The Trouble with J.J. Page 11

  He nodded, looking down at his bare feet on the powder-blue rug. “They were broadsided on the driver’s side. There was a lot of blood …” He swore softly. “I’d give anything for Alyssa not to have been in that car. I’d give anything to make the nightmares go away.”

  He turned his head to watch his daughter sleep. Genna thought he looked almost as vulnerable as Alyssa. This is the same man who was so strong and sure making love with you not two hours ago, she reminded herself. Her heart ached with love for him. She thought back to what he’d said about them being a team and team players sticking up for each other. She wanted to offer him support now, as he had done for her.

  “You handled it really well,” she said, meaning it.

  “I do my best,” he said with a sigh, wishing his best were good enough. Would Simone Harcourt’s best be better? Or would she leave Alyssa alone at night to face the “bad dream” herself?

  The trouble had been brewing for three days. Genna had seen it coming, had sensed the tension in the air, but had thought of no way to defuse the bomb.

  Beginning the morning after the nightmare, Jared’s darling daughter had turned into a tiny tyrant—but only with Jared. She cheerfully obeyed Bernice and Genna, but defied her father at every turn. If he wanted a meal, she wasn’t hungry. If he said it was day, she said it was night. She unfailingly did the exact opposite of what Jared asked of her. Where he was concerned, Alyssa was the most contrary creature on earth.

  At first Jared let it slide. It was simply a bad mood on Alyssa’s part. As the days passed and the mood seemed only to worsen, he began losing his patience. Genna watched helplessly as he became more confused and hurt and frustrated by his daughter’s behavior. She had a pretty good idea what the root of the problem was, but Jared didn’t want to hear advice on the subject. He was so determined to be a good father, he viewed the need for advice as a weakness on his part. So Genna forced herself to stand on the sidelines and wait for the battle.

  Meanwhile, they worked on Jared’s house. Pictures were hung, a dining room table and chairs purchased. A new set of china filled the shelves of the cupboard, along with crystal. Jared’s football trophies and photos were put in an oak and glass cabinet near his desk in the spacious living room.

  Genna tried to involve Jared as much as she could in making selections for the house. After all, it was his home. Even though he had asked her to do the job, she found herself feeling guilty about making the changes necessary to give Jared and his house a normal look. Jared’s bizarre outfits and decorating ideas were part of who he was. Did anyone else really have the right to tell him to act otherwise? Still, it was his money, and he seemed sincere about changing his lifestyle.

  “The mannequin has got to go,” Genna said for the third time. She and Jared stood on the front porch arguing about lawn beauty. Having convinced him to get rid of most of the flamingos, she had held off on the issue of Candy, but Candy’s day had come.

  “Aw, come on, Gen! Candy and I have been together since college!”

  Genna just looked at him, crossing her arms over her chest and impatiently tapping her sneakered foot. Jared tried staring her down, but she was, after all, a teacher—one of the world’s greatest stare-down artists. He glanced away, then back at her, a stirring of desire reminding him it had been too long since their first night together. She was so darn cute when she had that stubborn little tilt to her chin. She wore a pair of jeans that were almost white with age and carefully patched. They molded to her body as if they were in love with her. And she wore the same old navy polo shirt she’d had on the night they’d made out on her kitchen floor.

  He looked from Genna to Candy, who sat on her lawn chair with her hands in her lap, her head tilted as if she were listening to them argue her fate. Dammit, he liked the mannequin. This “being normal” business was getting on his nerves. If he wanted a mannequin on his front porch, why shouldn’t he be able to have one? She wasn’t hurting anybody.

  “Maybe she could wear something more sedate,” he suggested. He regarded Candy with a critical eye. “Picture her in a soft, flowered dress. Something very feminine. And a big straw hat maybe.”

  “She would still be a mannequin.”

  “But a very nicely dressed one.”

  “Normal people don’t keep mannequins on their porches.”

  Jared scowled, looking at the houses down the block. “Theron Ralston has a yard jockey,” he accused derisively.

  “Theron Ralston is a bigot,” Genna said. “He is also on the school board, and I can tell you right now what he’ll say about a man who wears an earring and keeps a mannequin on his porch. He’ll say you’re a homosexual Communist on drugs.”

  “Well, it’s none of his damn business anyway,” Jared groused, patting Candy fondly on top of her blond wig.

  “No, it’s not,” Genna agreed. “But you hired me to do a job and I’m doing it. Impossible as it may seem at times, you are going to have the outward appearance of being a normal person when I’m through.” She frowned at the black T-shirt that clung to his muscular torso. A hog rode a Harley-Davidson above the words BORN TO BE WILD. “Candy goes,” she said firmly. “I don’t care where, as long as she’s out of my sight.”

  Jared’s eyes suddenly glittered with devilment and he slid an arm around Genna’s waist, his smile wreaking havoc with her pulse. “Tell the truth, Teach. You’re jealous.”

  “Of a mannequin?” She gave him a look. “That’s sick, Hennessy.”

  “Don’t worry, honey,” he went on. “It’s purely platonic between Candy and me.”

  “I certainly hope so,” she said dryly, “or you’re going to need more than my help to become normal.”

  Chuckling like a maniac, Jared pinched her bottom and danced away from her halfhearted swing at him. He hopped off the porch onto the sidewalk, “If I get Candy off the porch, can I have another flamingo?”

  “Absolutely not. Who do I look like, Monte Hall?”

  A lump of black dirt landed on Jared’s Nikes. His teasing smile vanished as his eyes landed on Alyssa, who sat digging up the soil around a shrub with a shovel from her sandbox.

  “Alyssa, what are you doing?”

  Genna bit her lip at the hard edge of impatience in Jared’s voice. His frayed temper was dangerously close to snapping. The mutinous look on Alyssa’s face gave Genna the sick feeling that the showdown was about to take place.

  “Digging,” Alyssa snapped, not looking up from her task.

  “You can’t dig in the yard.” Jared reined in his anger and tried more gently. “Why don’t you go dig in your sandbox?”

  “I hate it!”

  She might as well have slapped him. Genna thought. Jared had spent a whole day lovingly slaving over building that sandbox, and Alyssa knew it. She was deliberately lashing out at him, and emotionally, it didn’t matter that she was only five and he was thirty, her words still hurt him.

  Jared went pale. A muscle worked furiously in his jaw. It took every ounce of willpower Genna had to keep from intervening. She loved them both and hated to see either suffer, but she knew this had to come to a head.

  “Alyssa, go to the backyard,” he said in a tight voice.

  “No.”

  “Alyssa, go to—”

  Splat. More black dirt crumbled over his shoes.

  “Alyssa Hennessy,” Jared said menacingly, yanking his daughter to her feet. “Go to your room.”

  Alyssa wriggled out of his grasp. She threw her shovel at him and yelled, “No!”

  “Do it, Alyssa!” He took one threatening step in her direction, and Alyssa burst into tears and made a beeline for Genna’s house.

  Jared wheeled around and watched her go, his chest heaving, his face red. Methodically, he bent and scooped up the dirt at his feet, his hands squeezing it into a hard ball. Genna flinched as he swore viciously, then turned and flung the ball of dirt down the street, narrowly missing the Ralstons’ yard jockey and sending Mrs Ralston’s poodle, Clyde, shriek
ing for the shelter of their porch. Jared didn’t even spare Genna a glance as he yanked open the screen door and stormed into his house.

  Seconds later Bernice came out looking as if she’d seen a ghost. She leaned back against the screen, her generous bosom working like a bellows, her arms spread wide at her sides as if to keep a monster from coming out the door.

  “You okay, Bernice?” Genna asked.

  “Oh—oh—sure, honey,” she puffed. “I’m not taking any chances is all. I think maybe I’ll go bowling or something.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Better than staying here and getting my head handed to me.” She eased away from the door, casting a nervous glance over her shoulder. “Maybe you can get the boss to go out for dinner. Or just toss him some raw meat through the door.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Bernice. I’ll take care of him. He just needs some time alone.”

  Genna slipped quietly into her kitchen and went in search of the source of all the commotion. Alyssa was kneeling on the carpet with her face on Genna’s love seat, crying her heart out. Without a word Genna sat down and reached her arms out to Jared’s daughter. They were filled immediately.

  “I want my mommy!” Alyssa sobbed over and over.

  “I know you do, honey,” Genna said, idly stroking the girl’s black tresses. “I know you miss her, baby.”

  “I want her to come back from heaven. Make her come back!”

  Genna’s heart twisted. This wasn’t the kind of lesson a little one should have to learn. “I’m sorry, it doesn’t work like that, Lyss. I wish it did. Are you angry with her for going to heaven?”

  The little head bobbed against Genna’s breast as the sobs came harder.

  “I understand that, honey. You don’t have to feel bad. But you know your mommy wouldn’t have left you if she’d had a choice. I’m sure she loved you very much.”

  “I miss her.”

  “I know.”

  For a long while they sat silently, Genna giving Alyssa time to cope with the feelings that had been building inside her like a head of steam.

  “I love my daddy,” Alyssa whispered, sniffling.

  Genna handed her a tissue and hugged her close. “He knows that, baby. He loves you too. But you know you hurt his feelings, don’t you?”

  Alyssa nodded, the tears coming again. “I’m naughty. He’s angry and he won’t want me to be his little girl anymore.”

  “No, honey, that’s not true,” Genna assured her. “You’ll have to tell him you’re sorry, but he’ll forgive you. And I know for sure he’ll always want you to be his little girl.”

  Eventually Alyssa ran out of tears and misgivings, and fell asleep in Genna’s arms. Genna laid her on the love seat, ignoring the child’s dirty knees and sneakers, and covered her bare legs with a quilt.

  The afternoon sky had grown dark with the prospect of a shower, and the living room was cloaked in cool shadows, but Genna didn’t turn on any lamps. As the rain began, she went to the kitchen to work off some of her own frustrations by baking a cake. When that task was finished she sat down on the couch across from Alyssa, curling her legs under her like a cat, and waited.

  It wasn’t long before Jared walked in the back door. His hair was damp. Raindrops had made dark spots on his T-shirt and jeans. The cold gray light that seeped in through the windows fell on the drawn lines of his face. He looked as if he’d just lost his last and best friend. The mischief that usually filled his blue eyes had been replaced with an unbelievable anguish. He said nothing, didn’t seem to notice Genna curled up on the couch.

  She watched him as he stood gazing down at his daughter. He looked as if a terrible war raged inside him and he was terrified of the outcome. He reached out once toward the sleeping child, but his hand fell back to his side like a marionette’s whose string had been cut.

  After a moment he turned and wandered around the living room, stopping in front of a curio cabinet that sat against the far wall below the stairs. He stood staring at the cabinet with its collection of porcelain animals, his eyes traveling across each shelf, taking in horses, sheep, dogs, rabbits. Genna went to sit on the third step so he would know she was there for him when he was ready to talk.

  “I don’t know,” he said at last, his voice huskier than usual. “I—I’m trying so hard to be a good father to her.”

  “You are a good father to her.”

  “Oh, yeah?” he asked with a caustic laugh, still not looking at Genna. “Then how come I feel like a louse? How come I never know the right thing to say or do, and I always seem to blow it when it counts?”

  Maybe everything had always come too easily for him, Jared thought. He’d never known what it was to struggle for something he really wanted. His profession came naturally to him; all the moves came instinctively. Now he wanted more than anything to be a good father and he had no idea how to go about it. He didn’t have a clue about what he was doing wrong. It was as if he suddenly couldn’t read a defense, his line was crumbling around him, and he was left holding the ball and not knowing what to do with it.

  Maybe he just wasn’t cut out to be a father.

  Maybe he didn’t have it.

  Maybe Alyssa would be better off with her aunt.

  He flinched as a hand settled on his arm. Genna’s hand.

  “You’re a very good father to Alyssa, Jared,” she said, gently leading him back to the couch, where they both sat down. “You’re just not much of a mother.”

  Now his brain was starting to dysfunction. He stared at Genna, bemused.

  “Listen,” Genna said, tucking her bare feet under her Indian-style. “Alyssa just lost her mother. She’s afraid, hurt, angry. That’s a big load for a five-year-old to handle. On top of that, she’s gone from being cared for by a woman to being cared for by a man. There’s a big difference, in case you hadn’t noticed.

  “You’re doing a good job. Maybe you’re a little too lenient—”

  He scowled immediately at the insinuation, but his look softened just as quickly. “Do you think I spoil her?”

  “Just a little.” Genna smiled gently.

  “I guess I do. It’s just that I’ve hardly had any time with her and I like buying her presents and stuff.” He took a sudden interest in his fingernails as he added. “And I want her to like me.”

  Genna looked from father to sleeping daughter and back. “Lyssa loves you, Jared. She just needs a little time to adjust. You both do.”

  The sense of what she was saying managed to sink into Jared’s befuddled brain. He gave her a feeble smile. “How’d you get to be so damn smart?”

  “Psych minor,” she nodded, letting her own smile coax his to blossom.

  He grinned. “Is that gonna cost me extra, Teach?”

  “I’ll put it on your bill.”

  The grin melted away and his look was one of pure need as he reached out to her. “Put this on the bill too, will you? I need a hug.” He pulled her into his arms, pressing his head to her shoulder as she kneeled unsteadily on the couch.

  “I got another letter from Simone’s lawyer today,” he said, holding her tighter. “They’re going ahead with the suit. They think they can prove I’m not fit to keep Lyssa.”

  “Oh, Jared,” she said with a sigh, cursing the unseen woman whose timing couldn’t have been worse.

  “What if I’m not?” came his tortured whisper.

  “You listen to me, Jared Jay Hennessy,” Genna said in her sternest teacher voice, pushing him back so she could glare at him. “You may be a little offbeat—okay, a lot offbeat—but I can’t name one man who’d make a better father to that little girl. Now get that through your thick head.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, smiling, though his eyes glistened with tears, as did Genna’s. He laughed. “Geez, I think we’re gonna cry.”

  They both laughed at that, stray tears spilling over their boundaries. Then Jared pulled Genna to him in a crushing embrace, burying his face in her hair. “Oh, Gen, I’m so scare
d of losing her.”

  “You won’t lose her,” she whispered, praying she was right.

  With a supreme effort Jared blinked away the tears that had threatened, then sniffed, raising his head. He sat back, his face taking on the keen look of a hound on a scent, and murmured three words, “Apple spice cake.”

  “With apple frosting.”

  “Oh, wow.”

  Grinning, Genna went to the kitchen and returned minutes later with a tray of cake and tumblers of milk, to find Jared stretched out on the couch directly across from his daughter, sound asleep. Smiling, she went back to the kitchen to start supper.

  EIGHT

  “HOLY HANNAH!” AMY wailed. “You’re still baking!”

  “Good morning, Amy,” Genna said sweetly without looking up from her task at the kitchen counter.

  “What’s he done now?” She maneuvered her pudgy body onto a stool at the counter.

  “Who?” Genna refused to take the bait. This wasn’t Jared’s fault. Not directly anyway. His news that Simone Harcourt was going ahead with the custody suit had upset her more than she cared to say. How did the woman think she could prove Jared was an unfit parent? That question had nagged at the back of her mind since Jared had told her about this latest letter.

  “Who? Houdini,” Amy said sarcastically, popping open the can of diet Coke she’d brought along. “Who do you think?”

  “Can’t imagine.”

  “What are you making?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Christmas cookies.”

  “It’s the middle of summer!”

  “Think of all the spare time I’ll have at Christmas.”

  “Yeah, you’ll have all kinds of spare time when they lock you up at the funny farm.”

  The back door banged open, saving Genna from any more of Amy’s observations. “Delivery for Genna Hastings.”

  “Doesn’t anybody knock anymore?” Genna questioned as she wiped her hands on a dishtowel and pinned the delivery boy with a look. Then her eyes fell on the vase in his hands. It was a delicate milk-glass vase with a ruffled edge, and it was overflowing with violets and baby’s breath.