Desperately Seeking Daddy. Arlene James

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СКАЧАТЬ for several minutes. The house itself, a mobile home sitting up on cement blocks, was small and sagging and rusty in places, but it had a neat, orderly look about it, a certain aura of “home.” The far end sat smack up against the trunk of an old cottonwood tree. A hickory that had been planted too close to a wide side window stood at an odd angle, its upper branches literally lying on top of the structure’s metal roof, while its lower ones jutted out over the rickety stoop. The back of the long, narrow lot was a tangle of woody shrubs and withered cedars. Someone had tied bows to one of the bushes with strips of cloth.

      Leaving his car parked at the side of the street, Jack got out and walked hesitantly across the yard to climb a trio of steps to the stoop. He paused, combing his mustache with his fingers, then abruptly sent out a fist and rapped on the door. He heard a muffled voice speaking unintelligible words. It sounded as if Heller Moore might have tied one on the night before. He raised his fist and rocked the door repeatedly in its frame. Suddenly the door swung open and a large brunette with long, stringy hair waved a hand at him before disappearing inside.

      Jack stuck his head into the dim interior. “Hello?”

      “What do you want?”

      The croaking voice came from his left. He looked into a small, open kitchen to his right. A round maple table with a scorched spot, four rail-backed chairs and a painted wooden high chair took up almost all the space, leaving a mere path in front of the L-shaped cabinet and stove. The enamel on the sink was chipped, the countertop faded. An empty plastic milk jug and an open sleeve of crackers sat in the middle of the chipped yellow stove. An assortment of cereal boxes were lined up neatly across the top of a small, ancient, olive green refrigerator. Jack stepped inside and turned in the direction of the voice.

      The living area was little more than a wide hall. A worn, brown, Early American-style sofa with small, round, ruffled throw pillows sat against the wide window, over which ugly green vinyl drapes had been parted to allow the sunlight into the room. A small coffee table had been pushed up beneath the window on the opposite wall. Upon it rested a small television with rabbit-ear antennae wrapped in strips of tin foil, a can of wildflowers at its side. A brown, oval, braided rug covered most of the pockmarked linoleum. A half-eaten bowl of popcorn had been tipped on its side, spilling fluffy white puffs of popcorn across the clean brown rug. The fake wood paneling on the walls gleamed with fresh polish. The glass in the windows shone crystal clear. A dark, narrow hall led, presumably, to the bedrooms. It wasn’t much, but it was somehow welcoming.

      The brunette was lying in a heap on the couch, her face turned into a pillow. A thin blue blanket was crumpled at her side. She was wearing pink knit shorts which had long ago lost their shape and a huge T-shirt sporting a cartoon character front and back.

      Jack cleared his throat. “I’m looking for Heller Moore.”

      The brunette rolled over to stare at him. Her face was puffy, her eyes rimmed with smudged mascara. She pushed her lank hair out of her face and said, “She ain’t here.”

      Jack’s eyes roamed around the dingy room. “Where is she?”

      The brunette sat up and gave a shrug. She looked him over frankly, then smiled. He saw to his surprise that she was considerably younger than he’d assumed. “Who’re you?”

      The question irritated him. “Seems to me you should have asked that before you opened the door.”

      She shrugged again, unconcerned, and said, “I don’t know where Heller is. She didn’t come home last night.”

      Jack felt the taste of acid in his mouth. Why was he surprised and, yes, disappointed? He shook his head. “You tell her Jackson Tyler was here.” He pulled out his wallet and flipped it open. Extracting a card, he laid it on the arm of the sofa. “You tell her to call first chance she gets, either number. Understand?”

      The big girl nodded and picked up the card. “You’re from the school?” she asked, but Jack ignored her, turning back to the open door as a rusty old behemoth of a car bounced up into the yard and came to a halt.

      Heller Moore gathered her things and got out from behind the steering wheel. She leaned against the side of the car for a moment, head back as if absorbing the sunshine, then she straightened and walked around the front end of the car. Jack moved into the doorway and lifted his arms above his head, bracing them against the frame. She was at the foot of the stoop before she looked up. Shock and something else registered in her face.

      “You!” she exclaimed.

      Jack bared his teeth in a smile. Heller Moore had come home, and he meant to give her a welcome she’d never forget.

       Chapter Two

      Heller shook her head. She should have known she’d find him here. Well, she admired his dedication. Pity she was too tired to tell him so. With a sigh she climbed the steps and endured his glare until he decided to move out of her doorway. She went inside and carefully draped the clothing she’d worn to the store the day before over the back of the chair at the end of the kitchen table. She looked around the room, acutely aware of how small and shabby it must appear in Jack Tyler’s eyes. She grimaced at the sight of the popcorn bowl turned over in the middle of the living room rug.

      “Betty!” she scolded disapprovingly as she moved across the floor. She stooped and began cleaning up the mess. “I’ve asked you time and again to pick up after yourself.”

      “Sorry,” Betty grumbled. “But it just happened. I knocked over the bowl when I got up to let him in.”

      “Well, you wouldn’t have knocked it over if you hadn’t left it sitting in the middle of the floor,” Heller pointed out. She picked up the bowl and started toward the kitchen with it, only to walk straight into Jack Tyler. She bounced off his chest, one hand clutching the popcorn bowl, the other pushing hair out of her face. “Oops. Sorry.” She sidestepped and walked around him. As she carried the bowl into the kitchen, she said over her shoulder, “I’m a walking zombie this morning. My replacement didn’t show up, so I had to work a second shift at the nursing home.”

      “Nursing home?” His voice sounded startlingly deep and resonant in such small quarters.

      She turned to look up into his face. My, he was big and undeniably handsome. She suddenly felt rumpled and plain in her faded green uniform. She lifted a hand self-consciously to the back of her neck, then scowled. What was wrong with her? She’d decided long ago to let the world take her at face value. What did she care what anyone thought as long as she knew that she was doing her dead-level best? If she looked like something the cat had dragged in, it was because she’d been up all night working in an effort to support her family. She fixed Jack Tyler with a cold glare. “We can’t all be school principals,” she informed him tartly. “Some of us have to make do as convenience store clerks and nurse’s aides.”

      To her surprise, his hazel eyes gleamed sympathetically before he looked away. “It must be difficult for you,” he said quietly, “working two jobs.”

      Difficult didn’t begin to describe her personal daily grind, but she found herself wanting to reassure him. She shrugged. “I manage.”

      She heard the slap of bare feet on the bare linoleum of the hallway floor and looked in that direction just as Cody wandered into view. His ash brown hair stuck up at odd angles. His bare chest looked painfully thin, the knobs of his shoulders protruding awkwardly before СКАЧАТЬ