Nashville.”
Tom pulled her close and squeezed her hard. “That voice of yours will be on the radio. I know it.”
“Daddy...,” Betty whispered.
“I believe in you , Darlin’.”
Phyllis scowled at the two of them, “The meatloaf is gonna be hard as a rock if you don’t stop talkin’. I opened some canned corn to round it out a little since there are three of us eatin’ and I didn’t have any warning.”
She stomped back to the refrigerator and pulled out a can of biscuits and smacked it loudly on the counter. Three sticky white discs flew apart and landed next to the pie pan. Phyllis poured some cooking oil into it and slapped the renegade three into the pan and dug seven more pieces of dough out of the cardboard tube. She threw them in and tossed the pan into the stove, slamming the door as she reached up and started the timer.
“Well, wash up and sit down. Get your plate and serve yourself from the stove when you get done. Gunsmoke is fixin’ to come on.”
Nothing ever changes around here. Somehow, the thought brought Betty comfort, followed by fear.
After the evening round of Westerns on TV, Phyllis went directly to bed. Betty sat in the quiet living room with her dad. “Daddy, I have something I need to ask you.”
“What is it?”
“Could you give me a gun?”
“Gun?”
Her breath came out in small puffs. “There are some really...ah...different people where I live.”
“So...”
She squeezed her eyes tightly closed. “Someone hurt me once.”
“Betty!”
“He beat me up pretty bad.”
“Is that all?”
She didn’t intend on telling the whole story, but it spilled out of her mouth, “Daddy he did everything to me. I couldn’t come home. You know... Mama...wouldn’t take in a girl in my condition.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry, I don’t know how to...”
“I understood that, Daddy. That is why I gave the baby up.”
“There was a baby from the attack, then.”
“Boy.”
“My grandson.” He put his gnarled hands on the black vinyl arms of the old recliner and pushed himself to his feet. He ran his twisted fingers through his graying red hair.
Betty hadn’ t thought of the child being their grandson before. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“I know.” He pu lled her off the sofa and held her in his arms. “My poor baby girl had to go through all of that alone. Forgive me for being so weak where your mama is concerned.”
“I love you, Daddy.”
He sobbed into her neck. “Don’t ever go through stuff like that alone again. Call me and I will be there...no matter what Mama says. Hear?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
Chapter 9
Bill opened the door gingerly as he turned a key dangling from a bejeweled fob in the lock. He stepped onto the threshold and held the door open for his wife, Miss Sweetie. He was prepared for her reaction of gasps and squeals as she ran the length of the large cafe dining room to the kitchen.
“It’s so clean...beautiful...yellow!” She stopped long enough to catch her breath before she swallowed him in a tight bear hug.
“You like the color?”
“ Bill, you know that yellow has been my favorite all along. Now I need to go shopping to get some decorations for the walls to make it look lived in.”
“Here ya go , babe.” He tossed a wad of rolled up bills on a nearby table. “Almost two hundred, will that do?”
She kissed him loudly and left half of her hot pink lipstick on his mouth. “You are a keeper. That’s what you are!” She flung herself free and ran to the door. Looking back, she added, “I gotta get busy decorating. The girls will be back tomorrow.”
Bill watched her as she trotted on the sidewalk in front of the large picture window. “Don’t take too much to make that good woman happy. That’s what I say.”
He took a clipboard and headed for the kitchen. He had time to do a proper inventory of his stock and intended to place an order before the day ended. The girls’ names were
Tom pulled her close and squeezed her hard. “That voice of yours will be on the radio. I know it.”
“Daddy...,” Betty whispered.
“I believe in you , Darlin’.”
Phyllis scowled at the two of them, “The meatloaf is gonna be hard as a rock if you don’t stop talkin’. I opened some canned corn to round it out a little since there are three of us eatin’ and I didn’t have any warning.”
She stomped back to the refrigerator and pulled out a can of biscuits and smacked it loudly on the counter. Three sticky white discs flew apart and landed next to the pie pan. Phyllis poured some cooking oil into it and slapped the renegade three into the pan and dug seven more pieces of dough out of the cardboard tube. She threw them in and tossed the pan into the stove, slamming the door as she reached up and started the timer.
“Well, wash up and sit down. Get your plate and serve yourself from the stove when you get done. Gunsmoke is fixin’ to come on.”
Nothing ever changes around here. Somehow, the thought brought Betty comfort, followed by fear.
After the evening round of Westerns on TV, Phyllis went directly to bed. Betty sat in the quiet living room with her dad. “Daddy, I have something I need to ask you.”
“What is it?”
“Could you give me a gun?”
“Gun?”
Her breath came out in small puffs. “There are some really...ah...different people where I live.”
“So...”
She squeezed her eyes tightly closed. “Someone hurt me once.”
“Betty!”
“He beat me up pretty bad.”
“Is that all?”
She didn’t intend on telling the whole story, but it spilled out of her mouth, “Daddy he did everything to me. I couldn’t come home. You know... Mama...wouldn’t take in a girl in my condition.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry, I don’t know how to...”
“I understood that, Daddy. That is why I gave the baby up.”
“There was a baby from the attack, then.”
“Boy.”
“My grandson.” He put his gnarled hands on the black vinyl arms of the old recliner and pushed himself to his feet. He ran his twisted fingers through his graying red hair.
Betty hadn’ t thought of the child being their grandson before. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“I know.” He pu lled her off the sofa and held her in his arms. “My poor baby girl had to go through all of that alone. Forgive me for being so weak where your mama is concerned.”
“I love you, Daddy.”
He sobbed into her neck. “Don’t ever go through stuff like that alone again. Call me and I will be there...no matter what Mama says. Hear?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
Chapter 9
Bill opened the door gingerly as he turned a key dangling from a bejeweled fob in the lock. He stepped onto the threshold and held the door open for his wife, Miss Sweetie. He was prepared for her reaction of gasps and squeals as she ran the length of the large cafe dining room to the kitchen.
“It’s so clean...beautiful...yellow!” She stopped long enough to catch her breath before she swallowed him in a tight bear hug.
“You like the color?”
“ Bill, you know that yellow has been my favorite all along. Now I need to go shopping to get some decorations for the walls to make it look lived in.”
“Here ya go , babe.” He tossed a wad of rolled up bills on a nearby table. “Almost two hundred, will that do?”
She kissed him loudly and left half of her hot pink lipstick on his mouth. “You are a keeper. That’s what you are!” She flung herself free and ran to the door. Looking back, she added, “I gotta get busy decorating. The girls will be back tomorrow.”
Bill watched her as she trotted on the sidewalk in front of the large picture window. “Don’t take too much to make that good woman happy. That’s what I say.”
He took a clipboard and headed for the kitchen. He had time to do a proper inventory of his stock and intended to place an order before the day ended. The girls’ names were
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