Home Again

“Yes,” Mom said, gazing steadily at Lina. “There are always times in life when you don’t fit in. But you have to go forward and make a place for yourself. That’s what growing up is all about. Being strong and believing in yourself—even when you’re most afraid.”

Lina bit her lip. “Zach’s friends won’t like me. I have a… bad reputation, and he’s so squeaky clean.”

Mom looked as if she really understood. “I wish I could give you a magic pill that would make it all okay, but I think I’ve screwed up with you in always pretending that life was easy. Sometimes it’s hard and unfair, and sometimes people are cruel and selfish.” She reached out, took Lina’s hand in hers. “But I know this: You’re a bright, beautiful girl and you have a wonderful young man who wants to spend an evening dancing with you. If you don’t go because you’re afraid, then you’ll be heading down a long, lonely road. Believe me, I know how fear can get ahold of you, and once it gets inside, it ruins everything. Don’t let that happen to you, baby.”

Lina knew her mother was right. She had never let fear run her life before, and this was no time to start. She gave her mother a quick, darting smile. “Could you make me pretty again?”

Madelaine grinned. “Oh, baby, that’s the easy part.”

The doorbell rang at exactly 7:45. Madelaine jumped at the sound and dropped the teakettle on the burner. It hit with a clang and slid sideways, sloshing water across the black steel surface. She laughed at her own nervousness and wiped her hands on a dishrag. Reaching for her camera, she hurried to the door and wrenched it open, expecting to see Zachary in his rented tuxedo.

But it was Angel who stood on her porch. He was wearing a pair of baggy blue mechanic’s coveralls that were zipped all the way to his throat.

She smiled at him. “Come to fix my bathroom pipes, have you?”

The grin he gave her was so sexy, it took her breath away. He whipped a huge bouquet of pink roses from behind his back.

She bit back a sudden smile. “For me?”

He shook his head. “You’re not the only lady in my life, you know.”

Madelaine loved him more in that moment than she would have thought possible. Smiling, she backed up to let him come inside.

He set the flowers on the table. “Is she ready?”

Madelaine saw the nervousness in his eyes as he glanced toward Lina’s bedroom, and she had to stifle a smile. “Almost. Are you?”

He looked startled by the question, as if he thought he’d hidden his anxiety. Then he caught her gaze and he smiled. “I don’t think so, Mad. Are you sure she’s old enough to date?”

“I was her age when I met you, and we—”

“Don’t remind me of that.” He tried to smile again, but it looked weak and a little sick. He spun away from the table and paced the room. He kept glancing at Lina’s room, then at the front door, and with each look, his lips tightened.

She sat on the sofa and patted the cushion beside her. “Come here.”

He strode over and slumped to a sit beside her. Easing an arm around her shoulders, he drew her close. “Christ, I’m as nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof. I don’t know about this fatherhood crap. I don’t think I’ll be any good at it.”

She leaned against him, reveling in the comfort of his body, the feel of his arm around her. “Welcome to parenting. It’s not a job, it’s an adventure.”

The fire in the fireplace crackled in the silence that fell between them. She snuggled closer. She still felt fluttery and nervous about the dance, but something about having Angel here with her, sharing her anxiety, made it all seem manageable, maybe even a little fun. “I guess this is how all parents feel when their daughter goes to her first school dance.”

He turned to her then, and his face was serious. “This dad shit scares me.”

She touched his face, gazing up at him. “It scares you because it’s forever and you’re a never kind of guy.” Even as she said the words, and heard the truth in them, she felt the sadness spreading through her. “But you’re doing a great job, really.”

Before Angel could answer, the doorbell rang again.

Instinctively they snapped apart like a couple of teenagers getting caught by their parents. Then they looked at each other and burst out laughing.

With a sigh, Angel got to his fe

et and went to the door, ushering Zach inside.

“Zachary Owen,” Angel said, studying the boy with narrowed, disapproving eyes.

“H-Hello again, Mr. DeMarco.”

Angel didn’t smile. He turned to Madelaine. “Give me that camera. I want to take a picture of him—for identification purposes.”