Saving Alyssa. Loree Lough

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      “Broken,” Noah corrected. He put the car into gear. “Sounds more ladylike than busted.”

      “But...I’m just a kid. Why do I have to talk like a lady?”

      “Because I said so.”

      As he turned onto Main Street, his daughter said, “My name is Alyssa. What’s yours?”

      “Billie.”

      “But...but Billy is a boy’s name.”

      “Only if you spell it B-i-l-l-y. I spell it B-i-l-l-i-e.”

      “There’s a boy in my class,” she said, “and his name is Billy— Daddy! Look!” She pointed across the street. “Isn’t that little white dog the cutest thing ever!”

      If he ever said yes to getting a dog, it sure wouldn’t be a yippy ankle-biter like that one. “Uh-huh,” he said. When he’d been forced to leave her favorite doll at the airport, Noah had soothed her tears by promising to replace it with a kitten. Mouser was nice enough, as cats go, but certainly not the in-your-face pup Alyssa had always dreamed about.

      “If I had a dog,” she said now, “it would be big, with a happy face. Like the one you had when you were a little boy, ’member, Daddy?”

      “I sure do.” How could he forget the gentle giant that had been more sibling than pet?

      Alyssa giggled. “Tell Billie his name.”

      “Cash.” He didn’t know why, but he felt obliged to explain. “My dad named him Cash Money, because he’d been abused before we adopted him, and cost a fortune at the vet’s.”

      Noah glanced over at her, and for a moment there she looked mildly interested. Then she pointed left, and he realized the route had captured her attention, not the story.

      “You just passed my street,” she said.

      Now it was Noah’s turn to groan, because it meant driving up to Hamilton Street to make a U-turn in the post office parking lot. Halfway there, traffic on Main Street slowed, then came to a grinding halt. While drivers around him raised their hands and muttered, Noah gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles ached. Trapped at a dead stop between parked cars and the constant flow of traffic heading east, he and Alyssa—and Billie, too—might as well have bull’s-eyes painted on their foreheads.

      He held his breath. Checked the side mirrors. Glanced over his shoulder, looking for what, he didn’t know. Facing front again, he peered into the rearview mirror.

      “What’s wrong, Daddy? You look...scared.”

      “Nah. Just frustrated. You know how I get in traffic.”

      He watched the concern drain from his daughter’s face, and just that fast, she was back on track.

      “Oh, yes. Daddy hates traffic jams,” she said to Billie. “Sometimes he even gets so mad about it that he says bad words!”

      Billie chuckled quietly, then pursed her lips and looked out the passenger window. Noah shook his head. What a weird time to miss Jillian. On second thought, it wasn’t weird at all. His wife had been so easygoing and easy to love. He didn’t need an Einstein IQ to figure out why the few women who had inspired a second glance since her death had done so: they’d been gorgeous, smart and outgoing— just like Jillian. He blamed loneliness for his knee-jerk, momentary attraction to Billie back at the shop.

      “Did your mom think you were going to be a boy?” Alyssa asked. “Is that why she named you Billie with an i-e?”

      A second, then two passed before she answered. “My granddad’s name is Bill.”

      Alyssa clapped her hands. “Oh, I get it! Your mom wanted to name you after him, but when a baby girl popped out, it was too late to pick a new name!”

      “It’s not my real name. It’s just what everybody calls me.”

      If she didn’t want to share the name printed on her birth certificate, that was okay with him.

      Traffic eased up, and so did Noah’s tension. They drove in silence for several blocks, until Alyssa noticed the Firehouse Museum. The next couple minutes were filled with what she remembered about its interior, where old firefighters’ uniforms and helmets, tools and dozens of model-sized fire engines had been displayed behind red velvet ropes or inside glass-shelved cases.

      “Have you been there, Billie?”

      “No.”

      “Maybe we could go together.”

      Noah glanced over at Billie, whose eyes were wide with surprise...and indecision.

      “The museum is open on Saturday. Can we go then, Daddy, and show Billie all the neat stuff inside?”

      “We’ll see.”

      Alyssa thought that over while Billie shot him a half smile that said “thanks.” For sparing her from having to say no? Or for stalling the visit until she could walk around better?

      “Oh! Daddy?”

      Noah glanced at his daughter in the rearview mirror again.

      “Do you mean we should wait until Billie’s ankle is okay?”

      He nodded. “That would be a good idea.”

      Alyssa leaned forward in her seat. “How long before it’s better, Billie?”

      The woman turned slightly, and only long enough to say over her shoulder, “A week, maybe two.”

      “Don’t worry.” Alyssa smiled. “I’ll think of something else. Something fun you can do sitting down.”

      For as long as Noah could remember, Alyssa had been a natural-born caretaker. He watched as her forefinger tapped her chin. He counted backward, waiting for her to come up with an idea for an outing that would allow Billie to participate while seated.

      Ten, nine, eight—

      “Do we still have that coupon from T-Bonz? The one that says ‘Live Music on Saturdays’?”

      Alyssa wanted a mom, like the other kids in her class. Noah got that. What he didn’t get was why she saw mother potential in just about every female who crossed her path.

      “The music doesn’t start until eight o’clock,” he told her, “and you’re way too young to be up that late.”

      “It’s just as well,” Billie said. “I have a website to design for a client by Monday.” She gestured. “There’s my stree—”

      Noah made the right turn onto Old Columbia Pike, eliminating the need for her to point it out. “I fiddled around with a website for the bike shop.” He slowed the pickup, waiting for her to tell him which house was hers. “Put a day’s work into a page, and gave up when I lost the whole thing with one keystroke.”

      Billie nodded. “Mistakes like that make СКАЧАТЬ