Angel Falls
Page 56
“Jesus, now I’m thinking about my mother. Enough. ” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, making his unsteady way down the hallway to the bathroom.
He showered in the world’s smallest white fiberglass shower stall (it could have doubled as a coffin), then dressed in faded Levi’s and a black T-shirt. He grabbed the coat he’d bought yesterday—at that lightning rod of fashion, Zeke’s Feed and Seed. Shrugging into it, he flipped up the collar and left his room, hurrying downstairs. He pounded on his driver’s door. “Come on, let’s go!”
Lizbet popped out of the kitchen and met him in the foyer. She looked like she’d been dipped in flour and was ready for the fryer. “Good-bye, Mr. True. Will we see you for lunch?”
“I don’t know. Bye, Lizbet. ” He opened the front door—and saw a dozen teenage girls standing on the sidewalk beyond the white picket fence. The second he appeared, they screamed his name.
It seemed that gos
sip spread pretty damned fast in Pleasantville.
He grinned lazily. “Well, hello, ladies. It’s good to see y’all. ”
They crammed together, a centipede in cheerleader outfits and bare legs. Giggling.
He bounded down the steps. “What have we here, the Last Bend welcomin’ committee? Such pretty gals, too. I’m honored. ”
“Will you sign my autograph book, Mr. True?” asked one of the girls. Her saucer-round cheeks were bright red.
“It’d be my great honor. ” He pulled a pen out of his pocket and started signing autographs. The girls talked all at once, giggling, pushing one another toward him.
“Tonight’s the winter prom, Mr. True … I don’t suppose you’d like to stop by?” one of the girls asked, dissolving into a fit of laughter before she finished the sentence.
He planted a hand against his heart. God, he loved this. “Why, I’ll bet a girl as pretty as you already has a date. ”
“Yeah, Serena,” someone yelled, “you’ve already got a date. How about going with me, Mr. True?”
He was about to answer the silly question when he saw her, off in the back of the group, smiling but not giggling, not asking for his autograph.
His jaded heart skipped a beat. Maybe two.
She was beautiful—Hollywood beautiful—this tall, thin, black-haired girl with eyes as soft as melted bittersweet chocolate. Midnight-black hair fell like a waterfall of ink down her back. It had to be her …
He spelled his name wrong and handed the piece of paper back to a red-haired girl who was grinning up at him, showing a mouthful of multicolored braces.
He pushed easily through the crowd and sidled up to the dark-haired girl. His heart was beating hard. “And who are you, darlin’?”
“I’m Jacey. ”
Juliana Celeste. J. C.
His daughter. He was too stunned to speak. For the first time, she was real; not a faded image of a baby in a crib, but a young girl who’d grown up without him.
He didn’t mean to close his eyes, but somehow they slid shut. In the darkness, he saw an image from long ago, him and Kayla in bed together, a squawking bundle of baby tucked gently between them.
Isn’t she perfect? Kayla had said …
He opened his eyes and gazed down at his daughter.
“Mr. True?” She blushed prettily. “W-What are you doing in Last Bend?”
“I’m … uh … here … for the Make-a-Wish Foundation, visitin’ sick folks at the hospital. ”
“My mom is sick. She’s in a coma. Maybe … maybe you could visit her. ”
“I’d be happy to. Why, I’ll do it right now. ”
“I’m here, Mr. True!” The driver’s buoyant voice lifted above the giggling.