Читать книгу The Good Father - Diane Chamberlain - Страница 13

THE TRAILER WASN’T A PRETTY SIGHT. THE exterior was white—or at least it had been white at one time—with patches of rust and plenty of dings. It was maybe twice as long as my van and it sat on concrete blocks above the sandy soil. It was in a line of other trailers in all shapes and sizes, most of them empty now that summer was over. There was a car parked in front of the gold trailer next to ours, though—a sparkling new green VW Beetle convertible that looked out of place in a sea of grungy old trailers. I’d borrowed the money for my first week’s rent from a buddy. I hoped it wouldn’t be too long before I could pay it back, but I wasn’t optimistic.

I slid open the side door of my van and helped Bella out of her car seat.

“This is our new home, Bell,” I said. “At least for a while. Let’s go inside and explore.” Explore was the wrong word for what we’d be able to do inside a one-room trailer, but it didn’t matter. Bella stood staring up at the thing with her wide gray eyes. She’d turned four the day before and we’d had a little party for her at Franny’s with balloons and ice-cream cake and not much in the way of presents. I think Franny was actually celebrating our departure, but whatever.

“It’s not a home,” Bella said, staring at the trailer. Her lamb and pink purse were in her arms and she didn’t move from the side of the van. My mother had given her that purse for her third birthday and I was so glad Bella hadn’t lost it or the lamb in the fire. They let her hold on to something familiar. Inside the purse, she had a picture of the three of us—my mother, Bella and me—sitting on the beach around a sandcastle we’d built. She had a tiny little doll that one of the women I’d gone out with had given her. She loved that doll because it had really long, blond hair she liked to comb. And the third and final thing in her purse was a picture of Robin. Just a little headshot I’d had since we were in high school. I was glad I’d never given in to the temptation to toss it. Bella knew Robin was her mother, but that was it. Someday I planned to tell Bella all about her, though how I was going to explain why Robin didn’t want her, I had no idea.

“Well, we’re going to make it into our home,” I said now. “It’s not a house like we’re used to. It’s called a trailer and lots of people live in trailers. It’ll be an adventure for a while. Let’s go see what’s inside, okay?”

She took my hand and we climbed the steps to the door. I unlocked it and we stepped into a space so dark I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. I could smell the place, though. It had that musty, closed-up, “beach place” odor and something else I hoped had nothing to do with cats.

“I can’t see anything, Daddy.” There was a sound in her voice that told me she was going to lose it any second. Sort of a mini-whine that only I could pick up. Even my mother never heard it, but sometimes Bella would say something and I’d whisper to Mom, “Meltdown coming,” and sure enough, five seconds later, the crying and wailing would begin. It didn’t happen much anymore, but I had the feeling it was going to happen now. My kid had been through too damn much in the past couple of weeks.

“We need to open all the shades and let in the light,” I said, prying my hand from hers to reach for one of the window shades, which I could make out only because of the line of sunlight around it. It sprang open so fast I blinked at the light pouring through the filmy glass. “That’s better!” I said. “How many windows do we have, Bella?”

She looked around the dim interior. “Three,” she said.

“I think there’s one more. Do you see it?”

She turned in a circle. “I spy!” she said when her gaze landed on the long narrow window above the kitchen sink.

“Good job!” I finished opening the shades.

Bella ran to the only inside door in the place and pulled it open. “That’s the bathroom,” I said.

“Where’s my room?” she asked.

“That’s the cool thing about this trailer,” I said. “It’s all one big room instead of separate rooms. So it’s our living room—” I pointed to the futon, then to the small table and two chairs beneath one of the windows “—and our dining room, and our kitchen, and your bedroom.” I pointed to the double bed crammed into the other end of the trailer. “You’ll sleep there and I’ll sleep on this futon.”

“What’s a futon?”

“Couch. It’s another name for a couch,” I said. “I think the first thing we should do, even before we bring in the bags with our clothes, is find a place to display your new shells.”

The people at my mother’s church had collected clothes and sheets and towels for us. They’d been so good to us that for a few days I thought I might start going back to church like when I was a kid, but the mood passed. Now I was into survival mode and I had my priorities: shelter, food, job, child care. My soul was going to have to wait.

“I want my old shells back.” The whine was there, not so little this time. A stranger would be able to pick it up now. She was tired. No nap today, and this was a kid who definitely still needed naps.

“Yeah, I wish you could have them back, but you’ll always have the memory of them.”

“I don’t want the remembery. I want them back. And Nana back, too.”

I’d told her she’d always have the memory of Nana, but I knew she wouldn’t. As she got older, she’d forget her. You didn’t remember people from when you were four. Maybe vaguely. I kept thinking about that—how my mother, who had done so much for her and who loved her more than anything, would just disappear from her memory. Whoosh! It seemed like one more unfair thing in a whole bushel of stuff that sucked.

“I’m going to get your new shells,” I said, hoping to avoid the meltdown.

“I don’t want them,” she whimpered.

I went out to the van and got the canvas bag with its lame collection of shells and carried it and the garbage bag filled with sheets and towels back into the trailer. The floor made a hollow sound when I stepped on it. This was going to take some getting used to.

Bella was curled into a ball on the futon, her lamb clutched in her arms, her lower lip jutting out in a pout that was so damn cute I had a hard time not smiling. I used to laugh when she’d pout like that until my mother said I was encouraging it. Mom said she’d turn out to be one of those girls who’d get her way with guys by acting like a pouty baby and I can tell you, that thought wiped the smile off my face. I wanted my daughter to be strong.

“Now, where’s a good place for these?” I asked, looking around the room. At home, we’d had them on the mantel above the non-working fireplace.

She was still pouting, but she sat up a little straighter and started looking around the room. I could see the only ledge in the whole place—under that long narrow kitchen window—but I waited for her to find it on her own. And she did. She hopped off the futon and ran to the sink, pointing to the window. “Up there,” she said.

“Perfect!” I handed her the bag. “You give them to me one at a time and I’ll put them up there.”

She handed me the first one, the giant gray whelk, which was clearly going to be the foundation of her new collection. It was her favorite. I put it right in the middle of the window ledge. She handed me an orange scallop shell and frowned. “The mantel was better,” she said. “There’s no room up there.”

I was kind of impressed she could figure that out. It seemed pretty smart for a four-year-old to realize there wouldn’t be enough space on that ledge as her collection grew. Mom said I had an inflated idea of her brilliance, but what did I know? She seemed smart to me. “Well, you’re right, and when we run out I think we’ll have to put some of them in a bowl, okay?”

“They’ll break.”

“Not if you’re care—”

“Knock knock!”

I turned to see a girl standing in our open doorway. The way she was silhouetted in the sunlight, I couldn’t make out her face, but her voice was unfamiliar and I was sure I didn’t know her.

“Come in,” I said, and she stepped inside. I’d definitely never seen her before. She was the sort of girl you wouldn’t forget. Twenty, maybe, and hot. Smokin’ hot. Maybe a little too skinny, but she had blond hair in a long ponytail that hung over her right breast and she was wearing just about nothing—shorts and sandals and a halter top. I felt myself go hard and had the feeling she knew it. She had one of those Let’s get it on smiles, or maybe I was just fantasizing. It had been months for me and I needed to go back and adjust that list of priorities I’d come up with.

“Hey,” she said. “I’m Savannah. Your next-door neighbor.”

“Cool.” I moved forward to shake her hand. “I’m Travis and this is Bella.” I squeezed Bella’s shoulder and she wrapped one arm around my leg, the other holding the bag of shells.

“Hey, Bella.” Savannah squatted down, giving me a really nice view of her breasts. “Welcome to the neighborhood, honey,” she said. “What do you have in the bag?”

I expected Bella to pull away from her. It usually took her a while to warm up to strangers. But instead, she opened the tote bag and let Savannah peek inside. I wondered if Savannah reminded her of the long-haired doll she carried around in her pink purse.

“Shells!” Savannah’s eyes lit up and she actually sat down on the ratty thin carpet, cross-legged, and patted the spot next to her. “Will you show me? I love shells.”

Okay, I thought. This is finally a stroke of luck. I could have gotten a trailer next door to a crazy old dude who walked around in his undershirt and had a thing for little girls. Instead I was living next to a hot girl who had a way with kids.

“The Beetle is yours?” I asked as Bella took out the rest of her shells and showed them to Savannah, one by one.

“Uh-huh.” Savannah didn’t look at me. Her attention was on Bella and she said nice things about each shell. “I’ve been living here three months and I’m glad to finally have a neighbor. I mean a real neighbor. There were plenty of people over the summer.” She rolled her eyes. “Too many. But now that the season’s over, it’s lonely here.”

“Do you … I mean, why are you living here?”

“I waitressed during the summer and I’m taking a couple of night classes now. Cosmetology. And I need a cheap place to live and this is about as cheap as it gets.”

I laughed. “Tell me about it.”

Okay, so she wasn’t a rocket scientist, but neither was I. Although at one time, I’d had higher expectations of myself. Those days were gone.

“I wanted to invite you and Bella over for dinner.” She got to her feet and dusted off her hands. “Just mac and cheese, if that’s okay.”

Bella drew in a quick breath. She was still sitting on the floor and she looked up at me with a little smile. Damn, she was cute. I grinned at her. “Mac and cheese work for you, Bella?” I asked. It was her favorite, and she nodded.

“What time?” I asked Savannah.

“Six?”

“Excellent. We’ll settle in. Maybe one of us will take a little nap.”

We exchanged phone numbers and I didn’t tell her I probably wouldn’t have my phone much longer. I hadn’t been able to pay the last bill. I thought about the magnetic signs I had on the sides of my van: Brown Construction, with my phone number below it. I wasn’t taking those signs down, no matter what. I had a thing about them. They were more than just magnetized plastic to me. My dad had had Brown Plumbing signs on the sides of his truck, and when I put my own up, I thought about how he must have felt about those signs. Proud to have his own business. Proud to have a way to support us, the way I’d supported Bella and my mom before the economy totally tanked. What use would those signs be if I had no phone, though?

Savannah’s trailer was a step up from mine, which wasn’t saying much, but you could feel a girly touch when you walked inside. First, it smelled a lot better, between the macaroni and cheese cooking and some other scent. A candle, maybe. Second, she’d put some nicer rugs on top of the old carpeting. Maybe I could do that, too, when I got some money. Third, she’d thrown this gold-striped fabric over the couch along with a bunch of pillows, and there were lamps all over the place. It just felt homey. I could see into the second room, where her bed had a bunch of pillows on it, too, and a yellow quilt. There was one thing that bugged me, though, and that was a bong sitting out on her kitchen counter. I didn’t do drugs. I was even careful with booze. Maybe I messed with it a little after things went south with Robin, but once I had a kid to raise, I cooled it. I didn’t care if Savannah smoked weed. It was no big deal, but the bong right out in the open like that with Bella there … well, I didn’t like it. But I was liking her well enough. She’d changed into a skimpy dress. No bra. She was so thin she didn’t need one, but the fabric of her dress hugged her nipples and I was having trouble keeping my eyes on her face. She’d taken her hair out of the ponytail and it was very long and gold. Smooth and silky. The kind of hair you’d see on a shampoo commercial. I wanted to touch it. Just grab a big fistful of it in my hand.

I needed to slow the hell down.

“Thanks for asking us over,” I said. “I didn’t have a chance to go to the store yet.”

“I know what moving day’s like,” she said. She reached into the fridge, pulled out a beer, uncapped it and handed it to me. “What about for Bella?” she asked. “Juice? Milk?”

“Juice,” Bella said. Usually I’d give her the milk, but tonight was a special occasion.

“Please,” I reminded Bella.

“Please,” she said.

Savannah poured some orange juice into a tall plastic cup with a cap and a straw. Perfect.

“You act like you understand kids,” I said as I settled Bella at the table with a puzzle I’d brought with me so she wouldn’t get bored. She loved puzzles and this one had Cinderella on it. She loved her princesses.

“Oh, I’ve got a slew of nieces and I volunteered in a day care for a year or so. This age—” she motioned toward Bella “—so adorable. The best. Still innocent, you know?”

I nodded, but I was thinking about what she said. She’d worked in a day care? Was there a chance I’d stumbled across not only the hottest neighbor a man could hope for but child care, as well?

Savannah pulled a bunch of salad stuff out of the refrigerator and set it on the counter, then seemed to notice the bong and quietly moved it inside one of the lower cabinets. I didn’t say a thing except, “Can I help?”

We worked together in the kitchen, talking about where we were from—me, from right there in Carolina Beach; her, from Kinston—and did a little “Do you know so and so?” but we definitely moved in different circles. I told her about the fire and she stopped chopping celery to look at me. She rested her hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Travis,” she said. She glanced at Bella, who was quietly working on her puzzle. “This must completely suck for both of you.”

I nodded. “Yeah, it does.”

She still had her hand on my shoulder and she lowered it, running it down the length of my arm, slipping her fingers into my palm. She was coming on to me. I hadn’t had any kind of long-term relationship since Bella came into my life. I didn’t want one now, either. It would just confuse things. But I could use someone to sleep with. That I couldn’t deny, and the way she’d touched me let me know she knew what she was doing. She would be as good in bed as she looked.

I focused on the lettuce to keep my wits about me. “The thing is,” I said, “I really need to get work. My final paycheck literally went up in smoke with the house. And if I find work, I need somebody to watch Bella for me. Do you know anyone who does child care?”

She shrugged with a smile. “I know me,” she said. “I’ve had experience. I told you I worked in a day care. My classes are at night and all I do all day right now is hang out. I’d love to watch her.”

“I’d pay you, of course. I mean, as soon as I get work.”

She nodded. “Not easy to find right now, huh?”

I shook my head. “Twenty guys for every job, at least,” I said.

“Well, if you find a job, you’ve got a sitter. Except …” She hesitated, taking a few more chops at the celery. “I have to go out of town sometimes. I have friends I visit in Raleigh when I don’t have class. But I could probably find someone to cover for me then.”

“Okay,” I said, thinking that I wouldn’t want to leave Bella with someone I didn’t know. But then, what did I know about Savannah herself? I should probably ask to speak to the day care where she’d worked, but I was afraid that would sound like an insult. What I knew about Savannah was that she grew up in Kinston and was taking night classes to learn how to do hair or nails or whatever and that she drank beer and smoked enough weed to have a bong on her kitchen counter. I wondered if she did anything heavier than marijuana. I’d keep an eye on how much she drank tonight. What if she had friends who hung out with her at the trailer? I didn’t want a bunch of losers hanging around Bella. I wondered if I was one of the losers now. Maybe that’s what Savannah was thinking.

“Where’s Bella’s mom?” she asked quietly as she dropped the celery into the salad bowl.

“Beaufort,” I said.

“Is she … What’s her name?”

“Robin.”

“Was she unfit or what? How come Bella’s with you?”

“It’s a long story,” I said. Robin wasn’t my favorite topic, especially not with someone I didn’t know well.

“Does Bella ever see her?”

“Sure,” I lied. It was none of her business, and the lie seemed the easiest way out of the conversation. “Want me to shred some carrots for the salad?”

“Sure.” Savannah smiled. Touched my arm. “I think Bella’s a lucky little girl to end up with you,” she said.

Over dinner, we did most of our talking to and through Bella, but beneath the table Savannah ran her bare foot up my leg. The first time, she looked at me with a question in her eyes, like “Is this okay? Are we on the same page?” and I gave her a little smile back to let her know it was as okay as it could be, even though I knew hooking up with her might be really stupid. I needed her to take care of Bella more than I needed a lover. But right then, with her foot inching closer to the inside of my thigh, I wasn’t thinking all that much about child care.

We watched a little TV with Bella after dinner, then I settled her down on Savannah’s couch. I didn’t think she’d go right to sleep. It usually took her a while, especially in a strange place, and she was used to me reading to her in bed before lights out. She’d had a ton of books that burned in the fire, but Franny’d given us The Cat in the Hat when we first moved in with her, and Bella didn’t seem to mind hearing it over and over again. Even when we were finished reading, she’d rarely just drift off. She’d ask for water or get up to tell me or my mom something that couldn’t possibly wait until morning and generally wear herself out. But the lack of a nap was working to her advantage tonight. My advantage. I covered her over and watched while she sank into a deep sleep, and as I tucked the light blanket tighter over her shoulders, Savannah leaned over and nuzzled my neck.

I stood up and put my arms around her. “Listen,” I said. “I’m not ready for anything ser—”

“Shh.” She kissed me. “I don’t care about serious,” she said. “I’m all about living in the present moment.” She took my hand and we walked into her bedroom and, for a couple of hours, I forgot about the fire and my lack of a job and just about everything except my body and hers.