Take a Chance on Me (81 page)

"Definite babe material—if you're into old guys with woo-woo dogs."

* * *

They took a break down by the creek. Leelee sprawled on the grass while Emma secured the horses, pulled out juice boxes and granola bars from her fanny pack, and plopped down beside her.

"Refreshment, ma'am?"

Leelee looked up and smiled. "Why yes, thank you," she said primly, piercing the waxed cardboard with the straw. She took a long sip. "A lovely vintage."

Emma grinned at her and leaned back on her hands.

"This is nice, Emma. I'm glad you took me on a ride." Leelee was quiet while she concentrated on removing the granola wrapper. "And I'm sorry I clammed up on you this morning. I acted like a total jerk."

The words flowed over Emma like a warm breeze, and she sighed quietly. With this adjustment in Leelee's mood, it was time to clear the air.

"I'm trying to be a good mom, Leelee."

The girl's head popped up, alert to the serious tone in Emma's voice. "I know you are."

"It's difficult sometimes. I'm learning as I go."

Leelee shrugged and took another sip. "I know."

"So I want you to know that I don't enjoy having to say this."

Leelee frowned and looked around like she'd missed something. "Say what?"

"That I'm angry with you." Emma sat up straight and turned to face Leelee. "That it was inappropriate for you to watch me with Thomas last night—it was an invasion of my privacy and I don't want it to happen again." Emma paused, gulping down enough air to continue. "And I expect you to speak to me with respect—always. I love joking around with you, Lee, but I sure didn't appreciate the comment you made about me 'working it.' Or the name you gave Thomas. You went over the line."

Leelee's mouth fell open. She dropped the granola bar to the ground.

"I meant it when I told you I'd never make any major decisions without consulting you. But the thing is, I'm an adult woman. And I get lonely sometimes. And I may want to start something with someone at some point—maybe Thomas, I'm not sure—and you'll have to find a way to understand that if it happens."

Leelee said nothing.

"There may even be times when I'll have Thomas or another man over to the house, and I expect you to treat them with respect as well."

Leelee's sob cut through the quiet air. She was on her feet before she realized she was moving, walking away, fast, toward the water.

This isn't happening. This isn't happening.

Emma jumped up to follow her. "Leelee, please look at me."

Her ears were buzzing and the tears made her eyes sting, but it was her chest and throat that hurt the most—a kind of squeezing ache, like a fist clenching around nothing, but still clutching, grabbing, gripping the emptiness inside her until it burned.

"Sweetheart."

"Sometimes, in the mornings, they'd still be wasted, you know?" Leelee was embarrassed to hear her voice come out in such a tiny whine, like she was five years old or something. "Sometimes I'd be getting ready for school and they'd be doing it in the kitchen and I couldn't get any cereal."

Emma thought she would die. Right there.

She raised her hands and pressed them softly to the narrow shoulders in front of her, feeling every bone in Leelee's body shake.

Damn Becca.

"The most psycho part of it was that I hated all those men—really hated them—but that didn't stop me from pretending that they might be my dad. It's so weird to walk around every day and not know who your dad is, Emma."

Leelee felt Emma's hands on her head, stroking, holding, and she leaned into the warm touch.

"I'd see men walking around L.A. and I'd stare at them—construction workers, suits, slackers, every different kind of man imaginable—and I'd look for someone with my color eyes or the same shaped jaw. It was totally lame, I know."

"No, sweetheart. It wasn't."

Leelee laughed bitterly. "And I used to see these dads with their daughters, you know, at places like the mall and the movies and stuff, and I used to get all creeped out by it. It was like I didn't really believe the guys loved those girls just because they were their daughters. I was always looking for proof that there was some other gross reason they wanted to be with them—a sexual reason—because it's all I'd ever seen a man be."

The tears were rolling down Emma's face now.

"The weirdest thing of all is, unless he's dead, there's some man out there right now who might be able to love me just because he's my dad, you know? But I'll never know who he is. I'll never know what it feels like to be loved like that."