––––––––
Isat in my room, holding a framed picture of my mother.
She was beautiful. Perfect. How could my father do this to her? To me? To this family? How could he bring another woman here? How could he lie to me about it?
I heard the front door open and slam, followed by Daddy’s footsteps approaching my room. He flung the door open, flipped on the lights, and stood, arms crossed in my doorway.
“What do you want?” I asked, my hands still gently caressing my mother’s picture.
“What you did at the stable was rude and completely unprofessional.”
“Unprofessional?” I demanded, my anger exploding. “You’re dating my teacher. I could have her fired!”
“You’re not going to do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re not dating. We are just friends.”
I rolled my eyes. “You looked mighty cozy to me.”
“Is this what I am going to have to deal with the rest of my life? Every time I am interested in a woman, the pictures come out and the guilt trips begin?”
“It’s better than pretending like you were never married.”
“I was. I was married to your mother for eighteen, wonderful years. Years that I treasure. But it’s been six years since Leslie died. Am I never allowed to date again?”
“No!”
He threw up his hands.
“You’re being unreasonable!”
“She was my mother!”
“She was my wife! I loved her, too.”
“I can tell.”
“What are you? Crazy? Do you think I’m just going out with some psycho stranger?”
“It doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t be going out at all. Mom just died. How are you over her?”
“I will never be over her!” His eyes turned glossy. “I will never be over Leslie, but I was married for eighteen years. I’d like to be married again someday.”
“And so you’ve chosen my English teacher?”
“I didn’t know she was your English teacher until a few minutes ago when she told me after you jetted out like your tail was on fire.”
“Great. Now you know. Dump her.”
“I am not going to dump her. We’re not even dating.”
“Great. Then it will be easier.”
He groaned. “You are being ridiculous right now. I love you. I loved your mother when she was alive. I am not an evil person for seeing a woman occasionally.”
He said this last line more to himself than to me. I could tell by his tone that he’d said it before. How long had he been convincing himself that this was a good idea before he tumbled head first back in to the dating world?
Not long enough, apparently. And definitely not by informing his only daughter that he was going to be marching a caravan of women through my life from now on.
“We’ve had a very stressful day,” he said softly. “We’ve both said some things we didn’t mean.”
“I didn’t,” I muttered.
“And let’s not forget the original issue—that you snuck out the house and lied about being with that Jake boy.”
“I guess it runs in the family.”
I saw the hurt in his eyes and ignored it, pulling my knees up to my chest and burying my head.
A moment later, Daddy closed the door.
I turned off my light, sitting in the darkness while Mojo nuzzled my feet.
How could Daddy date again? Didn’t he miss my mom?
I’d never thought about Daddy dating before today. Was it so bad that he dated again? Yes. Yes; it was. He was a widower. His wife had just died. He should be focused on dealing with his grief. Not with dating. That came later. Much, much later. And with my consent and approval. After all, I was his closest relative. I should have a say in who he dates. As his only daughter, it was up to me to make sure that the woman in question was right for him.
And that woman definitely was not Leah Mitchell.
I laid down and covered myself with the blankets, my mother’s picture still in my arms.