Until There Was You(115)

Liam, suddenly aware that his mouth was open, closed it. “Oh, so guess what? I saw Posey, right? At Mr. White’s house. He was doing her hair, too, because she’s, like, a chaperone. And listen to this. When she went to her prom, some creep told her she looked like a bag of bones, and she got totally dumped and had to walk home! In the rain. How’s that for nice, huh? I’d totally slap that guy. I’d give him a knee to the crotch, that’s what I’d do.”

Bag of bones? That phrase sounded…familiar. Those words…they meant something to him.

His daughter was looking at him in the mirror, waiting for a response. “Knee to the crotch. That’s my girl.”

“Do you like her, Dad? I got a vibe between the two of you the other night. After the game?”

Liam inhaled sharply. “Uh…yes. I do.”

“Are you guys dating?”

“Well…no.” He swallowed. Now or never. “Nicole, I thought you wanted it to be just the two of us. Remember?”

She frowned. “Oh, that! When you asked if I wanted to live with Grandma and Grandpa? Dad, come on. I was totally PMSing that day. You can have a girlfriend. As long as she’s cool and doesn’t go all Cruella De Vil on me. And don’t even think about popping out triplets before I leave for college, okay, because I am so not the diaper-changing type.”

Once again, Liam found his mouth was hanging open. “Oh.”

She patted his hand. “Get a life, Dad. Do more than sit around and worry about me, okay? Posey’s nice. Anyway, don’t you love my hair? I wish I could do this myself. Mr. White is so awesome. I wish he could be my teacher for every subject. They’re adopting a baby. Isn’t that cool?”

The doorbell rang.

“Oh, my gosh! That’s Tanner! Daddy! Go get the door! Go, go! Tell him I’m not ready.” With that, she shoved him out of the room.

Mom always said I should marry a guy like you.

But those weren’t the only words ringing in his brain.

Bag of bones.

Memory was dawning, the thick fog lifting over what was not a proud moment.

Nothing but a bag of bones.

But first things first. He had fatherly things to do. He opened the door, and there was Tanner Talcott, wearing a tuxedo, corsage box in hand.

Liam had been working at the garage before coming home this evening. He was dressed like the thug he’d once been—black motorcycle jacket, black leather boots, faded jeans, Orange County Motors T-shirt. Hadn’t shaved today, or yesterday, now that he thought about it. He was a good three inches taller than young Tanner, and probably forty pounds heavier. He stepped a little closer to his daughter’s date. Tanner took a half step back. Good.

“Ground rules, Tanner,” he growled. Tanner paled. More good. “No alcohol. No smoking. No drugs. No looking at other girls. You can dance with my daughter. Your hands will avoid the danger zones, which are here, here and here.” Liam gestured to his chest, groin and ass. “You can kiss her. Once. At 10:59 p.m. tonight, when you’ll be standing here once again. I will be on the other side of this door, waiting for her. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Tanner whispered.

“I was your age once, too,” Liam said.

“I’m aware of that, sir.”

“I know what you think about.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You can think it. You can’t do it.”

“Okay.”

“I have many sharp tools in my garage.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’re clear, then?”

“Very, sir.”

“Good!” Liam smiled, then grabbed the boy by the shoulder and dragged him in. “Nicole! Your date’s here.”

FORTY-FIVE MINUTES later, when the pictures had been taken and Nicole had kissed her dad and Tanner had shaken his hand and Liam had managed to let his child go, he got on his bike and headed across the bridge into Maine. When he pulled up in front of the Tate residence, he gunned his motor before shutting it off. Let them know he was loaded for bear, in other words.

George opened the door, frowning. “Liam. Is Nicole all right?”

“She’s fine. I’d like to speak with you and Louise both, please.”

“Well, we’re having a dinner party. It’ll have to wait.”

“Now, George.” Liam folded his arms across his chest. “Or I can come in and say it in front of your guests, if you’d rather.”

His father-in-law frowned. “Fine. Wait here.” He returned a long minute later with Louise.

“Liam,” she said, her lips narrowing. “What is so important that it can’t wait?”

“My daughter is,” he said, staring at them both. “I have something to say. I know you didn’t approve of me following Emma to California. I wouldn’t approve of that, either, now that I’m a father. And I know you weren’t happy when she got pregnant, and I know you told her to think about an abortion, and I know you told her to get me to sign away my paternal rights. And I know you told her not to marry me, and I know you probably told her to divorce me once we were married.”

Louise’s eyebrows rose, as if to say So?

“But you should know that I loved your daughter from the day I first saw her to the minute she died. I never stopped. I held her when she cried, I carried her to the bathroom when she was sick, I washed the sheets and made her soup and gave her morphine when the pain got too bad.”