Her Mother's Shadow (16 page)

“Unattached,” she said. “And although I'm happy with that status, it makes the idea of raising someone else's child even more daunting.”

“Yeah, I bet.” He was quiet, and she could almost hear him thinking through the next step of this conversation. “So look, Lace,” he said. “I don't have much money, but if she's really mine—”

“She's yours.”

“If she's mine,” he said again, “I'll help. Can I meet her?”

“I think I should talk to her about it first,” she said. “I'm really not sure what the best course of action is. If she wants to meet you, and you're willing, then I'll call you and we can figure out what to do next.”

“Fair enough,” he said.

“I'll talk to her tomorrow,” she said. “That is, if she's in a decent mood.”

“Sounds like you might have to settle for half-decent,” he said.

Lacey laughed. “You're right,” she said. “And thanks for…for being so easy about this.”

He hesitated. “You don't think much of me, do you?” he asked.

It was her turn to be silent. “I don't know what to think, Bobby,” she said.

“Right.”

“I'll call you after I talk to her,” Lacey said.

“Okay. And Lacey?”

“Yes?”

“I'm sorry if I hurt you in any way that summer.”

She got off the phone, and to her surprise, began to cry.

B
obby sat with the phone in his lap for a long time after hanging up with Lacey, a numbness settling over him as he replayed the conversation in his mind. He reached for the pack of Marlboros on the broad worktable, set up in what was supposed to be his dining room, and shook one of the cigarettes into his hand. He lit it, inhaled deeply and let the smoke out of his mouth in a long, slow stream.

Lacey O'Neill. He remembered how she had chopped off her beautiful, if out-of-control, red hair that summer. Chopped it off to within an inch of her scalp and then dyed it jet black. Yet every time he'd looked at her with that short, dark mop on her head, his mind had painted in the missing red hair. That's how much that long hair had been part of her: he could see it even when it wasn't there. He should have asked her what she looked like now. Was her hair long, or did she still try to hide who she was with dye and scissors?

And Jessica Dillard. Very young. A petite blond seductress. How easily a seventeen-year-old boy could be seduced. Although he'd always found Lacey's personality and big
blue eyes and deep dimples more engaging than Jessica's sultry looks and provocative nature, Lacey's quiet fragility had scared him off. He'd made love to her once, if you could call deflowering a virgin on the beach making love. It had hurt her, that much he remembered. She'd yelped in pain and he'd stopped, but she told him to keep on going. He knew she wasn't having any fun, that she just wanted him to get it over with, but he was too far gone to get into a long discussion about the matter. He'd finished what he started and the very next night, turned to her best friend, who didn't seem to have a fear in the world, who did not yelp, who liked to wrap her body around his, her blond hair splayed out on the sand. Jessica had been an animal, bucking beneath him. They'd done it every which way. Most of the time with a condom. Some of the time without. What a goddamned asshole he'd been.

Sometimes you looked back at the person you once were and wanted to throw up. He'd tried so hard to hide from the past, but every now and then, a reminder would pop up that he just couldn't shake. Like Lacey's phone call. Like a child she said was his.

With a sigh, he set the phone back on the corner of the table, then reached for the piece of mammoth ivory he'd been working on when the call had come. The ancient piece of ivory, now plain and smooth and off-white, would become a belt buckle decorated with a delicate color portrait of three beloved dogs, a gift from one of his customers to her husband. It was going to be beautiful, and it would take him weeks to complete. It would also cost the woman a pretty penny.

He couldn't get into working on the ivory, though. He would mess it up if he tried now. He took another drag on his cigarette and looked through the dining room window.
His view was of the alley behind his small house, and beyond the alley, the garage of one of his neighbors, the one with the dog that barked and snarled at him every time he took his garbage out.

A year ago he'd wanted a kid so badly he just about cried every time Claudia got her period. They'd been trying for nearly three years, and if they'd succeeded he would have married her and they would have made a go of it. He tried not to let his disappointment show, but she knew how much he longed for a child. Someone to pour his love into. Someone to raise better than he had been raised. He would correct all the mistakes his parents had made.
Mackenzie.
Funny name for a girl. It made him smile. So, she was belligerent and obstinate and all those other negative adjectives Lacey had used to describe her. She was still a real, living, breathing child in need of a father.

But he was as sure as he could be that she was not his.

M
ackenzie was eyeing the CDs in the window of the music store when Lacey came up behind her. She'd just tossed three bags of new clothes for the girl into the car but knew they weren't done shopping yet.

“Would you like to get a couple of CDs?” she asked.

“Where's the CD player?” Mackenzie kept her gaze on the store window.

“There's one in the living room, but maybe you should have a boom box for your room. What do you think?”

“I think yes,” Mackenzie said. “Could we go in here and get one?”

“Go on in and get a few CDs, and then we can go to Kmart. The boom boxes will be cheaper there.”

“How many can I get?” Mackenzie asked.

“Four,” Lacey said. “I'll sit out here and you can come get me when you're ready to pay, okay?”

“'Kay.” Mackenzie walked into the store, and Lacey sat down on a bench. She was wiped out. Her legs ached and when she looked down at her pale, freckled arms, they
looked flabby to her. She hadn't made it to the gym since Mackenzie's arrival, and she wasn't sure when she would be able to go again. Until a year ago, she'd liked to go to the gym in the afternoon or evening, when it was filled with young singles and she could easily meet guys. These days, though, she liked to go very early in the morning, when only the truly serious exercisers were present and she was safe from temptation. Now she would have to figure out when the mothers went to the gym and join their ranks.

She and Mackenzie had spent the entire morning shopping in the outlet stores. Lacey was handing over her credit card with abandon, but that could not continue. This was a special shopping trip, she told herself. Mackenzie's boxes of clothing and other paraphernalia had not yet arrived from Phoenix, and she needed new clothes and a few other things to help her begin to feel at home.

Money was going to be a problem. Nola had given Lacey two hundred dollars to use on this shopping spree, but she would have to ask her for more. She would need a regular infusion of money if she was going to be able to take care of Mackenzie above the poverty line. But she couldn't talk to Nola about this yet. Despite her ambivalence about wanting custody of Mackenzie, Nola was still smarting over Jessica's guardianship decision, and Lacey thought it politic to wait a while longer before broaching the subject of a monthly stipend for the girl. There was Bobby, of course, but even if he was willing to help, it didn't sound like he would have much to offer monetarily.

Living in the keeper's house had been a blessing, Lacey thought, since there had been no rent involved—only the responsibility of helping with the restoration. Next year, though, she would have to find a rental and go back to the real world. Her income was sufficient to meet her own mod
est needs, but not those of a child. Mackenzie had inherited the few thousand dollars that had been in Jessica's savings account and she would inherit about ten thousand dollars when the condo sold, but that money should go into a college savings account.

They had spent much of the morning in the GAP outlet, with Mackenzie wanting every belly-button-exposing outfit she tried on. “I need to get my navel pierced,” she said, as if she was talking about her need for water or sunshine, and Lacey almost told her that she had a pierced navel herself. She longed to make Mackenzie see that she was not a pathetic old spinster, but the time didn't seem right.

After the GAP, they visited most of the stores on the strip, and Mackenzie's conflicted, preadolescent needs and desires were much in evidence. She wanted stuffed animals, and Lacey let her pick out a teddy bear and a dog for her room. She wanted a small glass horse. She wanted games for her computer. And she wanted nail polish and necklaces. Lacey bought her nearly everything she asked for, as if she could make up for the loss of a mother by giving her material possessions.

Mackenzie opened the door of the record store and poked her head outside. “Ready,” she said, and Lacey walked inside to hand over her credit card once again.

“Let's get something to eat and then we'll stop at Kmart on the way home,” she said, as they left the store and walked toward the car. Her plan for the morning had been to take Mackenzie shopping, then, over lunch, tell her about her conversation with Bobby. She had no idea how Mackenzie would respond to the fact that she'd spoken with her father.

It took them a while to decide where to have lunch, but Mackenzie finally agreed that Taco Bell would be all right. “In Phoenix, though, I would
never
go to Taco Bell,” she said
as they pulled into the restaurant's parking lot. “But since there's hardly any other Mexican food here, I guess it's the only choice.”

“Maybe we can make some Mexican food at home one of these nights,” Lacey suggested, but Mackenzie was already out of the car and hearing range.

Inside the restaurant, they carried their trays of food to a table near the front window. As soon as they'd sat down, Mackenzie reached into her purse for her cell phone.

“No,” Lacey said, for what seemed like the first time that day. She shook her head at the cell phone. “Please put that away,” she said. “I want to talk to you.”

“I don't want to talk,” Mackenzie said. “I mean, I want to talk to my friends on the phone, but—”

“Not now,” Lacey said. “I have something important to discuss with you.”

“What?” She lowered the phone to her lap and began unwrapping her taco.

“I've spoken with your father.”

“What?”
Mackenzie's hands froze on the taco. Her eyes were huge.

Lacey nodded. “I contacted him. He'd like to meet you.”

“No
way.
” Mackenzie shook her head violently.

“Why not?”

“Because he's a jerk.”

She wondered what, if anything, Jessica had told her daughter about Bobby. “Why do you say that?” she asked.

Mackenzie lifted the taco toward her mouth, but set it down again without taking a bite. “My mother said he was not the least bit interested in me,” she said.

“He didn't know about you. She never let him know.”

“He knew and he didn't care.”

“No, Mackenzie, he had no idea. I'm sorry, but if your
mother told you that she'd told him about you, she was…” She could hardly say that Jessica had lied to her. “She was probably trying to protect you, because she was afraid that if she
did
tell him, he might not care.”

“She said he was a big loser, that it was probably good that he didn't want to see me.”

“You know what?” Lacey said with a nod. “She's right that he was a big loser when she knew him. And I was a big loser back then, too.”

Mackenzie looked unsurprised by that revelation and Lacey rushed on, wanting to avoid the girl's inevitable retort:
You're still a big loser.
“And so was your mother,” she added.

“Don't you dare say that.” There was fire in Mackenzie's eyes.

“We were
all
young and stupid and just trying to figure out how to get by in life,” Lacey said. “Just like you're doing. Eventually, we grew up and got our acts together.”

“I totally know how to get by,” Mackenzie said. “And my mother was never a loser.”

“Define loser, then,” Lacey said.

“Someone who has no life.”

“And what does that mean, exactly?” Lacey pressed her.

“You know, they don't have anything going for them. They use drugs or drink or do stupid things.”

Maybe she was overstepping herself here, but she didn't bother to stop. “That defines me and your mother and Bobby. But it was a phase we were going through.”

Mackenzie frowned. “My mother never used drugs.”

“Maybe not,” Lacey lied. “But she did make some stupid choices. Just like I did. And like all our friends did.”

“That's his name? Bobby?”

Lacey nodded.

“What a dork.”

“You know.” Lacey looked down at her untouched burrito. “Ultimately it doesn't matter what you think. You can't change who your father is, so maybe you could try being grateful that he'd like to get to know you.”

“Where does he live?”

“In Richmond, Virginia. That's about four hours away. He could come here to meet you. You wouldn't have to go there.”

Mackenzie played with her taco, picking up shreds of cheese that had fallen onto her tray and sticking them back in the shell as a silence stretched between them. “I don't want him to come,” she said.

“It's your choice,” Lacey said. “You don't have to meet him if you don't want to.”

“Good.” Mackenzie wrapped up the taco and left it on the tray. “Can I talk on my phone now?”

Lacey acquiesced, exhausted from the simple conversation. She guessed Bobby would be relieved to hear that Mackenzie was not up for a visit from him. Maybe someday he and his daughter could meet, but not now. Mackenzie had been poisoned against him, and perhaps that was just as well. But she felt the sting of disappointment, not over losing any possible financial or moral support from Bobby, but over the lost chance to see him once again.

They stopped at Kmart, where Mackenzie found a boom box. Lacey picked up some paper goods, while Mackenzie disappeared into some other part of the store. Her cart filled with boom box, paper towels and toilet paper, Lacey walked through the store looking for her. She turned the corner of the cosmetic aisle just in time to see Mackenzie slip something into the pocket of her shorts.
Damn.
She pushed the cart down the aisle toward her, and Mackenzie glanced up,
quickly covering a look of surprise with a false smile. “I'm ready to go,” she said, turning away from the cosmetics and heading away from Lacey.

Lacey stopped pushing the cart right where Mackenzie had been standing. “Put it back, Mackenzie,” she said.

Mackenzie turned to look at her. “What?” All innocence. Jessica had mastered that same look at an even earlier age.

“Whatever you just slipped into your pocket,” Lacey said. “Put it back.”

“You were
spying
on me?” Mackenzie looked indignant.

“You were pretty obvious,” she said. “You're a crappy thief.”

With a sound of disgust, Mackenzie pulled the small plastic box from her pocket and hung it back on the rack. Lacey looked at the purloined item and had to laugh.

“False
eyelashes?
” she asked.

“Leave me alone.” Mackenzie turned her back on her and walked away. “Can we go now? It's almost time for
The Young and the Restless.
”

They drove home, Lacey quiet at the wheel while Mackenzie talked softly on the phone in the back seat. Lacey caught snippets of conversation. Some giggling, a sound she only heard from Mackenzie when she was on the phone. It irked her that she might be laughing about her. Overnight, Lacey had turned into someone kids made fun of.

When she pulled into the parking lot, Lacey spotted Clay standing by the dog kennel, explaining something to a woman whose two dogs stood on either side of her.

Mackenzie clicked her phone shut and sat up straight. “Golden retrievers,” she said, more to herself than to Lacey. “Is he doing that search-and-rescue training thing with them?”

Lacey nodded.

“Could I go watch?”

Mackenzie was willing to give up
The Young and the Restless
to watch Clay train dogs? In the rearview mirror, Lacey saw genuine excitement in her eyes. Although it pleased her to see Mackenzie show interest in something other than clothes and makeup and music, it was not a good idea.

She turned in her seat to look at Mackenzie. “That woman is probably paying for her lesson by the hour,” she said, “so if you went over there right now, you'd be distracting the dogs and costing her money. But why don't you talk to Clay about it tonight? Maybe he'd let you sit in on some of the lessons, since you like dogs so much.”

Mackenzie didn't answer her. She got out of the car and helped Lacey unload the trunk, then started walking toward the house with her arms full and her eyes on the dogs. Lacey followed close behind her, bags hanging from her fingertips.

When she was halfway to the house, Mackenzie turned to face her.

“I'll meet him,” she said. “That Bobby guy. I mean, if he wants to come all the way out here, I might as well.”