Sparring Partners(21)

He had programmed himself to fight off the emotions, the memories, the cherished photos of little girls in pigtails and pretty Easter dresses and dance costumes. The bedtime stories, the first day of kindergarten, the broken arm, the new family puppy. He had tucked those images away for so long he was convinced he could bury them forever, but when he saw her his knees quivered and his throat closed. He swallowed hard and clenched his jaw and willed himself to get tough, to power through it. A lot depended on her.

She finally turned and looked at him. Her eyes were already moist. “Why are you back?”

“I was hoping for a hug.”

She shook her head slightly and without a hint of emotion said, “No hugs, Mack. Not yet anyway.”

He was startled to be called “Mack” by his daughter, but then he had tried to prepare himself for a lot of surprises.

She stared at him coldly and her moist eyes seemed to clear. She pointed to a chair at the table, on his side, and said, “Why don’t you sit there and I’ll sit over here?”

Without a word Mack sat down and she did too, with the table between them. He studied her face and adored what he saw. She studied his and wasn’t so sure. She had Lisa’s soft brown eyes, full lips, and perfect skin. She had his high cheekbones and rounded chin. Since she had yet to smile he wasn’t sure about the teeth, though, as he recalled with horror, the orthodontist had cost a bundle when she was about twelve. The teeth better be perfect.

“What’s with the beard?” she asked in a tone that left little doubt she wasn’t a fan.

“I got tired of the face.”

“Part of the disguise?”

“Sure, along with the glasses.”

“You look a lot older than I remember.”

“Thanks. So do you. How’s your mother?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I was once married to her and I am concerned.”

She scoffed at this and looked away. “She’s very sick, down to eighty pounds. I find it hard to believe you’re really interested.”

He nodded gamely and admired her pluck. He deserved anything she could hurl across the table. He asked, “And Helen? How’s she holding up?”

“Do you really care about us, Mack?”

“You know, I think ‘Dad’ sounds better than ‘Mack,’ so can we go with it?”

“Why? Are you trying to be a father again? You gave up the father thing when you abandoned us. You don’t have the right to consider yourself my father.”

“That’s pretty tough. I am still your father, at least biologically. You can argue otherwise.”

“Emotionally you’re not. You gave that up when you left us. Now you’re back, Mack, so what’s your game? What are you after?”

“Nothing. I’m back because I got tired of running, because it was wrong to run and I want you to hear me say that I was wrong. I made a mistake, Margot, a terrible mistake, and I apologize. I can’t make up for the past three years but at least I can be around for the next three, the next five, the next ten. I’m back because I heard that Lisa is sick and I’m worried about you and Helen. I don’t expect you to welcome me with hugs and open arms, but give me some time and I’ll prove myself.”

Her stiff lip began to quiver and her cold eyes were moist again. She gave it a moment and it passed. “You’re moving back?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing right now, but, no, I’m not coming back to Clanton.”

“So when Mom dies where do we go? Foster care? Wards of the state? How about a nice orphanage?”

Mack adored this kid. She was quick and tough and had probably been through hell and back because of him. Instead of an emotional reunion, she had Mack pinned to the ropes and was flailing away.

“What about the Bunnings?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes in mock disbelief and shook her head. “Oh, I suppose that’s in the grand plan. As you remember, Hermie has the world under his thumb and is the supreme ruler. Since we have no place else to go, it’s a given that we’ll move into the big house and play by his rules.”

“Hermie?”

“That’s what I call him, behind his back, of course. Helen won’t do it. She’s still the perfect one and coos ‘Papa’ at him.”

There was a long pause as Mack savored the nickname “Hermie” and wished he’d had the guts to have been more disrespectful to his ex-father-in-law.

“I asked you about Helen,” he said.

“Oh, she’s okay. She’s sixteen and about as mature as a ten-year-old. She starts each day with a good cry because her mother is sick and then spends most of her time wallowing in the misery. You speak differently.”

“I ironed out the accent, part of the disguise.”

“Sounds phony.”

“Thanks.”

She reached for her purse and said, “Mind if I smoke?” It wasn’t a question. She deftly flicked out a cigarette, one of those long liberated ones, and lit it with a lighter in a motion so smooth that Mack knew she’d had plenty of practice.

“When did you start smoking?”

“A year or so ago. When did you start smoking?”

“When I was fifteen. Quit after law school.”