Finding Her Dad

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Undeterred, Sierra bounded up and crossed the room, dropping to her knees to reach the ball. Maggie seemed to enjoy watching Sierra fetching.

  Lucy did, too, in between turning the pages of her book. She was laughing when her phone rang, but as soon as she recognized the caller’s voice, she excused herself to Sierra and went outside to talk. On her rear patio, she closed the French door before she said cautiously, “Mom. Hi.”

  “Lucy. Was that Sierra I heard?”

  “Yes.” Lucy’s heart was pounding hard. Her mother, Terry, was allowed a phone call every other Sunday. This was Tuesday evening. “I didn’t expect to hear from you.”

  “I’ve been given a release date.”

  Jon’s face flashed before Lucy’s eyes. She hated the idea of him meeting her mother. Of course Mom couldn’t stay with her, not now that Sierra was here, but he might not approve of her being around at all, corrupting his daughter.

  As if he had any rights, she thought suddenly, furiously. He hadn’t cared what became of his sperm. He was involved in Sierra’s life now only out of a sense of duty. Or maybe he was afraid she and Lucy would go to the press and he’d look bad in the last two months leading up to the election. No matter what, Lucy wasn’t going to let him make her choices for her.

  “When?” she asked, throat tight.

  “The first of October.”

  Her fingers squeezed the phone. “That’s…soon.”

  “Yes.”

  They were both silent for too long. Light spilled through the small panes of the French door onto the dark patio. Lucy could smell the roses and a whiff of lavender, so elusive. A car passed on the street, the growl of the engine deepening and then fading. The moon was barely a sliver.

  “I can go to a halfway house.”

  She ached to say, Yes, that might be best, Mom. How many times had she been waiting when her mother got out of prison? Feeling hope so sharp she could taste it, even as she should have lost any semblance? Too many times. Her mother was an addict who would do anything to feed that addiction. Steal, spread her legs for creepy men, lie, cheat.

  Only then, back in Purdy or whatever correctional institute she was sent to, she got off the drugs and was Lucy’s mother again. She lived with terrible guilt and regret and pain at her own weakness, and Lucy always…not forgave her, but pretended to. Never forgot, but pretended to do that, too.

  But she was tired of pretending, tired of hope. This time she could barely taste it. She wasn’t at all sure she loved her own mother anymore. What she felt was closer to the sense of obligation that Jon probably felt for his newly discovered daughter.

  “Let me see what plans I can make,” she said finally. “Now that I’m licensed as a foster home for Sierra, I doubt I can have you stay here.” She managed a sort of laugh. “Not that the house is big enough for three of us anyway. And I can’t turn my back on Sierra now. I can’t.”

  “I understand, Lucy,” her mother said quietly. “I’d be disappointed in you if you did.”

  “But if I can find you a place to live… Maybe a room for now. I can help you get a job.”

  “Do you suppose the library has any openings? I like working in the library here.”

  The local library was part of the county-wide system, a government entity. Did they hire ex-cons? Lucy couldn’t imagine.

  “I’ll start watching their job postings,” she promised. “There’s a secondhand bookstore in town, too.”

  “All right. Let me know.” She paused. “If you don’t think it’ll work, I can make other plans.”

  Lucy closed her eyes against the longing. Why couldn’t her mom have called and said, I’ve leaned on you too many times, I won’t do it again? But she hadn’t. Despite everything, Lucy thought, She’s been in for a lot of years this time. Maybe she doesn’t feel the craving anymore. Maybe…this time…

  Sure. That was happening.

  But…people did change.

  Her eyes burned as if she was going to cry, but she refused to let herself. “Can you call me next Sunday, Mom?”

  “Of course I can. I love you, Lucy.”

  After a minute Lucy whispered, “I love you, too,” even though that wasn’t quite true. Even though she was pretending, because if she didn’t she wouldn’t have family at all. She would be like Sierra before she’d found her dad.

  Remembering some of the men her mother had been involved with, Lucy almost shuddered as she closed her phone and stood breathing in the scented night air. Her own father had been one of those men. One of those men best left forgotten in the mire of her mother’s past.

  She and Sierra differed here. Because even if Lucy lost her mother, even if she were suddenly alone, she would never, ever want to find her father.

  IF HE DIDN’T HAVE an obligatory luncheon of some kind, Jon usually ate lunch—if he ate it at all—at his desk. Today, in the absence of a commitment, he decided to fire an opening salvo in a different kind of campaign than his electoral one. He couldn’t get Lucy out of his mind, and he was ready to do something about it.

  He stopped at a great lunch place in Kanaskat and carried out two bowls of chili, two sandwiches and drinks, thinking that he was going to look like a fool if he arrived at Lucy’s store to find she wasn’t working today, or had already left for lunch with a friend, or was plain too busy to stop and eat with him.

  But he had to start somewhere, and this seemed less awkward than calling and asking her out. Easier for them both to retreat from if she wasn’t interested.

  He found street parking half a block from her store and entered it carrying the white paper bags containing their lunch. He saw her immediately, behind the counter ringing up a sale. A bell on the door tinkled and she glanced up, her eyes widening when she recognized him.

  “That’ll be $39.29,” she told the customer, an older woman who had a placid mongrel on a leash at her side. As Jon approached, he saw the dog’s big brown eyes fixed hopefully on Lucy, who laughed as she leaned over the counter.

  “I’ve spoiled you, haven’t I? What will it be today? Peanut butter or liver?”

  “He does love those peanut-butter treats,” the owner said. “Who’d have thought? Dogs are carnivores.”

  “Well, think of some of the strange things we eat.” She chose a great big bone-shaped dog treat from a basket on the counter and proffered it. The Lab mix took it with surprising delicacy, then sank to his belly to crunch contentedly.

  Shaking her head, his person said, “You know what else he loves? Carrots. Maybe it’s the crunch.”

  Lucy glanced at Jon and murmured, “I’ll be with you in a minute.” Then she smiled again at the customer. “A friend who grows a huge vegetable garden told me that one year her carrots kept disappearing. Pop, pop, pop, part of the row would be gone. She thought it must be moles, until she saw her dog out there pulling one up, eating it, then going back and pulling up the next. She fenced her garden after that.”

  CHUCKLING, CUSTOMER and dog left the store, the bell on the door ringing again. Lucy closed the cash register drawer.

  “Jon. I didn’t expect you.”

  He couldn’t tell from her expression how she felt about his surprise appearance.

  “Didn’t feel like eating lunch by myself today,” he said, setting the bags on the counter. “I was hoping I’d get you at a slow moment.”

  She looked ruefully around. “Well, you succeeded in that. I even adopted out the pair of cats I had here in the store and the shelter hasn’t brought me new ones yet. It’s you and me.”

  He smiled. “Good.”

  He loved the way color rose in her cheeks. How many women her age blushed so readily? It made him wonder how experienced she was sexually. And that made his body tighten, which was lousy timing.

  Patience, he told himself. Too damned bad that he hadn’t felt patient from the first time he set eyes on Lucy.

  “I did bring a lunch,” she said, then wrinkled her nose. “Yours smells better.”

  “Chili.” He
circled the counter and discovered a pair of stools back there. He sat on one, hooking a heel over the lowest rung and keeping the other foot on the floor. “Sandwiches. You get first dibs. I didn’t know what you’d like.”

  “Picky I’m not.”

  Unlike him, she had to hop to get her butt up on the second stool, after which she tucked both her feet on one of the rungs. He’d have said he liked his women to be tall, but Lucy’s petite stature charmed him, as everything else about her seemed to.

  She unwrapped the first sandwich, said, “This looks yummy,” and took a bite.

  Jon popped the top on one of the cans of soda, then peeled the lid off a bowl of chili.

  No one came into the store, although several people passed on the sidewalk out front. This downtown core had what so many towns had lost: a main street lined with small businesses that seemed, for the most part, to be thriving. In the half block between his car and Barks and Purrs, he’d passed a beauty salon, a bakery, a brokerage firm and a fabric store. A nice mix. Across the street were several antiques stores. Midday on a Wednesday, most of the angled parking was full.

  “Do you have more parking in back?” he asked.

  “Hmm?” She swallowed. “Oh. Yes, only two spots, but regulars know to come in that way, especially if they’re going to be hauling out heavy bags of food or litter. Or if they’re buying something like a cat climber.” She nodded toward several good-size specimens near the front of the store.

  He looked around in appreciation, liking what she’d done in here. The building was old, and the interior walls were exposed brick. The floor was gleaming wood, the planks wide and scarred from the years, which gave them character. Displays of cans and bags of dried cat and dog food sat on shelving units toward the back. Otherwise the layout avoided the symmetry and boredom of grocery-store-style aisles. The effect was mazelike, drawing the customer in, tantalizing with glimpses of cat beds in exotic fabrics, bins of toys, racks of treats and dog sweaters and holistic shampoos, brushes and combs and backpacks for the hiking dog.

  “Halloween costumes?” he said.

  She grinned. “Yep. Just put them out. Last year they sold like hotcakes. And not only for little dogs. Big ones, too. And cats.”

  “Good God.”

  “Yes, I’m pretty sure Rosie would slash me to ribbons if I tried to stuff her into that jack-o’-lantern getup.” She contemplated the display. “Or the angel wings. She wouldn’t like them.”

  Jon hadn’t yet met a cat that would like playing dress-up.

  “Costumes for Christmas are big, too. I have a Santa come in and people bring their pets to sit on Santa’s lap for a photo. The proceeds go to various shelters. I choose a different one every year.” He nodded.

  “My profit—” Lucy sounded smug “—comes from the happy sound of the cash register ringing. Even if the owners don’t buy food, there’s usually something they can’t resist. And lots of them buy a costume for their little darling. Or a headpiece. Reindeer horns are big.”

  “You have the soul of an entrepreneur.”

  “Yep.” Satisfaction glowed on her face as she looked around the store, as if measuring her accomplishment.

  She ate in silence for a minute, then swiveled on her stool to face him. “Was there something you wanted to talk about?”

  “You mean Sierra? No.” To give himself a moment, he crumpled the paper that had been wrapped around his sandwich. “I wanted to get to know you.”

  “Because your daughter lives with me.” Her voice was more uncertain than usual—she wasn’t quite asking a question, but almost.

  “No,” Jon said again, bracing himself. “Because I’m attracted to you.”

  “Oh.” She ducked her head in a gesture of shyness that he suspected was unusual for her. The Lucy Malone he knew tended to be forthright.

  “If you’re not interested, say so. I don’t want to make it…difficult for you, when we’re together because of Sierra.”

  He saw her gather herself. She set her can of soda on the counter and lifted her head to meet his eyes. “I don’t want to hurt Sierra’s feelings.”

  “You mean if she thinks I’m hanging around because I want to see you and not her.”

  She bit her lip and nodded.

  “I like her.”

  Lucy waited, clearly puzzled.

  “I’m also gaining a good deal of respect for her brains. No,” he corrected himself, “not just brains. Her perceptions about other people, her honesty regarding herself. I think Sierra would be able to tell if I was faking it with her. Don’t you?”

  After a moment she dipped her head in agreement, or at least acknowledgment.

  “I can’t spend as much time with either of you as I’d like until after the election. But I won’t cheat her, I promise you.”

  Emotions, doubts, thoughts cast shadows in her eyes. He couldn’t identify any of them for sure. But finally Lucy nodded again. “Okay.”

  He gave a laugh that frustration made closer to a groan. “What’s okay mean? If I ask you out to dinner, will you say yes?”

  A smile flickered on her lips. “Why don’t you ask and find out?”

  Jon gave in to the desire to touch her, reaching for one hand, loving the way it turned in his to grip him, too.

  “Lucy, will you have dinner with me Friday night?”

  “How thoughtful of you to ask,” she said demurely, the dimples in her cheeks betraying the smile she was trying to suppress. “Thank you. I’d like that.”

  He eased himself from the stool, stepping so close to her that her knees bumped his thighs. He let go of her hand to tip up her chin. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you since you walked into my office looking belligerent.”

  “I wasn’t!”

  “Okay, slitty eyed and suspicious.”

  She thought about that. “Maybe,” she admitted.

  “This seems like a good time….”

  The bell on the door tinkled. Voices and a high-pitched yap and the scrabble of claws on the hardwood floor told him they were no longer alone. His fingers tightened on her chin, then relaxed as, reluctantly, he let her go.

  He couldn’t look away from her, and her warm brown eyes didn’t leave his. Jon wasn’t sure he could breathe, either. The moment stretched until he made a ragged sound and backed up.

  He was a cop, for God’s sake, and he hadn’t even turned his head to see who had walked in. He did so now, noting that two women, each with a dog on a leash, had separated to shop for different things. The one with a powder-puff gray toy poodle was looking hopefully toward Lucy, as if she had a question.

  Time for him to go.

  “I’ll call Sierra tonight,” he said. “Maybe take her out for pizza tomorrow?”

  Lucy’s smile was approving. “I’m sure she’ll like that.”

  “Then I’ll probably see you tomorrow, too.” Regretting that they hadn’t had another couple of minutes, he turned and left. Outside on the sidewalk, he looked through the front window and saw her engaged in conversation with the customer. But as he was about to keep walking, she moved her head and her eyes sought him. Neither of them smiled; their eyes met, and finally he nodded and walked away.

  “YOU’RE SURE you don’t mind?” Lucy asked for at least the third or fourth time.

  Sierra, sprawled on Lucy’s bed watching her get dressed, heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Why do you keep asking? Do you want me to say yes, I do mind, so you have an excuse not to go? What, are you freaked about the idea of a guy actually taking you out?”

  Um…yes? But Lucy was the adult here, and not about to admit that she wasn’t nervous because a guy was taking her out—it was because Sierra’s father was. How did you say your father is the sexiest man I’ve ever met? You didn’t.

  What she did say was “So, okay, I haven’t been dating recently. That doesn’t mean I don’t.”

  Sierra expressed major skepticism with a sidelong look.

  Poking in her jewelry box for earrings, Lucy insisted, “I h
aven’t met anyone in ages who was interested me.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And you know what long hours I work.”

  Suddenly sounding young again, Sierra said, “It’s not because of me, is it?”

  It was true that Lucy might have hesitated to get involved with someone right now, but… She made a face, knowing that Sierra could see her reflection in the mirror above her dresser. “No. Until your dad came along, I haven’t been tempted in…” She tried to remember. “A year?”

  “You’re supposed to have fun when you’re in your twenties.”

  “I guess I’m picky where men are concerned.” Which was one way to put it, she thought ruefully. A girl had to rebel against her mother somehow, didn’t she? Lucy’s version meant she’d never done drugs, hardly ever drank and had had sex with exactly one guy. And at the time she’d thought that they were in love and would end up getting married. One of her major priorities was not becoming like her mother. Having fun? Low on her list.

  The doorbell rang, and she jumped. “Oh, do I look okay?”

  Sierra rolled off the bed, gave her a once-over and said, “You look amazing.”

  “And you’re positive you don’t…”

  The teenager clapped her hands over her ears. As she left the bedroom, she said loudly, “La, la, la, la. I’m not listening. You didn’t ask that again.”

  Lucy giggled, probably sounding younger than her often-too-solemn foster daughter. She stole one more glance at herself in the mirror, then followed Sierra. She reached the living room as Sierra let Jon in the front door.

  He spotted Lucy, his gaze arrested. “Hey,” he said softly. “You look beautiful.”

  Sierra grinned at her. “See? I tried to tell you.”

  “Thank you both” was the only response Lucy could think to offer. She hadn’t made this much effort on her appearance in a long time. She rarely bothered with much makeup, and hadn’t worn a skirt except to church in ages. Tonight she’d gone for a sort of Gypsy look—snug-fitting black knit top and a layered skirt in a kaleidoscope of bright colors. She’d left her hair down and worn big gold hoops in her ears and strappy heels on her feet.