Georgia's Daddy (16 page)

“I have.”

“For how long, exactly?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “It’s kind of something I’ve always wanted to do. Only, before… before I met you, it just felt like a dream. Now…” He gave her shoulder another squeeze. “Now I can actually see it.”

“I see.” Georgia turned back to look at the fenced-in land once more and smiled. “I think I can see it too.”

* * *

At first, it seemed like a dream. The room was hot. The smell of smoke tickled his nose. He tried to open his eyes, but they seemed stuck together in sleep. It had been such a long day and his alarm hadn’t gone off yet. He just needed a few more minutes to rest. Just a few more. He turned over in bed and tried to get comfortable, but the room felt so humid that it was hard. He threw the blankets off and groaned. Was it his imagination, or was he sweating? He must be dreaming.

Then he heard his name: “Samuel!” It was a long, frail scream that had him bolting up in bed. He hadn’t been dreaming—that was smoke curling in through his closed bedroom door. He looked around wildly, but didn’t see any fire. Still, he rolled off the bed, crouched on the floor and crawled to the door. He touched the wooden frame. It was still cool. His fingers reached for the knob, which was thankfully still cool to the touch. Thank God.

“Samuel?”

He threw the door open and rushed out, noting the thick haze of smoke in the room. “Gran! Stay right there, I’m coming!” He was on his way, until he saw that the smoke was coming from the kitchen. A quick investigation showed that the stove was on fire. He couldn’t make out what had started it, but hoping that he could put it out himself, he rushed in. He picked up a skillet cover hanging on one of the hooks on the kitchen wall and began covering the flames best as he could, hoping to smother them. It seemed to be working, but unbeknownst to him in his efforts, flame had begun to lick at the sleeve of his flannel shirt. The kitchen itself was so hot that the fire had climbed up his arm before he noticed it.

“Damn!” he swore.

“Samuel! Samuel, did you say somethin’? Are you all right?”

Sam acted quickly, flipping on the faucet and shoving his arm underneath. The running water quickly doused the fire on his shirt and he breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, Gran, just a sec!” Now that the flames that had latched to his shirt had been put out, he intended to go back to the stove, but as soon as the thought crossed his mind, the damn smoke detectors began to blare and shriek. Too little, too late.

Sam rushed down the hall to where his grandmother was waiting for him, her arms full. “Gran!” he yelled over the noise. “Let’s get out of here!”

“I already called 911,” she yelled back.

He shook his head as he took her by the arm and led her from the house. The woman was really something. “What is all that?” he asked once they’d made it outside.

“Oh, just the essentials. Your grandfather’s Bible, the family wedding album. Your first tooth.”

“Well, you sure gathered all that up in a hurry. It probably would have been better to just get out of the house,” he scolded mildly.

“Oh, hush. I keep all of them at the top of my closet, just in case.”

“In case of a
fire
?”

“Well, yes, of course.” She looked at him like
he
was the daft one. “You never know. These things are irreplaceable. This wedding album, it has pictures from the last four generations’ weddings. I
had
saved a few pages for you, but at this rate…”

“I’m not really sure now’s the time.”

“Of course not.”

Just then, he heard the blare of sirens moments before he saw the red firetruck pull up. Whipping out his phone, he sent Georgia a quick text just in case she saw the flashing lights.

* * *

She’d been in a panic ever since she’d gotten Sam’s text. She hadn’t, in fact, seen the lights, but she’d read his text, bleary-eyed and half-awake. Once the words had registered, however, she’d popped right out of bed, suddenly fully functional. She’d sprinted out of her room in her nightgown to see that her dad was awake and at the window, peering out.

“Did the sirens wake you?”

“No, but Sam just sent a text…”

He looked up at her, clearly reading what she wasn’t saying in her panicked face. “Come on. I’ll drive.”

Even though it was hardly a five-minute drive, Georgia spent the entire time leaning forward as though she could make the car go faster by sheer willpower. When they pulled into the driveway, the car hadn’t stopped all the way before she threw her door open and leapt out. She went running, looking for Sam. At first, she didn’t see him, and pure terror set in.

But then, when a fireman moved aside, she saw him leaning against the truck. His hand was bandaged quite a bit up to his arm. She raced toward him, throwing herself at him mere moments after he spotted her.

“Hey.”

She buried her face in him. The tears that had sprung to her eyes the moment she saw him began to break free.

“Hey, what’s this? I’m fine, Georgia. I’m fine.”

“It was my fault,” she moaned into his shirt. “All my fault.”

He gently pried her away from him so that he could look her in the eye. “What are you talking about, darlin’?”

“I… I made dinner for you last night. I forgot to turn off the oven. It’s all my fault.”

“Georgia—”

“I knew it as soon as I got your text,” she moaned. “I can’t
believe
I was so stupid. I’m so, so sorry, Sam!” She buried herself in him once again, clinging to him as for dear life.

“Shh. It’s OK, honey. I’m all right.”

“It’s
not
all right,” she objected stubbornly. “I was stupid, I was horrible. You—”

“Hey, none of that now. No one calls my baby-girl names.”

“I was! You should punish me. You should spank me until I can’t sit down for a week. You should—”

“Shh, honey. We have an audience.”

But she didn’t care. She’d done something stupid and she felt so bad that she couldn’t stand it. There was only one way to get rid of that feeling that she knew of. “You have to promise. You have to promise that you’ll give me the hardest, most awful punishment you can think of.”

“It was an accident, Georgia. Just an accident. Why don’t you go back home and rest? We can talk after you’ve had a few more hours’ sleep. After you’ve calmed down.”

“I don’t want to calm down!” She pulled away from him and stamped her foot. “I want you to stop babying me and listen!”

Sam arched his eyebrows. Normally, that would have been enough to get her to cease and desist, but not today.

“I mean it. I am tired of being treated like a kid!”

“Even when you’re acting like one?” he asked, his calm a strong contrast to her evident frustration.

She glowered at him and for a moment, the briefest of moments, she had a vision of pitching herself at him and beating her fists against his chest. She wanted him to take her seriously, damn it. Was that really so much to ask?

But instead, she turned on her heel. She was intending to march away in a fit of anger, but then he said the magic words.

“OK.”

She froze. His voice was low, but she knew she’d heard him.

“Go wait for me in the Punishment Shed. I’ll be there in a little bit.”

* * *

“Didn’t I spy Georgia with you a moment ago?” Gran asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, where she’d go off to?”

“She just needed a few minutes. She’s got it into her head that the fire was her fault.”

“Really? Whatever for?”

“I guess she forgot to turn the stove off.”

“Shoot,” his grandmother laughed. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve done that through the years. It happens. She doesn’t need to blame herself.”

“I know, Gran. I told her that.”

“Well, you just go on and tell her again. Make her believe you.”

“I’m goin’ to do my best. But Georgia can be a bit stubborn.”

“You seem to like the stubborn ones,” she said with a knowing smile. Before he could ask her to elaborate, she’d walked away.

He’d meant what he said. He didn’t blame her—it was something that could have happened to anyone, and all things considered, it had worked out pretty well. They’d have to replace an oven mitt and he’d need to have a bandage on his burn for a day or two, but he’d seen much, much worse in his volunteer firefighting. Really, they had nothing to complain about. But how was he going to get Georgia to see that?

Sam gave her plenty of time to sit and stew, hoping that it might cool off her hot temper. Then he made his way to the shed, trying to think of what he could say to salve her conscience. He’d hoped to find a repentant little girl waiting for him, but he could tell the minute that he opened the door that he had a spitfire lying in wait instead. She hadn’t gone to wait in the corner, as he’d expected. Instead, there was practically a path worn through the concrete where she’d been pacing.

The minute she turned to him, he saw her green eyes were ablaze. Stubborn indeed.

“Come here. Let’s talk this over.”

“I don’t want to talk.” She stuck out her lower lip. “I want—”

“I know what you want, Georgia, but
I
don’t follow orders. Now, come here.” He sat down on his wooden stool and waited. Her posture was tense—she was standing ramrod straight, with her fists clenched at her sides.

But finally, she exhaled a little and walked toward him. Though only a bit of her frustration seemed to fade, it was something. He patted his knee, but she shook her head. “You know, I’ve had kind of a hectic morning. Let’s not draw this out any further than we have to.”

“Fine. Then tell me where to bend over, and I’ll do it.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. He hadn’t been planning on punishing her at all—he knew she’d made an honest mistake, and if they were talking about the third time, then sure, but this was an offense he was sure she wouldn’t repeat. He’d been hoping that he could just talk her through this and cuddle her close afterward. He suspected they both needed it. But her attitude might merit a punishment after all.

“Georgia, come sit down with me.”

She gave a sharp jerk of her head and began to pace again, clenching and unclenching her fists as she went. “It’s my fault. How don’t you see that?”

“It was an accident, honey. Hell, my gran said she’d done it herself a time or two.”

“Oh, my God.” She turned to him, her green eyes shining with tears. “I… I forgot to ask. How’s Gran?”

“She’s fine, darlin’. Just fine, not a scratch on her. In fact, I suspect she enjoyed having a bit of an adventure.”

“You’re… you’re just saying that.” Her lip trembled.

“No, I’m not. I’m sure when she’s regaling her bridge club with the story next week, the flames will be two stories high.”

“Don’t try to make me smile,” she protested, smiling anyway.

“Babe, if I honestly believed that you
deserved
a spanking, don’t you think you’d be bare-assed over my lap by now?”

“But…” She let out her breath slowly, looking up at the ceiling. “What if I
need
a spanking?”

Sam considered this, and her. “All right.”

She looked at him, her expression hopeful. “Really?”

“If it’s the only thing to get you to stop blaming yourself, then yes, I’ll spank you.”

“Thank you.”

“Get the paddle from the wall. The thin, red one.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, but after a moment of hesitation, she went to obey.

Not thanking me
now,
huh?
he thought as he waited for her to return with the requested implement.

When she returned with the paddle in hand she was slightly less sulky than before. She thrust it at him, almost defiantly, and leaned over his workman bench without being told.

OK
, he told her silently.
If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.

“Pants down.”

Looking nervous for the first time since she’d demanded he punish her, Georgia slid down her pajama bottoms.

“I’m going to punish you now, honey. Do you know why?”

“Because of the fire?”

“No. I’m going to punish you because you were trying to brat your way into a spanking,” he said, holding her gaze.

Georgia’s cheeks colored slightly. “I… I just…”

“You just thought you knew better than I did. That’s why I had you get the paddle. If you really needed a spanking that badly, I would have given you one. I know you were scared and I know you felt guilty, even though you were being too hard on yourself. But if you’d just trusted me, I would have given you a spanking, one that would have been just enough to let you cry it all out. Now, instead, you get to be paddled for that sassy mouth of yours, not to mention the attitude.”

Her eyes rounded to circles. “Sam… I’m sorry. I wasn’t… I mean, I didn’t think…”

“No, you didn’t, and that’s the point. Trust is essential in any relationship, and you’ve got to learn to trust me. So if I tell you that something isn’t your fault, it isn’t. You have to trust me. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” She was looking at the paddle in his hand with more than a little apprehension now and nibbling her lower lip. It looked like the bravado his little girl had been feeling earlier had faded.

“Just like you have to trust me to be fair now.”

“Yes, Daddy.” Her voice quavered at the end and he decided it was best to get this over with. There was no point in making her stew, knowing what was coming. “Eyes forward.”

She was slower to comply this time, her nerves clearly calling the shots. But the moment she’d turned to face the wall, he rested the paddle on her right cheek. She was still wearing her panties, not that it would do much to dull the sting of this hardwood paddle. He rubbed it over her cheek a few times, giving her another moment to think about what she’d brought upon herself. Then, with a careful swing, he brought it down hard on her right buttock.

He heard her gasp but it was soon eclipsed by the loud clap of the paddle. He gave her a few moments before giving an even stroke to the left side.