Into the Storm (Signal Bend #3)(58)
When the waitress brought the check and Show was rifling through bills in his wallet—Iris reached out and grabbed the chain, and he remembered that she had often done that—Show asked, “Is there anything you really, really want for Christmas but don’t think you can have?”
Iris nodded right away. Rose looked at him suspiciously.
Show leaned toward Iris. “What is it, baby flower, and why don’t you think you can have it?”
“At the toy store. It’s a Barbie House. Mom says it’s too big and expensive.”
“Did you ask Santa?” Rosie made a disgusted noise at that.
Iris rolled her eyes. “Daddy. There’s no Santa. Duh!” That was news to Show. He wondered when that had happened.
He turned to Rosie. “Rosie—er—Rose?”
She shook her head.
Frustrated, Show sighed. He reached across the table and took her hand, which was lying limply near her half-full plate. Glaring at him, she tried to snatch it back, but he held. “Come on, girl. Come on,” he murmured.
She blinked rapidly, and Show realized she was on the verge of tears. Rosie had always been quick to tears, but she was trying hard to hold these back. He didn’t want her to be embarrassed, but he didn’t know what to do. So he was still, his hand clasping hers. Then he felt her slender fingers wrap around his thumb.
“I want you and Daisy and our house and my old friends.”
“Ah, Rosie. I’m so sorry, flower.” He kissed Iris on the cheek, then got up, keeping hold of Rosie’s hand, and sat down in the other side of the booth with her. He pulled her close.
“Don’t, Daddy. Please!” She pushed at his chest, trying to free herself, but he held tight, and then, after more struggle, she relaxed completely, and he felt her shoulders shake as she cried.
Iris looked on, suddenly somber. “She gets sad a lot. She cries at night.”
Rosie turned on her sister, “Iris! Shut up, barf face!”
“What? You said not to tell Momma. And you’re not supposed to call me that.”
Show took his older daughter’s chin in his hand. “I love you, Rose. I’m sorry that everything got so bad. I’m sorry your life is so different. And God, I’m sorry we don’t have Daze with us. But you have me. I know I can’t be around much. But you will always have me. As long as I draw breath on this earth, you cannot lose me.” He looked at Iris and winked at her. “You both have me.”
Turning back to Rose, he said, “I’m gonna talk to your mom, and I’m gonna come down and see you both as much as I can. And you call me whenever you want. You have me.”
She sniffled and studied him for a long time. Then she nodded. “That’s all I want, then.” The corner of her mouth lifted in a shy little grin. “But I did like those boots I was looking at before.”
He laughed and hugged her hard. “Let me text your mom, make sure she’s okay with those boots”—he looked over at Iris again—“and that Barbie thing, and then let’s finish up our shopping and get you back.”
He left a 100% tip, in honor of the holiday and the brilliant success of the meal, and he texted Holly when they were back in the mall. The ellipses indicating that she was writing a return text lingered for a very long time, but then he got one word back. Fine.
He was sure it was a chick “fine,” but he did not give a good goddamn.
oOo
Though the forecast had called for no worse weather than clouds, when they got back to the truck, the sky was fat with impending snow. Shit. He checked the weather, and they were still saying only an inch or two, and not until evening, so he got his kutte and a tarp and some bungees out of the truck box and secured the girls’ purchases and gifts. Putting his kutte on the back of the seat again, he made sure the girls were buckled up tight and headed back to Holly’s.
He got them home without incident, the sky still no more than threatening. Holly was civil enough, rolling her eyes at what he’d bought them, but being sufficiently gracious. She even pulled him back to her own bedroom to talk in privacy, and she agreed that he could come down once a month. She wouldn’t agree to overnights, but she said “not yet.”
He took the deal. She held out her hand and they shook on it. While he held her hand, he bent down and kissed her cheek. She flinched as if he’d gone in to slap her, but he didn’t regret his gesture. They had been married a long time. They’d loved each other once.
Both girls hugged him hard and cried, but he was able to tell them he’d see them in a few weeks. They stood in the breezeway and watched him pull away. He waited until they were out of sight, and then he wiped his eyes.
He’d intended to spend the night in the motel and head back first thing, but now he was worried that the weather would turn even worse, and he’d be trapped in this crappy town, in a cheap motel, alone on Christmas, leaving Shannon also alone on Christmas. Breaking his word. So he decided to drive through, hoping to beat the storm. If he really moved, and avoided traffic, there was a chance he could be back before midnight. His gear was already in the truck box; he didn’t like to leave his shit lying around cheap-ass motels. So he put some George Strait on the stereo, pulled onto the interstate, and put the hammer down. Home.
oOo
Traffic was light, but the weather went nasty about halfway into the drive, when the darkness was complete. He was driving into the storm, not away from it. He’d reduced his speed and turned off the stereo, focusing keenly on the road. He was committed now. He was going home. He was having Christmas with Shannon. With the woman he…loved. He did. He loved her. In the back of his head he’d known it for awhile, he thought. Too soon for him to say it—definitely too soon for her to hear it, he knew—but it was true.