D, My Name Is Danita

by Norma Fox Mazer

  “I think you just have to give him time, D.T.”

  “Time for what?”

  “To sort of get used to the idea.”

  “He doesn’t like the idea of having a son?”

  “I don’t think that’s it, exactly.”

  “It’s the way it looks from here, Dani.”

  “Dani, why don’t horses like pizza?”

  “Is this a quiz, Lizbeth?”

  “No. I’m asking you something. Why don’t horses like pizza? They like everything else people like. They like to eat. They like to work. They like to play. They like to sleep. They like to kiss. So why wouldn’t they like pizza?”

  “Okay, I bite. Why?”

  “It’s not a quiz, it’s not a riddle. It’s a question.”

  “Sorry, I don’t know the answer.”

  “Stop laughing!”

  “Who’s laughing?”

  “You are, Daddy’s pet! I hate you. I wish I had another sister.”

  “How about a brother?”

  “What?”

  “Nothing, forget it. My mouth just slipped.”

  “Laredo? Hi! Your phone’s been busy for hours.”

  “I was talking to Geo. That boy can talk!”

  “He’s cute, he’s nice.”

  “I bet you’re sorry I saw him first.”

  “Actually, I saw him first, Laredo. If you want to be literal about it.”

  “Are you still cranky because of feeling rejected by Jon?”

  “I never even think about Jon Haberle.”

  “Come on, tell the truth.”

  “Well … I do stare every time I see him. Let’s not talk about him. How’s the big Geo romance going?”

  “Good. In fact, great! We’re doing it over the phone.”

  “You’re doing what over the phone?”

  “Don’t get excited. Smooching. That’s my mother’s word for kissing. Isn’t that a giggle?”

  “You’re kissing over the phone?”

  “It’s almost as good as the real thing. You ought to try it. Call Jon—”

  “Don’t be bizarre!”

  “Use your imagination, Dani. Call him, pretend you’re someone else and smooch him fast before he can get off.”

  “Okay, I’ll call him and say I’m you.”

  “Dad, is it okay if Laredo knows about D.T.?”

  “No, it’s not okay.”

  “Oh. Well, Dad … uh … she knows.”

  “You told her? Why did you do that? Our business with D.T. is private, it’s personal, it’s family business, it’s not for the consumption of the public.”

  “Laredo isn’t the public, she’s my best friend. Anyway, she thinks it’s great that I have a brother.”

  “It’s always easy for someone outside to comment. Dani, your mother doesn’t even know.”

  “When are you going to tell her?”

  “It’s going to be a shock to her. She never even heard of Donna Goodman. Jody and I—well, you know what we say every anniversary. I was her first—”

  “—very first love, and she was yours. That’s what you both always say when you do your toast to each other.”

  “When I met your mother, the first time I saw her—”

  “Dad, all the times I’ve heard you say that—talk about being each other’s first loves—Dad—Dad.… It wasn’t true.”

  “Yes, it was, Dani.”

  “What about D.T.’s mother? Donna Goodman?”

  “That was different. We were so young. But your mother—I don’t know how to tell her about this. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how she’s going to react.”

  “Dani, can I come in?”

  “Come in, Lizbeth. Come on, don’t hang on the door.”

  “I have a problem.”

  “Is it a horse problem? I don’t think I can help you with horse problems.”

  “This is a problem with you.”

  “Uh-oh. What is it?”

  “You’re always talking to Daddy these days! Talk, talk, talk. You take a walk and talk. You go in his study and talk. Talk, talk, talk. You go in the backyard and talk.”

  “Lizbeth … it has nothing to do with you. We’re not talking about you.”

  “I don’t care!”

  “Lizbeth, I have things to talk over with Dad, so—”

  “I have things to talk over with Daddy!”

  “Well, talk to him, then.”

  “He won’t have time for me. He talks to you always. Talk, talk, talk! No time for me! That’s the problem.”

  “Dad … I’ve been thinking. Not telling Mom anything about D.T. and his mom feels sort of like lying to her, it feels bad to me.”

  “I’m not lying, Dani. I’m just not saying anything yet.”

  “You are going to tell her, though, aren’t you?”

  “In time. I need time.”

  “What about D.T.? It’s been three weeks, Dad. He’s waiting.”

  “Dani, please, keep your voice down. Your mother’s in the next room.”

  “The door’s shut.”

  “Nevertheless, keep it down.”

  “Okay … Is that better? Dad, don’t you want a son?”

  “What kind of question is that? It’s not like going to the grocery store for a head of lettuce. I have you. I have Lizbeth. Did you ever hear me say I wanted sons instead of daughters? I love you two, I love you girls. I never wanted something else—”

  “Dad, I didn’t mean that you wanted a son instead of me or Lizbeth. Can’t we just add D.T. to our family?”

  “Dad, are you busy?”

  “I am. Could you try not to call me at work unless it’s really important?”

  “I think this is important. Last night when we were talking, I forgot to tell you something. Lizbeth’s feeling really jealous and upset. She’s jealous of you and me. She says you’re always talking to me. She feels like it’s a big problem for her.”

  “Is that what she said?”

  “She came right out with it. Dad, I think you should pay her some extra attention or something. Will you do it, Dad?”

  “I will.”

  “Dad, will you definitely … you won’t forget, will you?”

  “Since when did I ever say I’d do something, Dani, and then not carry through?”

  “Never before, Dad, but—”

  “But what?”

  “Well, lately—”

  “Yes? Lately, what?”

  “Lately, well, you know … It’s like you not telling Mom—”

  “All right, Dani, that’s enough. I’ll do that in my own good time.”

  “And Lizbeth?”

  “What is this, an interrogation? Enough, Dani!”

  Chapter 28

  Saturday afternoon, Laredo and I were heading for the bus stop after spending the afternoon shopping, getting rid of the last of her money from working at Ice Dreams. It was too hot for the middle of October. Everyone was walking around in shirtsleeves and summer dresses.

  I’d just pulled off my sweater when I saw a guy coming out the front door of the Y, wearing cutoffs and no shirt.

  “Is that your brother?” Laredo said.

  I squinched up my eyes to see better. She was right. D.T. was coming down the walk toward us. I started to wave, but all at once I didn’t want him to see me—and I didn’t want to see him. What could I say to him? Sorry, D.T., sorry! I still don’t have any good news to give you.

  He came toward us. “Dani!”

  “Hi, D.T.,” I said uncomfortably. “Not working today?”

  He shook his head. “Hi, do I know you?” he said to Laredo.

  She flashed her best smile. “I’m Laredo. My rude girlfriend forgot to introduce us. I know who you are, though. Remember when I came into Star to make a video for my little brother in Texas?”

  “I remember.” He rubbed his bare chest. “That was the first day Dani and I talked.” He looked at our packages. “Let me guess. You girls have been shopping.”

 
“You are so perceptive,” Laredo flirted. “How is it living in the Y?”

  “Not too homey; but it’s just for a while. Did your brother like the video?”

  Laredo nodded. “My stepmother made a video of him for me. I’m dying to see him in person. I may be going out there over Christmas vacation.”

  “You like your brother?” D.T. asked.

  “I adore him,” Laredo said. “Even though I’ve never met him.”

  D.T. laughed. “That’s the way I feel about my little sister.”

  “Lizbeth,” Laredo said, with a knowing look. “You’ve got a treat in store for you with her.”

  “She’s riding today,” I said. “She and her girlfriend are both at the stables.”

  “She’s a super rider,” Laredo boasted, as if Lizbeth were her sister. “You ought to see her in her riding getup, on that big horse, D.T. She’s smashing.”

  “At least I won’t have to go all the way to Texas to meet her. Right, Dani? Just the other side of town.” He was looking at me hopefully.

  “I wish I could tell you something,” I mumbled.

  “Everything’s still the same, then?” he said. “Nothing’s happening?”

  “Well … Dad’s thinking about things.” I remembered Dad saying In my own good time.… When was that going to be?

  The bus was coming then, and we had to go. I was glad. We said good-bye and crossed the street. “D.T.’s really nice,” Laredo said as we sat down in back.

  “I know.”

  “Isn’t it amazing to get a brother—just like that? Isn’t it like getting a present you never expected?”

  “I still really don’t know him. I’ve only talked to him a few times.”

  “If he was my brother, I’d talk to him every day!”

  “I can’t … because of my mother.”

  “When is your father going to tell her? How long is he going to wait?”

  “I don’t know! Drop the subject, please.” It made me uncomfortable to criticize my father. It made me uncomfortable to think I knew something my mother didn’t. And it made me really uncomfortable to think of D.T. waiting … and waiting.…

  When we walked into the house, the phone was ringing. “I bet it’s Mom,” I said, “checking up on me. I told her I’d be home an hour ago.”

  I picked up the receiver. “Dani?” my mother said. “I’ve been calling and calling.”

  “Mom, sorry. We took longer than we thought—”

  “Never mind that,” she said. “Something’s happened. Lizbeth didn’t come back from her trail ride.”

  Chapter 29

  The headline in the next day’s paper read, TWO GIRLS LOST IN FOREST. The story was on the front page of the Sunday paper.

  The entire sheriff’s department and dozens of volunteers tramped the woods with searchlights for hours Saturday night looking for Lizbeth Merritt and Kirstie Vandaam, two young girls who became lost in Meimberg Memorial Forest while horseback riding earlier that day.

  Sheriff Lynell G. Packwood said that over the years, numerous people have been lost in the forest. In 1979, Will R. Glover, a forty-nine-year-old man, died of exposure after only two days in the forest.

  Sheriff Packwood directed the search for the girls from the home of Leila Sandier-Frost, the owner of Our Horse Farm, where the two girls often rent horses for trail rides. Besides volunteer searchers, Sheriff Pack-wood had the services of the city police department helicopter, which is equipped with a high-intensity searchlight and a trained crew.

  Searchers included Lizbeth Merritt’s parents and her sister, Danita Merritt. At ten minutes past one o’clock in the morning, close to the point when the sheriff was considering calling off the search for the night, shouts from the direction of the forest were heard by people holding vigil at the stable. Moments later, one of the search parties emerged with the girls.

  A cheer went up from the waiting crowd. Though both girls said they were “starved,” they appeared alert and cheerful as they were reunited with their families. Lizbeth and Kirstie are both accomplished horsewomen, according to Mrs. Sandler-Frost, and have ridden often on the well-marked trails in the forest with no problems. “We took a wrong turn,” said Kirstie Vandaam, “and lost the way.”

  As dusk fell, the girls said, they dismounted and tried to let their horses lead them out. “Then it got dark, and we suddenly lost each other,” said Lizbeth Merritt. “That was the scariest time, when I didn’t know where Kirstie was.”

  After that, the girls decided to stay in one place. Once, they saw the helicopter going over. “We screamed and waved,” Kirstie reported. “We saw the white light going away. I cried. I thought everybody thought we were dead and they wouldn’t look for us anymore. But Lizbeth said we just had to wait.”

  And wait they did until they heard voices. Lizbeth Merritt called, “Hello, who are you?” She went on to explain, “When they said they were looking for us, we ran up and hugged everybody.”

  The newspaper carried pictures of Kirstie in her mom’s arms and Lizbeth being hugged by Mom and Dad. There was a third picture, too, captioned, “Lizbeth Merritt’s two sisters celebrate her safe return.” It was a picture of Laredo and me, Laredo with her hair waving in the breeze, and me with my glasses on crooked.

  “Laredo’s not my sister,” Lizbeth said. “They made a mistake in my story. Mommy, I’m calling them up and telling them.”

  “Are you?” Mom laughed. “Don’t worry about it. You’re here with us, that’s what matters.”

  “Anyway, Laredo’s sort of like a sister to you,” I said. “A half sister or a quarter sister.” I looked at Dad. “It would be fun having another sib, wouldn’t it, Lizbeth?”

  “Maybe,” she said, cuddling with Dad. She got all the attention she could have wanted from him that day. He couldn’t stop hugging her and saying, “My baby. You’re safe now, my baby.”

  The first few times, I chimed right in. “You did great, Lizbeth. I’m proud of you.” But then, when Dad kept saying, “My baby,” to her, I thought, Okay, Dad, enough! And I wondered why he wasn’t thinking of another “baby” in his life that he didn’t fuss over at all. Or, rather, another “baby” not in his life. D.T., of course. He was my father’s first baby, wasn’t he?

  We all stayed home Monday, like it was a holiday. It was a holiday. No school for Lizbeth and me. No work for Mom and Dad. Mom said we all deserved a day off. We sat around the house, eating and reading and playing Monopoly, Lizbeth’s favorite game … and answering the phone.

  The phone had been ringing off the hook for her on Sunday, and it went on ringing on Monday. She must have told her story a dozen times, and each time Dad’s eyes reddened and got teary.

  The phone rang. “Oooh, again?” Lizbeth sighed, but she bounced up. “Hello, this is Lizbeth Merritt speaking.… Who? Oh! Mrs. Damson!” She turned and kind of glowed at us. It was her principal.

  “… so then Kirstie and I said to each other we should stay in one place,” she said in her high, little-girl’s voice. “Because I had read this book about somebody being lost and how they went in circles and got really lost and got sick and everything from no water or food.”

  Dad’s eyes teared. “When I think of what could have happened to her,” he said to my mother, “I feel actually sick. Did I tell you, Jody, that I dreamed about it last night?”

  Mom leaned her chin in her hand. She could be brisk or sharp sometimes if you annoyed her. She could be that way with Dad, too, but leaning there, she looked like, well, a girl in love. And I remembered what Dad had said. She was my first true love and I was hers.

  “It was one of those dreams where you can’t believe it didn’t happen. I had to get out of bed and check on Lizzie right away.”

  “She’s okay,” Mom said, looking over at Lizbeth, who was still talking on the phone. “She seems to have taken the whole thing really well.”

  “I know. But it could so easily have been different.”

  “Dad, it wasn’t. Nothing bad hap
pened,” I said.

  “But it could have. That’s what hurts me. That’s what scares me, the idea that we so nearly lost her.”

  “We didn’t nearly lose her, Dad! Lizbeth kept her head, and we found her. She’s right here, and like Mom says, she’s okay.”

  “People have been lost in that forest and never come out, Dani.”

  “Dad,” I said, jumping up. “You’re so upset about Lizbeth, but what about D.T.?” I heard the words coming out of my mouth, and I couldn’t stop them. “What about him, Dad? How about getting upset about him?”

  Chapter 30

  “Who’s D.T.?” Mom said.

  Dad was looking at me as if I’d betrayed him.

  “Dad, I’m sorry—” I stopped myself. Was I sorry? I wanted the truth out. I wanted Mom to know. I wanted things settled!

  “Who’s D.T.?” Mom said again.

  Lizbeth was still talking on the phone. Dad was folding and refolding the newspaper. He looked at me for a long time. Then he glanced over at Lizbeth. Then at me again.

  “I just don’t know how to say this,” he said to Mom. “I’ve been trying to find the right way to say it.”

  Mom watched him attentively.

  “But I guess there is no right way. Remember when we met?”

  “Of course I remember.”

  “Remember how we said to each other we’d never loved anyone else?” Dad was sitting on the couch with one leg drawn up under the other, like the number four. “Well, it was true for me, but not completely. There was a girl in high school … we were in love. Three weeks ago, I found out … I met her son.” He paused. “He’s my son.”

  “Say that again,” Mom said.

  “I found out I had a son.”

  “You found out—” Mom glanced at me.

  “Dani knows about it,” Dad said.

  “Why?” Mom said. “Who was this girl? What was your relationship to her?”

  “It was high school stuff. We were in love … we thought so … and then we broke up.”

  “She didn’t tell you she was pregnant?”

  Dad shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “She didn’t tell you after the baby was born?”

  He shook his head again.

  “You must have heard something. Menands is not that big a place, Daniel!”