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“Yeah.” She liked it that way.
“The story was still the best, huh?”
What was even better was that her mom remembered. And was talking like those days were important to her, too. “Yeah.”
“Well, that’s how Don and his friend James are. They’re kind of rough-looking on the outside sometimes, but inside they’re the best.”
Oh. Well, she hadn’t looked at the puppy book in a long time. It was probably covered up with her puke and stuff.
“He has yellow teeth.” The hand running through her hair stopped.
“Coffee stained is all. Don’s a truck driver and has to stay awake all night sometimes.”
“Daddy drinks coffee.”
Her mother didn’t say anything. She never seemed to listen when Kelsey mentioned Daddy, but Kelsey kept trying anyway. Her mom put both arms around her, pulling her close and Kelsey forgot all about her dad. If only she could come home from school every day and have her mom there waiting with a hug—the way Josie’s mom waited for them.
“James has a daughter your age,” her mom said, and Kelsey didn’t feel as good. If all Mom was going to talk about was those men, then Kelsey shouldn’t have come. Didn’t she realize that Kelsey’d be grounded for a year if she was caught here? Daddy thought she was at Josie’s house, which she would be in time for him to come pick her up.
“Last month, James stayed up all night sewing trim on a dance costume his daughter needed for a competition she was in.”
Kelsey nodded. A dad who sewed. That was cool. But one who looked all dirty and long-haired and tattooed like James?
She wanted to ask if his daughter had tattoos, too, but she was afraid that Mom would switch back to being cranky again. Even as old as Kelsey was now, that part of her mom still scared her.
CHAPTER TWO
“HI, MS. FOSTER, come on in. Daddy said you were coming. Can we do some more of that yarn stuff like we did last time?”
Meredith grinned at the petite little girl with long, straight dark hair. Her face was often solemn, but right now she was smiling profusely. “Hi, Kelse,” Meredith said, stepping through Mark Shepherd’s front door, a denim bag over her shoulder. “Yes, I brought plastic canvas and yarn. I thought we’d make a butterfly bank for your room—how’s that sound?”
“Cool! I got that new comforter, too,” the child said, closing and locking the door before skipping ahead in front of Meredith. “You know the purple and pink one with butterflies?”
“I remember,” Meredith said, completely comfortable with Kelsey. If only her father were already gone and Meredith wouldn’t have to suffer through even a few minutes in his company.
“You want to see it?”
Did she want to run the risk of running into Mark in the bedroom hallway?
“I do, but can I put this down first?” She slid her bag down her arm.
“Oh.” Kelsey’s expression was momentarily blank as she glanced at the bag. “Sure. I forgot. Sorry.”
“No need to apologize, honey.” Even before she’d had Kelsey in class the year before, Meredith had adored this child. She was sensitive and aware and far more responsible than most kids her age. Meredith missed seeing her every day.
Heading for the kitchen where they’d sit at the table and work on their project with the little TV mounted beneath a cupboard playing one of the Doris Day movies she’d brought, Meredith set her bag down and waited. Once Mark was on his way, the tension would be gone.
“I love your jeans,” Kelsey said, plopping onto one of the wooden kitchen chairs. “I wanted some with beads like that, only instead of flowers they had butterflies, but Daddy said all that stuff would come off in the wash anyway.”
Oh, great. She was already in the doghouse with this man and now she either had to lie and say that the jeans fell apart when she washed them, or she would have to tell his daughter he was wrong about that. She bent to pet the calico cat that was weaving itself in and out between her legs.
“Are you and Daddy fighting again?” Kelsey’s pert nose wrinkled as she glanced over at Meredith.
“Why would you ask that?”
“You are, aren’t you?” Kelsey frowned. “He said Susan asked you to come over tonight and usually he asks, and since he sees you at school and all, it’s not like he couldn’t get ahold of you. I figured that meant you were fighting again.”
As the cat wandered off to investigate something more interesting, Meredith dropped down opposite Kelsey, hating the tightness she was feeling just beneath her rib cage. It meant she wasn’t relaxed—and it was uncomfortable. “Your father and I don’t fight.”
“Well, you don’t maybe. I don’t think you’d ever have a fight with anyone. But he sure gets mad at you.”
So much for keeping things between teacher and principal.
“Do the other kids at school know that, or are you extra smart?”
“I think it’s just me, ’cause I live with him,” Kelsey said, her adult-sounding assurances so touching.
“Well…” Meredith took a deep breath and sent up a quick request for assistance, please. “Sometimes I get a little carried away when I try to help, and your dad doesn’t want me to lose my job.”
“How could you? He’s your boss.”
“Yes, but the school board is his boss and if they told him to fire me, he’d have to do it.”
“Are they going to tell him that?”
“No, sweetie, they aren’t,” Meredith said, with a cheerful smile, crossing her fingers. “Your dad just worries a lot sometimes.”
“I do not worry.”
Swinging around, Meredith stood up and saw Mark in the doorway behind her. His snug-fitting jeans and long-sleeved white shirt distracted her for a moment—but only for a moment.
“You worry all the time,” she told him. “About everything.”
“I get concerned, with legitimate cause. I do not worry.” He said the words firmly, with a completely straight face.
Meredith burst out laughing. Kelsey’s worried stare settled on her father, until Mark slowly smiled.
Thank goodness. He was finished being angry with her. This time.
“I’m out of here, pumpkin,” he said, resting his hand on his daughter’s head.
She nodded.
“Bedtime is ten tonight, since Meredith is here and it’s not a school night.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t answer the…”
“Door.” Kelsey turned around to grin at her father. “We know the rules, Daddy,” she said with only a hint of condescension.
“Then give me a hug so I can get lost, as you two are obviously eager to have me do.”
Meredith’s throat grew tight as she watched Kelsey jump up and throw her arms around her father’s trim waist. Mark held on for a long moment and then let her go, glancing over at Meredith.
“I don’t know how late I’ll be.”
She didn’t want to think about why—it was kind of embarrassing—but at the same time she was glad to know that Susan was intimately involved. Her best friend was slowly but surely coming back to life.
“Tell Suze I said hi and I love her.”
With a nod, Mark was gone.
An hour later, the muscles beneath Meredith’s rib cage still had not relaxed.
“You feeling okay?” she asked Kelsey. Tongue peeping out one side of her mouth, the girl was intent on following the pattern of squares and colors that Meredith had placed on the table in front of her.
“Fine,” Kelsey said, her needle going through the plastic canvas with quiet deliberation.
Meredith had assumed that as soon as Mark left she’d relax. She’d been fine before she arrived. So what was making her tense? Her own internal radar? Someone else’s?
The fact that Mark and Susan were doing what adults do when they’re alone together—while she spent her Friday evening stitching butterflies with a fourth grader?
“You and Josie getting along okay?” The girls might be suffering from too much togetherness, now that Mark had agreed to let Kelsey go to Josie’s every day after school in exchange for summer care for Kelsey’s friend.
“Yep. We’re best friends now.”
Meredith’s yarn knotted. She hated it when that happened. “You used too long a piece,” Kelsey said, glancing over and then looking back at her own work.
“I know. I make a better teacher than a doer.” She dropped the needle and canvas on the table. “You want a snack?”
“Ice cream?”
“Of course. What weird flavors did your dad buy this week?”
“Butterfinger and rocky road.”
Grabbing three bowls and two spoons, Meredith pulled open the drawer where Mark kept his ice cream scoop. “So what’ll it be for you, young lady?” she asked, scooping a bit of vanilla into the first bowl for Gilda, the cat, who was purring at Meredith’s ankle.
“What are you having?” Kelsey asked without looking up.
“I guess I’ll try Butterfinger. I’ve never had it before.”
“Then that’s what I’ll have, too.”
“DO YOU THINK judging a book by its cover is the same as knowing about people?”
It was five minutes to ten and Meredith was tucking Kelsey into her white-painted canopy bed, pulling up the new comforter. Though it’d been in the fifties all week, the temperature was supposed to drop down to near freezing that night.
“What do you mean?” Meredith asked, sitting on the side of the bed, careful not to disturb Gilda, who’d already curled up and was sleeping soundly. She tried to ignore the tightness in her stomach—too much ice cream, she told herself.
“If a book looks bad that doesn’t mean the story inside is bad. So if people look bad, should we still think of them as good?”
Meredith forced herself to focus carefully on the nine-year-old’s questions and ignore the increasing pain in her gut.
“That’s not a yes or no question, sweetie,” she said. “No, you shouldn’t judge people just by how they look, but people put out messages about themselves—messages you need to learn to read as you go out into the world and deal with strangers.” The words rolled off her tongue without conscious thought.
Kelsey nodded, but her eyes were full of confusion.
“Say, for instance, you see someone who has wild clothes on. That wouldn’t mean that the person doesn’t have a good heart. It might just mean that he or she has artistic taste.”
“What if they have tattoos?”
A few years ago the question might instantly have been a cause for concern. “Lots of people have tattoos these days,” Meredith replied. “It’s kind of the in thing for college students, and lots of moms are getting little ones on their ankles and other places. And you’ve seen girls at the mall with them on their lower backs, haven’t you?”
The girl nodded, her hair falling around her shoulders.
“It’s more accepted now, so people are changing their opinions about tattoos and a lot of quite regular people are getting them.”
“They might be good people?”
“Right.”
“And say, maybe, someone was greasy and dirty looking… It could be that he was just working in the garage, huh?”
“Could be. But unless you know that he was in a garage, I’d be careful there. Someone who doesn’t have good hygiene might be wonderful inside, but it might also be a sign that he or she is down on his luck—which could make him desperate. Or it might mean he has no respect for the human body, in which case you don’t want to go anywhere near him.”
Kelsey’s features relaxed, but Meredith’s stomach didn’t.
“Okay?” Meredith asked.
Kelsey nodded, sliding down until the covers were up to her chin.
“You have some stranger bothering you?” Meredith had to ask.
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I just heard someone talking about judging people and it didn’t really make sense to me, is all.”
Thank God for that. Kelsey Shepherd had already been through enough in her young life. And so had her dad.
AT TEN AFTER TWELVE Meredith heard Mark’s automatic garage door start to open. She yanked on her ankle-length hikers, tied the laces and grabbed her bag, which was packed and waiting. And then she reached for the remote control and turned off the TV.
“Hi,” Mark said, coming in and dropping his keys on the brass plate on the counter.
“Hi.” Meredith looked at the keys rather than at Mark. If his hair was mussed or he had that satisfied look in his eyes, she’d die of embarrassment.
