Daddy, I want more

Chapter２

Dr.Jonson did not seem to mind that it was the worst "saving" ever made. The deep, lovely noise filled the spacious garage. The sound caused me to look at him. His look was one of muted enjoyment, and he had his palms propped up on the door frame.

However, he just blinked it away and straightened up. "Did David ask you to pick up a six-pack for him?"

I opened the fridge with a shrug and surveyed the virtually barren shelves. The chilly air from the open fridge helped cool my flushed cheeks. As the saying goes, "I offered."

When I took the container by its handle and pulled the24-pack off the rack, the cardboard made a creaking sound. Since this was the second time this summer that he had caught me, I did my best to ignore the guy in the doorway and concentrate on the weight in my palm.

This was the second time he had caught me in a questionable act.

No, really, don't even consider it.

I slapped on a stoic look and hobbled toward the door with my drink, having spent more than enough sleepless hours daydreaming about that moment. As we got near, Dr.Jonson remained immobile. Suddenly, his brown eyes narrowed on mine, and I braked. I couldn't go past him since he was in my way.

Is everything all right between the two of you? he inquired anxiously.

Due to my shock, I almost misplaced the case. David didn't appear to notice how far apart we were becoming. In what possible way could his father justify this?

“We’re . . .” Neither the content nor the delivery of my message was clear to me. I attribute it to being a result of my academic obligations. Because of this, we lost our rhythm.

Dr. Johnson gave a cautious nod. As a first-year college student, David had trouble adjusting to his newfound independence and maintaining a consistent academic schedule. His poor academic performance was a source of tension between him and his father.

I tried to force a smile on my face. We'll be alright, I'm sure of it.

Nothing could alter the look on his face. When he glanced at me, it was unclear if he was scared, upset, or just didn't believe me. Nonetheless, he gave me another nod and moved aside so that I could pass. Before I even reached the kitchen, he started talking.

“Jessica.” His words carried quietly yet decisively. Not sure if I ever properly expressed my gratitude for everything that you done for David, but please accept my sincere appreciation.

I had to put on the brakes since I didn't know what was going on. “What?”

Dr. Johnson moved about uncomfortably on his feet. "It was tough for him to adjust to life in Havai. You simplified things, and I appreciate that. He placed his balled fists on the kitchen island and pressed his knuckles into the granite while leaning forward. He's a better man because of you, and for that I'm eternally thankful.

I huddled the box closer to my body, still in disbelief, and felt the cold cardboard.

He had a tumultuous upbringing. David was born to parents who never wed, and he stayed at home with his mom until he was sixteen, but he seldom discussed the subject.

As for his connection with his father before moving to Havai, I can only assume it was strained at best. According to the tale I had coaxed out of his mother, he had been hanging out with a group of youngsters she was afraid about, so she had sent him to live with his dad to protect him from their influence.

David and I sometimes joke that we began dating because I was the first female in town to be kind to the new child. The strategy devised by his mother appeared to succeed when he began hanging out with my group of intellectual, somewhat geeky pals.

Not knowing what to say in response to his father's thankfulness, I clutched the drink tightly in my arms. I didn't know what to say. To whom do I extend my thanks?

That's really kind of you, but I can't take any credit for it.

Dr. Johnson's lips raised in a little grin at the beginning of each sentence, and it grew in size and intensity as he continued talking. Either way, I'm grateful, so there. I'm sorry to have walked in on you mid-whatever you-were-doing.

To hide my shame, I stiffened at the little taunting he gave me. Well, I just couldn't help myself. Personally, Joven is one of my favorite people.

To which she said, "I agree they're nice, but they don't cause me seizures." His grin broadened.

I said, "Ha, ha," in a monotone. Let me tell you, generally I'm a wonderful dancer. I had no idea anybody else was in the area. I gave him a really stern look.

He seemed to submit by raising his hands, but his grin remained. Saying, "Well, I don't really have space to discuss." Using his thumbs, he looped them back toward himself.

There's no better candidate for "World's Worst Dancer"

I'm stumped. It's possible that your youngster is already more skilled than you.

Whenever David went to a school dance, you could usually find him standing off to the side. He had the spastic hips and flailing arms of one of those inflatable windsock guys you see at car lots selling secondhand automobiles whenever he tried to dance.

When I finally left David's dad and headed downstairs to the basement, I still felt uneasy. There was a strange, pleasant feeling in my chest.