The Truth About Tara

“Daddy!” Susie cried. If she hadn’t made sure the entire camp knew she was eleven, Carrie never would have guessed her age. She was short and on the stocky side, with a round, flat face that was always smiling. In her fine, straight brownish-blond hair, she wore a pink bow. “Look what I found!”

Her hands were cradled together. She opened them and a spider with eight spindly legs jumped out on the table. Carrie took an involuntary step backward. It was a daddy longlegs.

“Look how cute it is!” Susie cried.

Gustavo laughed and hoisted his daughter onto his lap. “Only you would call a spider cute. You were careful with him, weren’t you, mi hija dulce?”

Carrie knew enough Spanish to figure out that translated to “my sweet daughter.”

“Yeah. See how fast he moves,” Susie said, her attention on the spider. Her speech was quite good, clearer than Danny’s. Down syndrome children commonly had significant language delays. She must have had a good speech therapist.

“He’s trying to get away.” Gustavo blocked a side of the table so the spider didn’t scramble to the floor.

“Why?” Susie asked. “We won’t hurt him.”

“He doesn’t know that.” Gustavo set his daughter back on the floor and got to his feet. He easily caught the spider in his cupped hands. “Let’s take him outside where he belongs.”

Susie’s face fell. “I didn’t mean to make him sad.”

“Are you kidding me, sweetheart? If not for you, he might never find his way outside.” He slanted a look at Carrie. “You’ll have to excuse me. Fatherhood calls.”

“Go,” Carrie said.

He smiled at Carrie. The bulk of his attention, however, was on his daughter, where it rightly should be. She watched them leave, forming the impression that Gustavo Miller was a very nice man and an even better father.

It wasn’t until he was almost out of sight that she realized she never had gotten around to asking him to waive the second half of Danny’s tuition.

* * *

TARA BLINKED ONCE, then twice. It did no good. Jack