The Parent Plan. Paula Riggs Detmer
the hurts he knew waited for her in the world outside the cocoon he’d tried to weave around her. But even as he fought it off, he knew he would always feel protective toward this marvelous little miracle in pink and white.
“Trust me on this, peanut,” he drawled past the lump in his throat. “You’re as beautiful as the dark-haired princess in that book you read under the covers when you think Mom and I are asleep.”
Vicki wrinkled her nose. “I’m way too skinny.”
“No way! I’m already dreading the day when the boys start lining up outside that door there.” Summoning a decent enough grin, he playfully tugged on one of her long fat braids, hoping to win a smile. When he saw a frown instead, he bit off a sigh.
“You’re willowy,” he assured her. “Just like those ladies on TV.”
Vicki looked unconvinced. “Brooks Gallagher says I’m as flat as one of his skis.”
“Forget Brooks Gallagher,” he said as he concentrated on the last few inches of unpinned hem.
“He’s always hanging around Maria Del Rio, ’cause she wears lipstick.” Vicki sniffed. “And a bra.”
Good Lord. A third-grader, wearing a bra? Cassidy felt a flare of helpless panic. “Don’t even think about it.”
“I’m only talking about lipstick.”
“No.”
“Oh, please, Daddy! Just for tonight.”
“No!” He fought down the urge to tuck her away in her room for the next twenty years. “You’re too young.”
“I’ll be nine in six weeks.”
Had it really been nine years since he first laid eyes on the doll-sized, red-faced, squalling scrap of femininity cradled in her mama’s arms? Lord, but he’d been punch-drunk with happiness that morning. And proud enough to shout his wife’s praises in the streets. He’d wanted another baby as soon as it was safe for Karen to get pregnant. She’d talked him into waiting. He was still waiting. But the so-called “right time” seemed about as far away as ever, and, at thirty-five, he didn’t have a lot of years to wait. Not if he wanted to be around long enough to make sure his kids had everything he’d missed—like a mom they saw for more than a few minutes every morning…and if they got lucky, a few minutes before bedtime.
“No bra and no lipstick. That’s final.”
“You’re just mad ’cause Mommy’s late,” Vicki accused, more perceptive than she should be.
“I’m not mad.” Cassidy felt a sudden heat spread over his face at the blatant lie. “More like…impatient.”
“You are too mad. I can tell, ’cause your face gets all hard and your eyes have a funny look.”
Cassidy made a mental note to exert more control on his thoughts. “Turn a little more to your right,” he muttered, squinting at the target he’d selected for the next pin.
“Daddy, how come boys don’t like girls who are smarter than they are?”
Whoa! Where did that come from? “What makes you ask that?” he hedged.
“Wanda June said I wouldn’t be popular if I keep on making straight A’s in school.”
Wanda June should learn to keep her mouth shut. “Honey, a girl as sweet and special as you isn’t going to have any trouble attracting boyfriends.” He had a mental image of pimply-faced punks trying to hustle his innocent daughter out of her virginity and felt his gut twist. “When the time comes,” he added with more force than necessary.
“What if it doesn’t? What if no one wants to marry me?”
Cassidy took a deep breath. He didn’t have a clue how to proceed. This kind of thing was Karen’s responsibility. “Someone will.”
“Mommy said it’s never too early to start thinking about the future.”
Cassidy stabbed another pin into the material. “Mommy was talking about your education, specifically about why you need to take arithmetic.”
Vicki huffed her disgust. “That’s only important if I want to go to college.”
Cassidy was beginning to think females were born with an innate ability to drive a man beyond his reason. “You’re going to college.”
“You didn’t.”
Cassidy felt an old ache flare to life. Every time he was around Karen and her doctor friends he was reminded of his poor education. Hell, he’d had to jump through hoops just to get through high school—and even then he’d had to take extra courses during summer school before the army would take him on.
“I wanted to. But I couldn’t afford college and the ranch, too.”
Vicki’s expression turned cunning, and Cassidy nearly groaned aloud. “It probably cost a lot more now, and Billy says you’re putting all your money into that new bull you’re fixing to get in California real soon.”
“Billy needs a lesson in watching his mouth.” Cassidy made a mental note to do some straight talking with his blabbermouth ramrod ASAP.
“Billy’s my friend. He thinks it’s great I’m going to run the Lazy S someday.”
“Get this straight, Victoria. You will go to college. I don’t care which one you pick or how much it costs, but you will get an education. Got that?”
“No way. I’m going to help you run the Lazy S, and when you get too old, I’m going to take over as the boss.”
“Vicki, we’ve had this discussion too many times already, and—”
“That sounds like Mommy’s car!” Vicki cried, whirling around.
Even as relief flooded through him, Cassidy had the presence of mind to grab for the small box of pins just as Vicki’s foot sent it flying off the table. Pins showered the carpet like silver hail. Before he could stop himself, Cassidy blistered the air with curses.
“Daddy! You’re not supposed to say words like that when I’m around! Mommy said.”
He felt his face flaming as Karen walked in, looking harried and tired, her eyes shadowed. She’d lost weight in the past few months, and her small body looked whisper-thin in the rumpled surgical scrubs. Even when she wasn’t working, exhaustion seemed to roll off her in waves. And no wonder. She’d worked three-to-eleven for two months straight, getting home at midnight most nights. And then, this morning, she’d had to get up before dawn in order to work the seven-to-three shift for somebody else.
Anger seared through him. She was wearing herself out at that damn place. And for what? Money? Hell, he wasn’t a rich man, but they weren’t starving, were they? Prestige? A membership in the country club when neither of them played golf? The chance to be “Woman of the Year?”
He scowled, fighting off black memories, the dangerous, ugly kind that would torture him for days if he let them take hold.
“Did you get my hair ribbons?” Vicki demanded before her mother had a chance to open her mouth.
“Of course.”
“Got ’em in Denver, did you?” The sarcastic words were out before Cassidy could stop them.
Karen cast him a reproving glance. “No, at Farley’s. Right after I picked up your suit from the cleaners and the colic medicine you wanted from the vet’s.”
It was then that he noticed the clear plastic cleaner’s bag dangling from her hand. He felt a momentary jolt of guilt before habit had him twisting it into anger, one of the few emotions he tolerated in himself.
“If you didn’t have time to stop tonight, you should have told me.”
The shadows in her eyes turned to sparks, and her