Better Late Than Never

Chapter 14

THERE WAS A SURPRISE waiting for Jenna after school on Monday Just as she and Tracey emerged from the building, she spotted the now-familiar yellow car at the curb.

"It's my father," she cried in delight. She ran over to the car.

Stuart rolled down the window. "How's my girl?"

"Fantastic!" Even as she said the word, Jenna was thinking that this was probably the first time she'd ever responded to a question about herself with that word. On the other hand, who had ever called her "my girl" before?

"Just thought you might be interested in an after school snack," he said.

"Sure!" She waved to Tracey. "C'mon, my dad's taking us out for something to eat." She was pleased-- this was the perfect opportunity for Tracey to get to know Stuart and see for herself what a great person he was.

Tracey seemed to be walking unusually slowly, and she didn't look particularly thrilled at the notion.

"Jenna," her father called, beckoning for her to come closer to the window. When she did, he spoke quietly. "Listen, I'd rather this was just the two of us, okay? I need to talk to you."

He looked unusually serious, and at first she was puzzled. Then a disturbing thought occurred to her, and the pessimism she'd pushed to the back of her head returned to the forefront. He wanted to talk to her alone. Why? Because he'd changed his mind about hanging around. Because he was leaving town and he wanted to say goodbye.

She looked back at Tracey. Her friend couldn't have heard him, but she'd stopped approaching anyway.

"Thanks, but I've got tons of homework," Tracey said. "I need to go straight home. Have fun." She turned away and walked off in the opposite direction.

Jenna frowned. Tracey could at least have said hello to Stuart. It wasn't like her to be rude. Jenna joined her father in the car and they headed off. Already depressed, she watched him, waiting for the bad news. She should have known her fantasies were just that--fantasies. Ex-husbands and wives didn't reunite after 13 years--not when they hadn't had any contact at all during that time. There wasn't going to be any little house with a backyard. All those silly dreams she'd had were going to stay just that, dreams. Her father was going to leave, and another 13 years might pass before she'd see him again.

She pressed her lips together tightly. She would not cry. At least, not in front of him. After all the experiences in her life, why hadn't she learned that people always ended up letting you down? She wanted to be angry. But all she could feel was this enormous sense of disappointment.

Stuart pulled into a fast-food restaurant and ordered a couple of drinks from the drive-through window. "Want something to eat?" he asked her. "Some fries? A burger?"

"No thank you," she said stiffly. Five minutes ago, she'd been hungry Now food was the last thing on her mind. Without a word, she took the drink he handed her. They left the parking lot, and he drove silently for a couple of minutes. Turning down a pretty street lined with trees and cute bungalows, he pulled alongside the curb and stopped. As he turned off the engine, jenna asked, "What are we doing here?"

He didn't answer the question. "There's something I have to tell you," he said.

Jenna looked out the window on her side so that she wouldn't have to face him as she replied. "I know. You're leaving."

His silence confirmed her suspicions. Then he said, "I want to explain . . ."

She interrupted. "You don't have to. Could you just take me back to Tracey's?"

"Only if you're willing to leave tomorrow."

Slowly, she turned toward him. "What?"

"Listen to my plan," he said. "I'm tired of running around, and I want to settle down. And I want to make up for what I did to you and your mother. But I'm not doing this just because I feel guilty."

Jenna was more confused than ever. "Doing what?"

He took a sip of his drink before responding.

"I saw your mother this morning."

She was completely taken aback. "How? She's not allowed to have any visitors."

He grinned. "You might not have noticed this, but your father can be pretty charming. I had a little talk with one of the nurses, and she bent the rules."

Jenna was surprised. She thought hospitals were pretty strict about regulations. "How's she doing? Was she shocked to see you?"

"Very. But happy, I'm glad to say. And she looks wonderful. This treatment is working."

"That's great." With no idea what was coming next, Jenna waited uncertainly.

"She'll be leaving the hospital on Sunday," he continued. "And I don't want either of you living in that apartment anymore. I'm going to buy a house."

She blinked. "A house? For me and Mom?"

"For all three of us. To live together, as a family."

Jenna couldn't speak. The lump in her throat was almost painful, and at the same time, she'd never felt so happy.

"Your mother is going to give me another chance," he said. "I don't deserve it, but she wants this, too. I hope you feel the same way."

She felt pretty sure that her expression answered for her. But just in case, she said, "Oh, I do. I do."

He smiled. "Good. Now, we have to be practical. I don't want us spending even one night at Brook side Towers. This morning I saw a house I want to buy." He leaned across Jenna and pointed. "What do you think of it?"

It was like the house of her fantasies. White, with blue trim. Boxes at the windows spilling out red geraniums. Big hanging baskets of flowers on each side of the front door. A manicured lawn. It wasn't a mansion, or even a large house like the Devons'. It was cozy and sweet. It wasn't just a house--it was a home. The perfect little home for a family of three.

"It's beautiful," she breathed.

"I wish you could see the inside, but the owners are out for the day."

"Are you sure it's for sale?" she asked. "I don't see any sign."

"They're nice people," he told her. "Even though I couldn't give them any money up front, they took down the sign. I have until Friday to pay them."

"Friday," she repeated. "This Friday? You mean this week?"

"Yes."

She was mystified. "But it must cost thousands and thousands of dollars. How are you going to get that kind of money? Can you borrow it from the bank?"

He smiled ruefully. "Not with my credit history. No, honey, I'm going to pay cash. And I'm hoping you'll help me."

"How?"

"I'm going to get a few bucks together today and tomorrow," he told her. "Enough for a couple of plane tickets and a little more. On Wednesday, you and I could fly to Las Vegas. The casinos there are open twenty-four hours a day I could join a poker game, and with you by my side, I could win the cost of that house by Friday morning. We fly back, I hand the folks the money we move in on Saturday. We pick up your mother on Sunday and bring her home. Here."

He'd completely taken her breath away. She wasn't even sure she'd comprehended what he'd just said.

"Do you think you can handle it?" he asked. "Staying up all night reading minds?"

"I don't know. I guess."

"Of course you can--you're a tough cookie. You're my girl, right?"

"Right." It wasn't the staying up all night that was bothering her, though. "But . . ."

"But what?"

She made a little face. "We'd be cheating." Deep inside she knew it was wrong.

He didn't disagree. "Yes, you're right. And as a father, I suppose I should be ashamed of myself, asking my daughter to help me cheat. But I'm looking at the big picture, Jenna. I'm thinking about saving your mother, making us all happy. Being a real family. It would take years and years for me to save up the money for this house. I don't think your mother can last years and years at that place where you've been living."

He was right, and she knew that. Brook side Towers was no place for a recovering alcoholic. There was just too much temptation to go back to her old ways.

"Do you know the expression 'The end justifies the means'?" he asked her.

She shook her head.

"It means that sometimes you have to do things that aren't one hundred percent right in order to reach a goal that's more important. We're talking about your mother's health and our future as a family. Don't you think it's worth doing something a little unethical for that?"

She still didn't feel good about it, but he was right.

"Yes."

He leaned over and gave her a quick hug. "Excellent. I'll call your principal tomorrow and make arrangements to take you out of school on Wednesday"

"I think you'd better come up with a different reason for it," she cautioned him.

He chuckled. "Not to worry, Jenna. Your old man can spin a tale. I'll say you've got a sick grandmother who wants to see you. We can use the same line with the Devons."

"Okay."

He started up the car. "Now, I have to go scrape together the money for our tickets and enough for me to get into a game. I'll drop you off at the Devons'."

It wasn't far. When they moved into this house, she'd still be in the same school zone. As he drove, Stuart talked about job possibilities for him in the town, but Jenna was in too much of a fog to listen.

It was happening. It was really happening. Her dreams, her fantasies--they were going to come true. Like in a fairy tale. She had no idea something like this could happen in real life.

At the Devons' house, he gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and told her that he'd let her know what time they'd be leaving on Wednesday. Still feeling dazed, Jenna went inside.

"I'm in the kitchen," Tracey called out.

"I'll be there in a minute," Jenna called back. First, she needed a little time alone. She ran up the stairs to Tracey's room.

It was a funny thing about emotions, she thought. They never seemed to be precise--at least, hers weren't. She was never 100 percent happy or 100 percent miserable. Right now, for example, she'd just heard the best news she'd ever heard in her life. She should have been ecstatic.

Okay, so she'd have to do something she really didn't like doing, but so what? She just had to keep telling herself what Stuart had said about the ends and the means. And it wasn't as if she was so virtuous about her gift anyway. She'd certainly read minds for more stupid reasons than this! Madame was always scolding her for eavesdropping on people's thoughts.

She wasn't sure how the Devons would react, though. They were responsible for her, as her foster family. They might not want her flying off to Las Vegas, even if they believed it was to see a sick grandmother. They might want to get permission from social services, and then it would turn into a big deal. Stuart would have to fill out forms--there would be little chance they could get permission by Wednesday. Which would mean they wouldn't have the money for the house on Friday. Which would mean her mother would come out of the rehab program on Sunday and go straight back to Brook side Towers.

Jenna had an idea. Instead of telling them, she'd leave them a note that they'd find only after she'd gone. Tracey would be furious with her for not telling her the truth, but when she saw how happy Jenna was in her new home with her new family, she'd have to forgive her.

Jenna needed paper. Tracey kept school supplies in a cabinet under her desk, and Jenna found a pad there. Then she opened the drawer to get something to write with.

Her eyes fell on an envelope, sealed, addressed, and apparently waiting for a stamp so that it could be mailed. That's odd, she thought. Tracey was a big e-mailer; she never wrote old-fashioned letters.

But this looked like something official. Jenna knew she was being nosy--it was none of her business--but so what? If she could read minds, she could look at envelopes. And it wasn't as if she was going to open it.

She picked it up and examined the address. State Medical Laboratories. Department of DNA Testing.

Was Tracey writing a paper about DNA? She hadn't mentioned it.

Jenna heard footsteps and dropped the envelope onto the desk. Tracey came in.

"I'm bringing the kitchen to you," she announced. In her hand was a plate of brownies. "I just made these. You're probably not hungry, though, if you just had something to eat with Stuart."

"I'm starving," Jenna said, taking a brownie. Sitting on her bed, she hoped Tracey wouldn't notice that an envelope that had been in her drawer was now on top of her desk.

Tracey did notice, but she must have thought she'd left it there herself, because she just picked it up and opened her drawer to slide it back in. That was when Jenna read her mind. She couldn't resist it. There was something furtive about Tracey's movements, something that made Jenna think she didn't want her to know about this envelope.

And for a good reason. As she was handling the envelope, Tracey thought about it, and her mind revealed what was contained inside.

Hairs. Some of Jenna's that Tracey had gathered from her hairbrush. And some that belonged to Stuart.

Tracey had plucked them from his head when she had been invisible the day before. That was why she'd been out of breath when she became visible again, just more than a minute later. During that time, she had run downstairs, pulled the hairs from an unsuspecting Stuart while he sipped his cocktail with the Devons, and hurried back to her room.

Jenna wondered if he'd felt it and what he'd thought it could have been. A mosquito?

Of course, that wasn't really relevant or important. What was important was the fact that Tracey was so convinced that Stuart wasn't Jenna's father that she was willing to take the extreme measure of having their DNA compared to see if they were actually related.

Automatically, Jenna reached for another brownie. She had to keep in motion, keep busy, so she wouldn't reveal what she knew to Tracey. At least, not until she'd figured out what she was going to do about it. "They're good, aren't they?" Jenna looked at Tracey blankly. "Huh?" "The brownies. I've got another batch in the oven. In fact, I'd better go check on them." Tracey left the room. As soon as she was gone, Jenna went to the drawer. Opening it, she retrieved the envelope and went into the bathroom. There, she tore the letter up, again and again, into little tiny pieces that wouldn't clog the plumbing. Then she dropped them into the toilet and flushed it.

She'd have to find some way to tell her father that he should let her know if he ever felt anything unusual, like a mosquito bite out of season--without telling him why.