He didn’t respond, and she continued.
“I only picked up Mackenzie—that’s Jessica’s daughter—a week and a half ago,” she said. “And the thing is, I always told Jessica I thought she should get in touch with you about her. That you should know. I didn’t find out who my father was until I was sixteen, and—”
“Your father was that vet, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, but my birth father was someone else altogether,” she said. “I didn’t know that, and I think I had a right to know. And so did he.” She was rambling, talking fast. “Anyway, Jessica disagreed with me, but I think deep down, she really wanted you to know, or else she wouldn’t have left her to me. So, that’s why I’m calling. Just to let you know that Mackenzie exists. That you have a daughter.”
Again, the silence, followed by a low chuckle. “I’m feeling something like…I think I’m having a panic attack.”
His vulnerability softened her. “I guess I can’t blame you for that,” she said.
“You know, Lacey, Jessica was…well, she was pretty loose.”
Her sympathy for him quickly evaporated, although she could understand his doubt. “Jessica talked a lot looser than she actually was,” she said. “You were the only guy she was…intimate with around that time. And she was sure.”
“A drunk driver,” he said, suddenly returning to the previous topic. “Damn.”
“Yes,” she said.
“So, what’s she like? The girl? What did you say her name is?”
“Mackenzie.” Lacey pondered how to describe her. “She’s going through a difficult time right now, losing her mother and moving here. Frankly, she’s a handful.”
He laughed. “Then maybe she is my kid.”
Lacey had to smile. “She’s sullen and sulky and obstinate and negative and I’m pretty sure she stole some money from me, and she’s demanding and bad-natured and thinks the world owes her for taking her mother. And she’s impossible to talk to. And she hates me and everything else in the entire universe.”
The laughter again, but this time much softer. “Yeah, but tell me what you really think about her,” he said.
She sighed. “Sorry. I’m not in a good place right now.”
“Well, I hope you never take a job in sales, because you’re lousy at it. If you’re trying to sell me on this kid, you’re not doing the greatest job.”
“I’m being honest.”
“I get that,” he said.
“Bobby, I have to ask you something straight-out, okay?”
“Please do.”
“Sorry if this isn’t diplomatic. But you were so crazy when I knew you. What are you like now?”
“Different,” he said. “I’m not your button-down work-in-an-office-cubicle type, but I’m responsible. I own a little house. I pay my bills on time. I’m clean.”
She closed her eyes. That was what she needed to hear. “I don’t think there was a drug you hadn’t tried when I knew you.”
“I wasn’t nearly the druggie I pretended to be. And I haven’t used anything in five years. I’m in AA, Lace.”
The use of the nickname touched her, the meaning behind the words even more so. She knew the change AA had made in Tom. Like magic, Tom turned into a different man, and yet she knew the change had been gradual and had involved hard work. It had been anything but magic.
“That’s great, Bobby,” she said. “Are you working?”
“No, Lace, I stand on a street corner and panhandle.”
The image was so close to what she had imagined that it took her a minute to realize he was joking. “Well, what sort of work do you do?”
“I went back to college and changed my major to art, although I never did finish. I got into scrimshaw. I’m a scrimshander.”
She frowned into the phone, picturing the few pieces of scrimshaw she had seen; drawings of tall ships etched in black on ancient whale teeth. “That’s what you do for a living?”
He laughed at the tone of her voice. “Actually, yes,” he said. “I’m not living in the lap of luxury, but I love what I do. I work mostly on commission. And how about you?”
“Stained glass,” she said. “And I work part-time as a vet tech in my father’s practice.”
“Didn’t your mother used to do stained glass?”
“Yes.”
“Like mother like daughter, huh?”
The thought irritated her. “Not quite,” she said.
“I also teach drawing at the adult schools around here,” he said. “Supplements my income a bit.”
“Are you married?” She hadn’t considered what this news might do to any relationship he was in.
“Uh-uh,” he said. “I lived with a woman for a few years. She’s the silversmith who does the work on the jewelry pieces I make. We split a year ago, but stayed friends. How about you?”
“Unattached,” she said. “And although I’m happy with that status, it makes the idea of raising someone else’s child even more daunting.”
“Yeah, I bet.” He was quiet, and she could almost hear him thinking through the next step of this conversation. “So look, Lace,” he said. “I don’t have much money, but if she’s really mine—”
“She’s yours.”
“If she’s mine,” he said again, “I’ll help. Can I meet her?”
“I think I should talk to her about it first,” she said. “I’m really not sure what the best course of action is. If she wants to meet you, and you’re willing, then I’ll call you and we can figure out what to do next.”
“Fair enough,” he said.
“I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” she said. “That is, if she’s in a decent mood.”
“Sounds like you might have to settle for half-decent,” he said.
Lacey laughed. “You’re right,” she said. “And thanks for…for being so easy about this.”
He hesitated. “You don’t think much of me, do you?” he asked.
It was her turn to be silent. “I don’t know what to think, Bobby,” she said.
“Right.”
“I’ll call you after I talk to her,” Lacey said.
“Okay. And Lacey?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry if I hurt you in any way that summer.”
She got off the phone, and to her surprise, began to cry.
CHAPTER 18
Bobby sat with the phone in his lap for a long time after hanging up with Lacey, a numbness settling over him as he replayed the conversation in his mind. He reached for the pack of Marlboros on the broad worktable, set up in what was supposed to be his dining room, and shook one of the cigarettes into his hand. He lit it, inhaled deeply and let the smoke out of his mouth in a long, slow stream.
Lacey O’Neill. He remembered how she had chopped off her beautiful, if out-of-control, red hair that summer. Chopped it off to within an inch of her scalp and then dyed it jet black. Yet every time he’d looked at her with that short, dark mop on her head, his mind had painted in the missing red hair. That’s how much that long hair had been part of her: he could see it even when it wasn’t there. He should have asked her what she looked like now. Was her hair long, or did she still try to hide who she was with dye and scissors?
And Jessica Dillard. Very young. A petite blond seductress. How easily a seventeen-year-old boy could be seduced. Although he’d always found Lacey’s personality and big blue eyes and deep dimples more engaging than Jessica’s sultry looks and provocative nature, Lacey’s quiet fragility had scared him off. He’d made love to her once, if you could call deflowering a virgin on the beach making love. It had hurt her, that much he remembered. She’d yelped in pain and he’d stopped, but she told him to keep on going. He knew she wasn’t having any fun, that she just wanted him to get it over with, but he was too far gone to get into a long discussion about the matter. He’d finished what he started and the very next night, turned to her best friend, who didn’t seem to have a fear in the world, who did not yelp, who liked to wrap her body around h
is, her blond hair splayed out on the sand. Jessica had been an animal, bucking beneath him. They’d done it every which way. Most of the time with a condom. Some of the time without. What a goddamned asshole he’d been.
Sometimes you looked back at the person you once were and wanted to throw up. He’d tried so hard to hide from the past, but every now and then, a reminder would pop up that he just couldn’t shake. Like Lacey’s phone call. Like a child she said was his.
With a sigh, he set the phone back on the corner of the table, then reached for the piece of mammoth ivory he’d been working on when the call had come. The ancient piece of ivory, now plain and smooth and off-white, would become a belt buckle decorated with a delicate color portrait of three beloved dogs, a gift from one of his customers to her husband. It was going to be beautiful, and it would take him weeks to complete. It would also cost the woman a pretty penny.
He couldn’t get into working on the ivory, though. He would mess it up if he tried now. He took another drag on his cigarette and looked through the dining room window. His view was of the alley behind his small house, and beyond the alley, the garage of one of his neighbors, the one with the dog that barked and snarled at him every time he took his garbage out.
A year ago he’d wanted a kid so badly he just about cried every time Claudia got her period. They’d been trying for nearly three years, and if they’d succeeded he would have married her and they would have made a go of it. He tried not to let his disappointment show, but she knew how much he longed for a child. Someone to pour his love into. Someone to raise better than he had been raised. He would correct all the mistakes his parents had made. Mackenzie. Funny name for a girl. It made him smile. So, she was belligerent and obstinate and all those other negative adjectives Lacey had used to describe her. She was still a real, living, breathing child in need of a father.
But he was as sure as he could be that she was not his.
CHAPTER 19
Mackenzie was eyeing the CDs in the window of the music store when Lacey came up behind her. She’d just tossed three bags of new clothes for the girl into the car but knew they weren’t done shopping yet.
“Would you like to get a couple of CDs?” she asked.
“Where’s the CD player?” Mackenzie kept her gaze on the store window.
“There’s one in the living room, but maybe you should have a boom box for your room. What do you think?”
“I think yes,” Mackenzie said. “Could we go in here and get one?”
“Go on in and get a few CDs, and then we can go to Kmart. The boom boxes will be cheaper there.”
“How many can I get?” Mackenzie asked.
“Four,” Lacey said. “I’ll sit out here and you can come get me when you’re ready to pay, okay?”
“’Kay.” Mackenzie walked into the store, and Lacey sat down on a bench. She was wiped out. Her legs ached and when she looked down at her pale, freckled arms, they looked flabby to her. She hadn’t made it to the gym since Mackenzie’s arrival, and she wasn’t sure when she would be able to go again. Until a year ago, she’d liked to go to the gym in the afternoon or evening, when it was filled with young singles and she could easily meet guys. These days, though, she liked to go very early in the morning, when only the truly serious exercisers were present and she was safe from temptation. Now she would have to figure out when the mothers went to the gym and join their ranks.
She and Mackenzie had spent the entire morning shopping in the outlet stores. Lacey was handing over her credit card with abandon, but that could not continue. This was a special shopping trip, she told herself. Mackenzie’s boxes of clothing and other paraphernalia had not yet arrived from Phoenix, and she needed new clothes and a few other things to help her begin to feel at home.
Money was going to be a problem. Nola had given Lacey two hundred dollars to use on this shopping spree, but she would have to ask her for more. She would need a regular infusion of money if she was going to be able to take care of Mackenzie above the poverty line. But she couldn’t talk to Nola about this yet. Despite her ambivalence about wanting custody of Mackenzie, Nola was still smarting over Jessica’s guardianship decision, and Lacey thought it politic to wait a while longer before broaching the subject of a monthly stipend for the girl. There was Bobby, of course, but even if he was willing to help, it didn’t sound like he would have much to offer monetarily.
Living in the keeper’s house had been a blessing, Lacey thought, since there had been no rent involved—only the responsibility of helping with the restoration. Next year, though, she would have to find a rental and go back to the real world. Her income was sufficient to meet her own modest needs, but not those of a child. Mackenzie had inherited the few thousand dollars that had been in Jessica’s savings account and she would inherit about ten thousand dollars when the condo sold, but that money should go into a college savings account.
They had spent much of the morning in the GAP outlet, with Mackenzie wanting every belly-button-exposing outfit she tried on. “I need to get my navel pierced,” she said, as if she was talking about her need for water or sunshine, and Lacey almost told her that she had a pierced navel herself. She longed to make Mackenzie see that she was not a pathetic old spinster, but the time didn’t seem right.
After the GAP, they visited most of the stores on the strip, and Mackenzie’s conflicted, preadolescent needs and desires were much in evidence. She wanted stuffed animals, and Lacey let her pick out a teddy bear and a dog for her room. She wanted a small glass horse. She wanted games for her computer. And she wanted nail polish and necklaces. Lacey bought her nearly everything she asked for, as if she could make up for the loss of a mother by giving her material possessions.
Mackenzie opened the door of the record store and poked her head outside. “Ready,” she said, and Lacey walked inside to hand over her credit card once again.
“Let’s get something to eat and then we’ll stop at Kmart on the way home,” she said, as they left the store and walked toward the car. Her plan for the morning had been to take Mackenzie shopping, then, over lunch, tell her about her conversation with Bobby. She had no idea how Mackenzie would respond to the fact that she’d spoken with her father.
It took them a while to decide where to have lunch, but Mackenzie finally agreed that Taco Bell would be all right. “In Phoenix, though, I would never go to Taco Bell,” she said as they pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot. “But since there’s hardly any other Mexican food here, I guess it’s the only choice.”
“Maybe we can make some Mexican food at home one of these nights,” Lacey suggested, but Mackenzie was already out of the car and hearing range.
Inside the restaurant, they carried their trays of food to a table near the front window. As soon as they’d sat down, Mackenzie reached into her purse for her cell phone.
“No,” Lacey said, for what seemed like the first time that day. She shook her head at the cell phone. “Please put that away,” she said. “I want to talk to you.”
“I don’t want to talk,” Mackenzie said. “I mean, I want to talk to my friends on the phone, but—”
“Not now,” Lacey said. “I have something important to discuss with you.”
“What?” She lowered the phone to her lap and began unwrapping her taco.
“I’ve spoken with your father.”
“What?” Mackenzie’s hands froze on the taco. Her eyes were huge.
Lacey nodded. “I contacted him. He’d like to meet you.”
“No way.” Mackenzie shook her head violently.
“Why not?”
“Because he’s a jerk.”
She wondered what, if anything, Jessica had told her daughter about Bobby. “Why do you say that?” she asked.
Mackenzie lifted the taco toward her mouth, but set it down again without taking a bite. “My mother said he was not the least bit interested in me,” she said.
“He didn’t know about you. She never let him know.”
&n
bsp; “He knew and he didn’t care.”
“No, Mackenzie, he had no idea. I’m sorry, but if your mother told you that she’d told him about you, she was…” She could hardly say that Jessica had lied to her. “She was probably trying to protect you, because she was afraid that if she did tell him, he might not care.”
“She said he was a big loser, that it was probably good that he didn’t want to see me.”
“You know what?” Lacey said with a nod. “She’s right that he was a big loser when she knew him. And I was a big loser back then, too.”
Mackenzie looked unsurprised by that revelation and Lacey rushed on, wanting to avoid the girl’s inevitable retort: You’re still a big loser. “And so was your mother,” she added.
“Don’t you dare say that.” There was fire in Mackenzie’s eyes.
“We were all young and stupid and just trying to figure out how to get by in life,” Lacey said. “Just like you’re doing. Eventually, we grew up and got our acts together.”
“I totally know how to get by,” Mackenzie said. “And my mother was never a loser.”
“Define loser, then,” Lacey said.
“Someone who has no life.”
“And what does that mean, exactly?” Lacey pressed her.
“You know, they don’t have anything going for them. They use drugs or drink or do stupid things.”
Maybe she was overstepping herself here, but she didn’t bother to stop. “That defines me and your mother and Bobby. But it was a phase we were going through.”
Mackenzie frowned. “My mother never used drugs.”
“Maybe not,” Lacey lied. “But she did make some stupid choices. Just like I did. And like all our friends did.”
“That’s his name? Bobby?”
Lacey nodded.
“What a dork.”
“You know.” Lacey looked down at her untouched burrito. “Ultimately it doesn’t matter what you think. You can’t change who your father is, so maybe you could try being grateful that he’d like to get to know you.”
“Where does he live?”