left the house, she grabbed her precious report card—that magic passport to her father’s love
—and sneaked out of the house. She could still see herself flying across the
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