Most Wanted Dad

Without another word he walked over to his truck and got in. Amy hurried after, catching the door before he could close it.

“Evans!”

He slid his shades off and dropped them into a console between the bucket seats. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I mean, I’m sorry for…well, for everything, and thank you for helping me out today. I don’t know what I’d have done if you had passed me by—and you had every right to.”

He dropped his gaze. “Well, I just always figured that neighbors were supposed help out one another.”

“You’re right, of course,” she told him softly. “I’ve behaved terribly. I hope this means that you’ve forgiven me.”

He flashed her a grin. “I always forgive pretty ladies.” He settled himself behind the wheel then, while her mouth hung open, he said, “I’ve got to run. Got to shave off this sandpaper before I report to the station.” He rubbed his jaw.

She backed up, and he closed the door. Only as the truck was moving did she think to call out, “Thank you!” She doubted that he heard her. The truck had already wheeled out into the street and was accelerating through a green light. In another moment it disappeared over a slight rise in the street.

She stood in the parking lot, her groceries ruining in the back of her car, and wondered if he’d realized what he’d said. He didn’t really think she was pretty…did he?

Chapter Three

Amy stared at the open pack of cigarettes on the coffee table and imagined herself slipping the filter tip between her lips. She could almost smell the oily fragrance of the flame as she struck the lighter. She could almost feel the swirl of smoke expanding in her lungs, the shiver of nicotine euphoria that seemed alternately to tighten then relax her skin. She closed her eyes and pulled again, shocked to feel pressure on the tip of her little finger rather than the soothing inhalation of smoke. With a groan of disgust, she jerked her hand from her mouth and thrust it through her hair as the hard twang of a rock guitar throbbed through the night. Was it her imagination again, or had the volume been cranked up another notch?

Sighing, she leaned forward on the couch, laid her forehead against her knees and folded her arms over the back of her head. Why was she doing this? Why in blue blazes didn’t she just pick up the phone and get Kincaid to come home and take care of this insanity? But she already knew the answer to that. She didn’t want to fight with him anymore. She owed him for fixing her car that afternoon…and he had implied that he thought she was pretty, darn him. But that was just casual talk, the sort of thing an attractive, confident man tossed about whenever a woman was around.

Still, she couldn’t help wondering how long it had been since any man had commented favorably on her looks. Even Mark hadn’t been given to easy compliments. That being so, she would treasure them all the more, he had told her, and of course, Mark was right, which meant that she was being an idiot about this. No meaningless compliment was worth enduring the nerve-jangling blasts from the house next door. She had to do something before she started climbing the walls. It was bad enough to want a smoke at this time of night. No one should have to endure this screeching nonsense on top of that.

She got up off the couch, full of righteous indignation, and marched toward the door. On the way she did something she never did, she glanced in the gold-framed mirror on the living room wall, the one Mark’s aunt had given them. She shuddered at what she saw. Her hair had grown limp with perspiration. Her cheeks were reddened from being out in the sun, and she had no eyebrows or eyelashes at all. Had she been walking around like this all the time? Maybe she didn’t have anybody to impress, but it didn’t hurt to take pride in one’s appearance. In fact, someone had recently told her that it was healthy to do so. Her sister maybe? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she not go out this way, no, not even to put that little freak next door in her place.

She made an about-face and marched straight into the bathroom. By the time she rinsed and dried her hair, slapped on a little foundation, brushed color on her lashes and brows—which turned out to need a little plucking—and stroked on some lip gloss, the music from next door was threatening to break the glass in the windows. What on earth did that child think she was doing? She was practically begging for trouble. Well, trouble was on its way.

Head high, Amy stomped out of the house. This time when she glanced in the mirror, she gave herself a congratulatory nod. Maybe she wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, but at least she was relatively well groomed. She walked across the lawn and Kincaid’s drive, then onto the grass in his yard and up onto the porch. She couldn’t help noticing that the lawn was clipped and edged. Moreover, the grayish-blue-and-white house was freshly painted and in good repair. The welcome mat was clean, and the porch light was free of insect remains and cobwebs. Somebody had been busy. It was a wonder, though, that the windows weren’t in shards and the roof bouncing a foot or so above the walls. How did that kid stand it?

Without bothering to knock, Amy tried the doorknob. It turned freely, and she pushed it open, shouting, “Mattie? Mattie!”

Her hands over her ears, she hurried through the graceful entry and into the living room. Her feet sank into lush softness as she stepped onto the pale gray carpet. A quick scan of the room showed her two things, an impressive stereo system arranged on shelving mounted on one wall and Mattie curled up in a ball in big, comfy club chair, her arms wrapped around her head. Amy launched across the room and started hitting buttons and dials until blessed silence descended. The relief was almost physical.

“Oh, you’re home,” Mattie said sullenly and lifted her head, which showed definite highlights of green around the face this night. The shock on that face when she saw Amy rather than her father, coupled with the black and green makeup on her eyes and the coral lipstick on her mouth, was downright comical. “What are you doing here?” she asked Amy.

“Saving your hearing. What in heaven’s name did you think you were doing?”

Mattie stuck her chin out at a belligerent angle. “You can’t just walk in here,” she insisted.

Amy chuckled. “Like you’d have heard me if I’d knocked, especially since I screamed for you before I came in.”

Mattie glared. “Where’s my father?”

“I wouldn’t know. Why do you ask?”

Mattie’s eyes grew round and shimmering. She’s lonely, Amy found herself thinking.

“Didn’t you call him?” she asked Amy.

“No, I didn’t call him. I figure he has enough to do at the moment, keeping the city safe from delinquents like you.”

Suddenly Mattie’s eyes were flowing with tears. She ducked her head on a strangled sob. Amy melted like butter in summer sunlight. “Hey, now, I was only kidding.”

“I’m not a delinquent! I’m not!” Mattie sobbed.

The poor kid’s misery pulled Amy across the room. Soon she was standing beside the big jewel-toned chair. “I said I was only kidding. Listen, I won’t say a word to your father, I promise.”

“Oh, swell!” Mattie snapped, lifting her head and swiping at tears. “Just let him ignore me, see if I care!”

Amy’s freshly drawn brows rose straight up. “Is that what this is all about? You wanted me to call him, didn’t you? You wanted him to come home.”

Mattie instantly sobered and matured. “Don’t be silly. I was just enjoying my music. I don’t know why everybody makes such a big deal about it.”

Amy folded her arms, smirking. “Right. You always enjoy your music with your ears covered.”

The child was back, eyes wide, chin wobbling. “I—I just fell asleep, that’s all.”

“Yeah? Well, that’s some trick. Maybe you could market your secret to a grateful world of insomniacs.”

That wobbling chin jutted up stubbornly. “Why are you being so mean to me?”

Amy dropped her jaw in comic outrage. “Me, be mean to you? Have I tried to burst your ear drums? Have I filed public nuisance charges? Have I purposefully blasted you out of your own house?” The operative word, and they both knew it, was purposefully.

Mattie dropped her chin to her chest. For some time she said nothing, and Amy sensed that this was a moment when she ought to keep her own mouth shut. Even when Mattie began to quietly cry, Amy kept her silence, and finally Mattie came out with it.

“I don’t know what the matter is with me. I don’t really want to go back to L.A. To tell you the truth, it really wasn’t much better. I just get so lonely sometimes.”

Amy felt an instant, unexpected kinship with this odd girl. If anyone understood loneliness, Amy did. She resisted the uncommon urge to lay a hand on Mattie’s head and said, “I suppose that’s to be expected, but you’ll get used to it.”

“Get used to being lonely?” Mattie said with some surprise.

Amy was taken aback. Had she really said that? Was that what she’d done, resigned herself to loneliness? She shook her head, as much in answer to her own thoughts as Mattie’s. “What I meant to say was that you’ll get used to living in a new place a-and that in a couple weeks you’ll make some new friends and—”

Mattie threw up her hands and uncurled, sending both feet to the floor. “You’re talking about school, but school is so lame! I wouldn’t even go if I didn’t have to.”

“Well, you do have to,” Amy said, sounding for all the world like her own mother, “so why don’t you make the best of it? You might be surprised.”

“Don’t you understand?” Mattie said desperately. “I need more than school chums!”

“That’s right,” Amy said. “You need an education.” Mattie snorted inelegantly at that, and Amy found herself feeding her the same line adults always fed teenagers. “You can’t do anything without an education.” Mattie pressed her mouth into a thin line as if refusing a dose of bitter medicine. Amy rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Don’t you have any plans, any dreams? What do you want to do with your life?”

Mattie shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know that I’m not going to find what I need in some high school.”

“Just give it a chance,” Amy urged.

“I need something more than most kids my age,” Mattie went on. “I need…”