Her Daughter's Father. Anna Adams

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СКАЧАТЬ higher than the rest—India pushed nervous fingertips through her hair. While the frightened cry still echoed in her head, she turned toward the parking lot’s edge.

      With so many cars here, every house in town must be empty. She craned her neck, searching for—what? Almost before she realized she was hearing it again, the thin, high voice arched over the fun once more.

      India made a beeline for the sound. In the weaker light beyond the open lot, cars stood in rows. Three rows back, the tall, gangly boy from beside the kissing booth tried to tug the purple-haired girl into a cherry-red sports car while two more girls dragged at her other arm. They all struggled in silence now.

      Suddenly the two other girls broke away and ran toward the festival crowds. India had eyes only for the girl who still clung with both hands to the roof of the boy’s car.

      “Get in,” he shouted. “Get in or you’ll never see me again.”

      Intimately familiar words, in a different context, in a more dangerous situation than when her long-ago boyfriend had threatened her with them, deepened India’s instinctive rage.

      “I won’t go with you when you’re like this.” The girl tried to arch away from him, but he only pushed harder.

      Her friends ran up to India. Their great relief hurt her. They were just little girls, caught in a bad game of grownup.

      One intercepted her. “He’s been drinking. Our friend—Please help us.”

      India broke into a run. “Go get more help.”

      “Okay.”

      With heightened senses, she heard their footsteps fade behind her. In the false light, the paint on the boy’s car looked warm and wet. As she rounded the hood, India slapped her palm on the metal. She would have jumped on it to make him turn away from the girl. He whirled, fists clenched.

      “Hey! That’s my car.” Slurring the words, he flailed his arms, to reach for India.

      But she bowed her body out of his reach and stationed herself between him and the girl, who stood now, stunned and still.

      “Do you think you’re a big man, because you can bully a girl like this?” India sized him up at about seventeen. At least six inches taller than she, and forty pounds heavier, he was mad and drunk enough to be plenty mean. She didn’t dare break her gaze from his to check on the girl.

      Completely unintimidated, he marched toward India, his fists again at his sides. “Who are you?”

      “The woman you’ll have to go through to get to her.” She braced her hands on her hips and hoped the girl stayed behind her. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, India waited for him to strike—and for instincts that had dragged her this far to tell her what to do next.

      The boy stopped. “You don’t know her. You don’t belong here. Who are you?”

      “We’ve covered that. Where are your parents? Do they know about you?”

      “Know what about me?” He stumbled forward. “You hit my car.”

      Backing into the girl, India eased her away from the car. She risked a quick glance inside. No keys on the seat. She couldn’t see the ignition.

      “Go home.” India pretended she wasn’t afraid. “Before this girl’s friends bring the police back. And next time, pick on someone your own size.”

      “I’ll—” Before he could say what he planned to do, a man appeared out of darkness.

      “Keep your filthy hands off my daughter.” He hauled the boy around to face him. With his fists full of the kid’s collar, the man studied the girl behind India. “Colleen, are you hurt?”

      India stiffened. Her heart lodged in the back of her throat. Go now. Run, before she sees you.

      Somehow, she couldn’t move.

      “Colleen!”

      “I’m fine, Dad.” The girl edged around India, her voice a young echo of India’s mother’s. Rachel sang like an angel. She sang lullabies her grandchild would never hear. And this child spoke with Rachel’s voice.

      India wobbled. Plaid skirt and purple hair brushed into a thick cap. The girl who’d served Mick the glass of pink punch.

      More than one Colleen might live on Arran Island.

      India stared at the man. Strong and inflexible as granite, from wide, high cheekbones to the dent in his chin, his face softened as he searched his daughter for injury.

      “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” Her father, he had the right to stay and make sure. He would take her home and comfort her—and hopefully talk to her about boys who drank too much and threatened young girls.

      Before Colleen could answer, her friends slipped through the cars to surround her with tears and relief. She collapsed into their arms, instead of in her father’s.

      Why? Teenaged angst? Or something deeper, some problem that might motivate a young woman to look up to a boy like Colleen’s bad choice.

      India lifted her hand to the girl with the fuzzy purple hair. More than one Colleen might live on Arran Island, but she doubted it. She took one step backward and then two more. Before anyone noticed her again, she faded into the darkness.

      CHAPTER TWO

      INDIA GLANCED FROM the adjoining door to her father’s room, to the old beige phone on the bureau. For the first time in years, she craved the comfort of her mother’s serenity. She dialed.

      Her mother picked up on the first ring. India broke into her hello. “I saw her, Mom, but she’s in trouble.”

      “I should have come with you, too.” Through the telephone lines, Rachel Stuart’s voice sounded tinny and far away and too much like Colleen’s.

      “She has purple hair, and a boy tried to drag her into his car. I think he’s her boyfriend. If I hadn’t stopped him, he would have hurt her.”

      “Her boyfriend?” Rachel squeaked.

      “What kind of parents let their daughter date a boy like that? She’s not old enough to date. Even I know she’s not old enough. Maybe I know better than anyone.”

      Rachel’s response came more slowly. “Daughters sometimes do things their parents don’t know about.”

      India tightened her hand on the phone. “How am I supposed to answer that? I don’t want to hurt you, but I have to hope Jack and Mary Stephens are more suspicious than you and Dad.”

      “So do I, but don’t leap to conclusions. Wait awhile.”

      Impatient with the same Zen-like acceptance Rachel had shown her in similar straits, India lashed out. “I don’t plan to use this as an excuse to announce I’m her mother, but I hope her real parents won’t give her the freedom to hang herself.”

      Rachel’s silence lengthened. Finally СКАЧАТЬ