Night Road(98)

Daddy kept driving. A few minutes later, he turned into their driveway and parked.

“You believe me about the ostrich lady, don’t you? She says she—”

“Enough, Gracie. No pretending tonight, okay? Daddy’s had a tough day.”

“I wasn’t pretending,” Grace said, stung by the accusation. She dragged her blanket off the seat beside her and wrapped it around her neck. Her daddy was in one of those moods where he wasn’t listening to her; even when he looked at her, she got the feeling he wasn’t paying attention. Like he was seeing someone else in his head. And he looked sad.

Grace had grown up around sad. She knew it was best to stay quiet and cuddle when he was like this. But she’d been quiet all day, and she was desperate to talk to someone. To him.

In the house, Grace went right to the fridge and pulled out the heavy casserole Nana had made. She worked really hard not to drop it. “This goes in the oven, Daddy,” she said, holding it out proudly.

He took it from her and put it in the oven. “I’m going to go take a shower. I’ll put a DVD in for you.”

She started to say she didn’t want to watch a movie, but he was already turning away, going into the living room.

She climbed up onto the sofa with her blanket and sucked her thumb. No one was paying any attention to her, anyway. It seemed like Daddy took the longest shower in the world, and, when he was done and walking around in his baggy sweat pants, with his wet hair dripping onto the red USC T-shirt, she followed him around, talking about anything she could think of.

“On the way to the hospital, I got to sit in the front of Papa’s car. We followed the am’blance. And he let me drive … just onto the ferry. I went really slow. I’m a good driver. I saw a killer whale eat a seal. It was gross.”

Nothing made him pay attention. He hardly even looked at her, and his face just got sadder and sadder, so much that Grace started to feel sad herself. Lonely.

By the time he put her into her jammies and tucked her into bed, she felt like crying.

Dad curled up alongside her. “I’m sorry if I’ve been weird tonight, Princess. Being in the hospital reminded me of my sister.”

“Mia,” she said solemnly, showing off that she remembered the name they hardly ever said aloud. “I bet you hate hospitals.”

“I wouldn’t be much of a doctor if that were true.” He smiled down at her. “Besides, I got you in a hospital.”

Grace snuggled against him. This was one of her favorite stories. “What did I look like?”

“You were a perfect little princess. Your eyes were sort of brownish-blue then. You hardly even cried.”

“And my mommy was there?”

“She named you Grace.”

“And you named me after your sister. Then you took me home.”

“I loved you from the very first second.”

“I know, but how come—”

“Enough, Gracie,” he said, reaching over for the book on the nightstand. “Daddy’s had a hard day. How about if I read more of The Secret Garden to you?”

“But don’t you want to hear about my new friend?”

“The movie star who ate an ostrich and rides a magic bike?”

“She might not really be a movie star. Maybe she’s a spy who—”

“Enough, Gracie,” he said, opening the book. “Now, where were we?”

He knew, though; he always knew. Grace smiled sleepily and murmured, “Colin is better.”

“Oh. Yeah,” Daddy said, turning to the right page and starting to read. “One of the strange things about living in the world is that it is only now and then one is quite sure one is going to live forever and ever…”

Grace popped her thumb into her mouth and listened to the music of her daddy’s voice.

*

“They yell at her, Scot. And she’s always alone. No one bothers to come out and play with her. Her only friend seems to be invisible.”

“My son’s imaginary friend is a duck. What does that say about him, I wonder?”

“This is serious,” Lexi said. She had spent endless hours wrestling with her own emotions, and no matter how often or how forcefully she told herself that Grace was better off without an ex-con for a mother, she couldn’t trample the new feeling that she’d been wrong to abandon her daughter. It was like opening the door on a tornado—there was no stopping the damage that would be done inside, and no closing the door again.

Abandon. The word ate through Lexi’s best intentions and stripped her bare. In all her attempts to be unlike her own mother, had she done the same thing? And how was it that she’d never asked herself this question before?

“You’re right,” Scot said, pushing back his chair. The metal wheels screeched on the Pergo flooring. “It’s very serious. Why don’t you sit down? You’re moving like an egg beater.”

She did as he asked and sat down.

“Talk to me, Lexi.”

She took a deep breath. “Giving Grace up was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” Her voice dropped; it was difficult to say the words, even after all her therapy. “The only thing that kept me going was this image of what her life would be like. I saw pink dresses and birthday parties with ponies and bedtime stories and family Christmas dinners. I saw a little girl who grew up knowing she was loved, knowing where she belonged.”