help, child that she is, when she couldn't find the sweater she wanted to wear. It's like nothing has changed! She just made the volleyball team, though I can't imagine she'll be able to play the late games in March, but she's barreling ahead as if everything's okay. Only it isn't . She doesn't seem to see any consequences. But I'm feeling them already. People are talking--and they don't even know about the other two"--she waved the thought away--"I can't begin to go there yet. My boss is furious even without it--at me, not at Lily, at me . What did I do wrong, except raise her the best way I know how?" Eyes tearing, she crossed her arms. "Why are you smiling? This is serious, Rick."
"Boy, have I missed you," he said in that rich voice of his.
"That is irrelevant!" she cried, fighting panic. "We're in a crisis here, only my daughter-- your daughter--doesn't seem to understand that. Three girls pregnant? Every time I think about it, I start to shake. If she wanted to rebel, couldn't she have dyed her hair pink, or pierced her navel, or gotten a tattoo?"
"She says it isn't rebellion."
"No," Susan allowed, "not rebellion. She wants a family. So how does that make me feel? I've worked my tail off to be her family. If she was that desperate for a bigger one, she should have told me. I could have adopted a baby. I could have gone to a sperm bank."
"You could have asked me."
"Rick, this isn't funny . She's pregnant, refuses to identify the guy, and doesn't have a clue what her future will be like."
"Would it help if she did?" he asked in a tone so reasonable that Susan's anger ebbed.
"Maybe not." She sighed. "She knows I'll always be there."
"Because you're a good mother."
"I'm a lousy mother," Susan cried, quickly restoked. "I'm behaving badly, and I can't seem to help it. I resent her confidence. I resent her cavalier attitude. I'm even feeling jealous-- jealous --because she's going through the same thing I did, only she'll have it easier. I've struggled to get us to this place. People respect me, Rick. I've worked so hard to redeem myself for doing what everyone in my life said was irresponsible, and I actually thought I'd made it. Now Lily has taken that away. Negated everything. I feel betrayed. By a seventeen-year-old."
"She's not just any seventeen-year-old."
"No. So maybe some of my anger is justified--but I'm doing exactly what my mother did, everything I swore I would never do, and that's sick."
His expression softened. Saying nothing, he reached out and brought her close. And, of course, she was lost. He had that power--could clear her mind of rational thought with a touch--not that she was complaining. This was the first respite from worry that she'd had in two weeks. However briefly, her problems were shared.
She didn't know how long they stood there, but she didn't hurry to leave. Everything about Rick was familiar. For all the different places he'd been and people he'd met, he remained the same man--same warmth, same smell, same heartbeat. Her connection with him was as strong as ever.
The slow breath he took as he held her said that he felt the same. Coming after her outburst, that meant a lot.
Finally, raising her head, she managed a small smile. "You're here for Lily's concert."
His eyes were on her mouth. "I wasn't sure I'd be able to make it. My dad's expecting me for Thanksgiving, so I came in across the Pacific, but I kept thinking that Lily and I needed to talk in person. She won't tell me much on the phone. So I touched down in LA and took right off again. I've been traveling for thirty-six hours. Missed every connection possible."
Susan knew Rick. He was a seasoned traveler who could catnap anywhere. But, yes, his eyes were tired. "You need sleep."
"I need a shower more." He glanced at his watch. "How much time before the concert?"
"Thirty minutes."
"Plenty. First a shower." He shot a covetous look at the chicken pot pie that sat on top of the stove. "Is that what she didn't want to
"Boy, have I missed you," he said in that rich voice of his.
"That is irrelevant!" she cried, fighting panic. "We're in a crisis here, only my daughter-- your daughter--doesn't seem to understand that. Three girls pregnant? Every time I think about it, I start to shake. If she wanted to rebel, couldn't she have dyed her hair pink, or pierced her navel, or gotten a tattoo?"
"She says it isn't rebellion."
"No," Susan allowed, "not rebellion. She wants a family. So how does that make me feel? I've worked my tail off to be her family. If she was that desperate for a bigger one, she should have told me. I could have adopted a baby. I could have gone to a sperm bank."
"You could have asked me."
"Rick, this isn't funny . She's pregnant, refuses to identify the guy, and doesn't have a clue what her future will be like."
"Would it help if she did?" he asked in a tone so reasonable that Susan's anger ebbed.
"Maybe not." She sighed. "She knows I'll always be there."
"Because you're a good mother."
"I'm a lousy mother," Susan cried, quickly restoked. "I'm behaving badly, and I can't seem to help it. I resent her confidence. I resent her cavalier attitude. I'm even feeling jealous-- jealous --because she's going through the same thing I did, only she'll have it easier. I've struggled to get us to this place. People respect me, Rick. I've worked so hard to redeem myself for doing what everyone in my life said was irresponsible, and I actually thought I'd made it. Now Lily has taken that away. Negated everything. I feel betrayed. By a seventeen-year-old."
"She's not just any seventeen-year-old."
"No. So maybe some of my anger is justified--but I'm doing exactly what my mother did, everything I swore I would never do, and that's sick."
His expression softened. Saying nothing, he reached out and brought her close. And, of course, she was lost. He had that power--could clear her mind of rational thought with a touch--not that she was complaining. This was the first respite from worry that she'd had in two weeks. However briefly, her problems were shared.
She didn't know how long they stood there, but she didn't hurry to leave. Everything about Rick was familiar. For all the different places he'd been and people he'd met, he remained the same man--same warmth, same smell, same heartbeat. Her connection with him was as strong as ever.
The slow breath he took as he held her said that he felt the same. Coming after her outburst, that meant a lot.
Finally, raising her head, she managed a small smile. "You're here for Lily's concert."
His eyes were on her mouth. "I wasn't sure I'd be able to make it. My dad's expecting me for Thanksgiving, so I came in across the Pacific, but I kept thinking that Lily and I needed to talk in person. She won't tell me much on the phone. So I touched down in LA and took right off again. I've been traveling for thirty-six hours. Missed every connection possible."
Susan knew Rick. He was a seasoned traveler who could catnap anywhere. But, yes, his eyes were tired. "You need sleep."
"I need a shower more." He glanced at his watch. "How much time before the concert?"
"Thirty minutes."
"Plenty. First a shower." He shot a covetous look at the chicken pot pie that sat on top of the stove. "Is that what she didn't want to
Similar Books
The Evil That Men Do: FBI Profiler Roy Hazelwood's Journey Into the Minds of Sexual Predators
Stephen G. Michaud, Roy Hazelwood
