I woke up the next morning to see Einstein camped out in a sleeping bag on my bedroom floor.
“Dad?” I croaked, sitting up in bed. “What are you doing here?”
He rolled over and opened his eyes.
“Hey, good morning.”
Then, with a stretch of his arms, he opened the sleeping bag and came over to sit at the foot of my bed.
“I couldn’t sleep last night, thinking about you alone in here. I had to make sure you were safe, so I snuck in here in the middle of the night. Hope you don’t mind.”
“No, I don’t mind,” I replied, reaching for Frou-frou.
He folded his arms across his chest and took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was low and serious. “You gave me quite a scare yesterday, Mack.”
I hung my head. “Yeah, I know. Sorry, Dad.”
“What were you doing in that boy’s apartment, anyway? You were dating him behind my back?”
Oh God! Time to face the music.
“Um, yeah …,” I admitted sheepishly. There was no point trying to cover it up anymore.
Dad cleared his throat and began tapping his foot on the floor — two sure signs that he was not pleased. I knew if he started rubbing his forehead, big trouble was definitely coming.
“And how long has it been going on?”
I sighed and picked at the fluff balls on Froufrou’s one remaining ear. “A few months. I wanted to tell you, but I knew you’d just make me stop seeing him.”
He looked hurt. “How can you be so sure about that? We could at least have talked about it.”
“Come on, Dad! You wouldn’t even discuss the idea of dating at all. Remember my birthday?”
The old “pin-stuck-in-the-butt” look flashed across his face.
“Yes, I remember. But the whole idea just made me nervous. I want you to be safe, that’s all.”
I sighed again, then slumped down on my pillow. “I understand, Dad, but you’re treating me like a child, and I’m not one anymore!”
“I do not treat you like a child,” he protested.
“Please! Who else but a ten-year-old has a seven o’clock curfew?”
He paused and began rubbing his forehead. Horns from the intersection below filled the silence while I waited for his reaction. But when he spoke again his voice wasn’t angry at all. In fact, it was a little hoarse.
“You’re right, honey. I guess I’ve been kind of out of it for a while … probably since Mom died. You seemed like such a little girl when that happened and now, well … I just don’t know what to do with a young woman.”
I was shocked to hear him admit that I was a young woman, and even more shocked to hear him bring up Mom … He never did that! My heart softened a bit when I saw the tears in his eyes; I could tell this was difficult for him.
Before he could change the subject, I took a deep breath and asked, “Dad, do you ever wonder what Mom would have thought of it here?”
He paused for a second and dabbed at the corners of his eyes with his fingertips. When he spoke again, his words caught in his throat.
I dropped Frou-frou and reached for his hand. It felt rough compared to the soft fur of my bear. But it was warm and just as familiar. I gave it a light squeeze.
“And?”
“I think she would have adored it. I think she would have soaked up the history and culture of this place. She would have loved the dig in Tiberias. I thought about her a lot when we were there. I know how fascinating she would have found the whole process — even though she didn’t have any formal training, she was always an archaeologist at heart.”
I smiled at that. After Tiberias, I felt that way, too.
“But I think the thing she would have loved most about this place would have been watching how it affected you, Mack.”
I was surprised by that. “Me?”
Dad nodded. “You’ve become a different person since we moved here. You’re more confident, more independent. You’re definitely more assertive. I think — no, I know Mom would have been proud of you.”
Tears stung the backs of my eyes. I didn’t reply. I just let those words sink into my heart.
Mom would have been proud of you.