The Boarding House Read online

  But Ellie knew something that Sophie did not. It wouldn’t matter how properly she spoke or how particular she was about her clothing and demeanor, it was going to take more than manners to offset being Daddy’s whore.

  Whore was a new word she’d picked up at school this year. It was enlightening to Ellie. At least now she had a name to put to their relationship. Some girls pronounced the word as “ho,” but Sophie said if you had to use the terminology, you should at least use it properly.

  Ellie slipped the last piece of chocolate in her mouth and shifted her sack from her right hand to her left, then stumbled as she looked up.

  Daddy stood on the front porch waiting for her, and she could tell he was mad. She wondered if he was going to get as pissed as Momma had about the boys honking at her. She shifted her stride to accommodate haste and hoped she could get past him without a situation.

  It didn’t happen.

  The moment Ellie walked up the steps, Garrett moved in front of the door, blocking the entrance.

  “What are you doing?” Ellie asked. “I had permission to go to the drugstore.”

  “From who?” Garrett snapped.

  “It’s from whom, not who, and Sophie said I could.”

  Garrett wanted to shake her, but opted for another time and place. Today, he had other fish to fry.

  “I’m standing on the front porch of our house, in front of God and everyone so you’ll feel safe enough to talk to me, and I will be heard.”

  Ellie paused, her heart thumping so hard it was difficult to breathe. “I’m listening,” she said, and wished Wyatt or Sophie was standing beside her.

  “You’ve been calling the shots around here for months. I’ve let you get by with a lot of it because of Fern’s death, but you’re turning into a tyrant.”

  Anger surged so fast Ellie forgot they were on the front porch. “Seriously? Do you really want to go there with me?”

  Garrett knew he was taking a chance, but he pushed back.

  “I’m not going to get into a shouting match with you, and I’m not going to stand here and take the blame for what’s in the past.”

  “I didn’t expect you to,” Ellie snapped. “You never have. Why should I think you would suddenly change? Sophie says a skunk never changes its stripes.”

  Being referred to as a skunk by his own daughter was like throwing oil on a fire. Garrett was so mad he was shaking.

  “I’m here to tell you that I’m sick of having Sophie thrown in my face—and you insisting either she or Wyatt go everywhere with us. We’re never together like we used to be.”

  “There’s a reason for that,” Ellie yelled.

  Garrett looked nervously toward the street, then shoved his hands in his pockets and took a step back.

  “Here’s the deal. I’m not asking for much. Just our Sundays like they used to be.”

  Ellie’s head began to whirl, trying to decipher exactly what that meant. She could remember plenty of Sundays that had been hell on earth. Especially the ones when Momma had passed out. “What do you mean?”

  “Either you agree to attend church with me . . . just me . . . like we used to, or I’m never taking you back there again.”

  Ellie gasped. He’d found her Achilles’ heel. She liked the church even though her Momma’s funeral had tainted it a bit. It was less of a castle now, but more of a sanctuary. She believed God could hear prayers better there, and it troubled her to think she’d lose that connection.

  The idea of never going there again was almost worse than having to play Daddy’s games.

  She moved closer to him—so close they could feel each other’s breath. “Just church. But if you hurt me again, I’ll scream it to the world and take the consequences.”

  “Deal,” Garrett said, and walked back into the house, stifling the urge to grin.

  Ellie dragged her feet as she followed him inside.

  Wyatt was waiting for her. “I heard. You’re going to be sorry.”

  Her voice was shaking from the surge of anger she was trying to control. “Church doesn’t mean the same thing to you that it does to me.”

  “Whatever. I’m just saying it’s a mistake.”

  “Wouldn’t be my first now, would it?” Ellie snapped.

  Sophie slipped into the hall. “Here, here, you two shouldn’t be fussing.”

  Wyatt turned on her. “You don’t know anything about it,” he said, and left.

  “What’s he talking about? What don’t I know?” Sophie asked.

  Ellie shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

  But it did. When Sunday rolled around, the only one who walked out the door with Garrett was Ellie.

  Chapter Nine

  “You look very beautiful,” Daddy said as they walked toward the car.

  Ellie felt pretty in her pink skirt and white sweater with the pink embroidery around the yoke, but she didn’t want to hear it from him. She stomped toward the passenger side of the car with her chin up and her eyes blazing, but instead of getting inside, she stood, waiting.

  Daddy was already behind the steering wheel when he finally realized she was still outside. “What are you waiting for? Get in.”

  Ellie didn’t budge.

  With an angry exhale, he got back out. “What the hell, Ellie?”

  “You’re cursing on Sunday, and I’m waiting for you to open the door for me. Sophie says a gentleman always opens the door for a lady.”

  “Son of a holy bitch,” Garrett muttered as he circled the car, opened the door, and moved aside for Ellie to get in. Ellie stepped in as carefully as if she were getting into a limo, then smoothed out her skirt, brushed a bit of dried grass from the toe of her white patent leather shoe, eyed her stockings to make sure they weren’t twisted, and then buckled her seat belt as Daddy shut the door.

  He was still muttering beneath his breath as he got back inside. Ellie had a small pink purse in her lap, one leg crossed over the other and one foot swinging as she waited for him to start the car.

  He glared at her. “You’re being rude.”

  “You wanted me by myself. I’m here, but you can’t make me like it.”

  “That’s not—”

  “I’m doing exactly what you asked. You don’t get to change the rules to get more.”

  “You’ve never had a spanking in your life,” he said, “but there’s always a first time for everything.”

  She turned to look at him then, hating even the sight of him. “You need to remember I’m not afraid of you. And you also need to remember to be a little bit afraid of me, because if you step out of line in front of Sophie, she will tell God and everybody what you’ve done. She’s a nanny. She’s been trained to protect and care for children. She doesn’t know about the secret you have with me and Wyatt, and you better pray she never finds out.”

  Words froze in the back of Garrett’s throat. Not once since Sophie’s arrival had he thought of her as a danger to him, and the thought horrified him. The option to get rid of her like he did Fern did not exist. In a way, he and Ellie were trapped in webs of their own making.

  He started the car and backed out of the driveway. The ride to church was made in silence. When he parked at the church parking lot and got out, he did a double take when he realized Ellie was still sitting in the front seat.

  He bit his lip, retraced his steps, and opened the door.

  “Thank you,” she said primly, and walked beside him to the church.

  Preacher Ray stood outside the doorway greeting the parishioners as they walked in—smiling at the grown-ups and patting little kids’ heads. She remembered when he used to pat her head, but now she was too tall, and she wouldn’t have liked him messing up her hair. It had taken her too long to get it fixed the way she liked it to have someone stirring up the top. But she liked Preacher Ray. She liked him a lot. She didn’t often listen to all of his sermon, but it made her feel good to watch him standing up at the front behind the pulpit with all that thick white hair and his long preacher
robes. She thought he looked like an angel. All he needed were some big white wings and a halo. Angels always had halos.

  As they stopped in the doorway, he smiled benevolently and touched her shoulder. “Good morning, Ellie. It’s always good to see your sweet face in my congregation.”

  Garrett beamed.

  Ellie smiled back. “Thank you. I like church. It makes me feel clean.”

  Preacher Ray’s eyebrows rose slightly. Garrett’s heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t good for the preacher to start wondering why a twelve-year-old girl would think dirty as a religious euphemism for sin.

  “Come along, Ellie,” Garrett said, grabbed her elbow and guided her toward their pew. His eyes narrowed warningly as they sat. “Don’t talk like that to the preacher,” he whispered.

  Ellie put a finger to her lips and frowned. “No talking in church,” she whispered back. “Sophie said.”

  Garrett grimaced, hoped it passed for a smile, and began studying the program.

  Ellie took a slow deep breath, then leaned back and gazed up at the vast vaulted ceiling.

  Are you here, God?

  I haven’t been praying much lately. I’m sorry. Is Momma happy? I hope so. Make sure she knows I’m not still mad. So the reason I’m talking to You with my eyes open and my mouth shut is because I don’t want Daddy to hear, okay? The deal is, I’m scared. ’Course You already know that. I believe I’ve mentioned it before. But this is a different kind of scared. I got my period this summer. Oh. Sorry. You probably already know that too. Momma always said You were ‘all seeing.’ I thought it would make Daddy stop wanting to play the game. We haven’t done it in a while cause Momma put a lock inside my bedroom door, but I don’t think it’s gonna work much longer. So my question is . . . what do I do?

  That’s all I need to know. Hope You have a nice day.

  Satisfied that she’d put out the word, she looked down at her lap and smiled. There they were—the colors—spilling down the front of her dress and into her lap—yellows and reds, blues and gold, all running together like melted crayons. She looked up at the stained-glass window.

  It was Jesus sitting in a garden with a whole bunch of little kids sitting around him. She remembered the verse, suffer the little children to come unto Me.

  She sure hoped some heavenly being had heard her prayer because she was a kid and she was suffering the worst kind of fear. She’d take guidance from Jesus or God or even one of those warrior angels—she wasn’t picky.

  Preacher Ray moved to the pulpit as the organ music suddenly swelled.

  Ellie closed her eyes and inhaled as deeply as she could, then held her breath as the music rose throughout the sanctuary. The hair stood up on the backs of her arms and it felt as if every pore in her body opened to let in the music.

  Tears sprang to her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. She was still saving tears for something important, and while this music made her feel really, really good, she didn’t think she should be crying.

  Garrett laid a songbook in her lap with it opened to the proper page. She took it without thought. It was how church worked. He might be the monster in her house, but here he was just her Daddy.

  Sunday dinner was a la carte. Garrett went through the driveway at Kentucky Fried Chicken for take-home.

  “Wyatt likes extra crispy. I like original and Sophie would appreciate grilled. I don’t believe I’d care for coleslaw but I would like macaroni and cheese. Wyatt will want mashed potatoes and gravy and—”

  “. . . and Sophie will be wanting baked beans, right?”

  Ellie paused. “How did you know?”

  “Because it’s the only thing left on the menu that you have yet to mention.”

  “No it’s not, Daddy. I think they have corn on the cob, too, but it always gets in my teeth, and Wyatt eats too much butter. Doris says.”

  Garrett almost smiled. “Doris? I was expecting a Sophie reference.”

  Ellie frowned. “Sophie doesn’t cook for us. Doris does. Doris knows what we like to eat, remember?”

  Garrett sighed. “I remember.”

  He placed the order, then moved forward in line. It felt good to be doing this again—just him and his daughter—the way it was supposed to be.

  Rationally, he knew the laws of the nation condemned how he felt about Ellie, but they just didn’t understand the love a man could have for his child. They had no idea. No idea at all.

  A week had passed since Ellie sent up her prayer in church. She’d been waiting patiently, hoping for a sign that it had been heard.

  She was also worried about Wyatt and Sophie. They weren’t getting along and Ellie wasn’t sure what to do about it. Every time she approached Wyatt about the issue, he just got mad. When it happened again, it was the following Saturday. The only good thing about the whole awful ordeal was that Doris hadn’t been there to witness it, and it all started over pouring syrup on a waffle.

  Daddy was at the grocery store. Ellie had overslept, which was good because he hadn’t made her go with him like he usually did. He’d left her a note to make her own breakfast, so she’d chosen frozen waffles and popped them in the toaster.

  “Wyatt, do you want one or two?” Ellie asked.

  “Two for now,” he said, and got plates out of the cabinet.

  “Don’t forget to set a place for Sophie,” Ellie said. “I think she’s up.”

  Wyatt got out a third plate, but she could tell he was unhappy.

  “Why don’t you like her?”

  “She’s bossy, always criticizing what we say and do.”

  Ellie shrugged. “But Momma and Daddy always told us what to do, too. What’s the difference?”

  “I didn’t like it then, either, but they were our parents. That’s what parents do. Sophie’s not related. She’s an employee.”

  “She’s a nanny,” Ellie muttered.

  “Who happens to work for us,” Wyatt said. “Not the other way around.”

  The waffles popped up. Ellie put one on her plate. Wyatt took two. They carried them to the table, then sat and began slathering them with butter while they were still hot.

  Wyatt was in the act of pouring syrup on his waffles when Sophie’s high-pitched voice broke the comfortable silence.

  “Wyatt, that’s too much syrup. You’ll wind up wasting it. Waste not, want not, I always say.”

  Wyatt flung his fork down on the table. “You need to get something straight here. You’re not my parent and you’re not my nanny. You don’t tell me what to do.”

  Sophie folded her hands in front of her, which made her look like she was getting ready to pray. “Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. My, my, I had no idea.”

  “Please, you guys, stop fighting,” Ellie begged.

  “Then call off your babysitter,” Wyatt said.

  “She’s not my babysitter, she’s my—”

  “Oh hell, I know, I know. She’s your damned nanny. You don’t need a nanny. You just need to grow up.”

  Ellie stood, her heart hammering, her voice shaking with shock. “Wyatt Wayne. You cursed at me.” She laid down her fork and left.

  Wyatt was almost in tears. “See what you made me do. You don’t belong here. Before you came Ellie turned to me for help. Now she doesn’t need me anymore. It’s all your fault that we fight.”

  Sophie sat, her chin quivering. “Oh dear. I had no idea.”

  Wyatt stabbed a fork into his waffles and took a big bite with syrup dripping, daring her to criticize him again. The food felt like sawdust in his mouth. He chewed angrily, swallowing the food in chunks.

  But Sophie saw past the behavior to the pain beneath. “I never meant to come between you and Ellie. I understand how close twins can be. That’s not what I want for her. She’s a wonderful young girl on the verge of becoming a woman, and I just want to help her be the best she can be.”

  Wyatt chewed without looking at her. “I help her,” he said.

  “But you’re a boy. You haven
’t the experience or knowledge to help her through this time in her life. I realize you’ve both lost your dear mother, but you still have your father to guide you. Ellie has no one.”

  Wyatt stifled a snort. For obvious reasons, he didn’t want his father’s guidance in anything, but he could hardly tell her that.

  “I would like to make a suggestion,” Sophie said. “Are you open to that?”

  Wyatt shrugged then glanced up. “Maybe.”

  Sophie beamed.

  Wyatt blinked, somewhat surprised to see that Ellie had been right. Sophie did sort of look like Mrs. Santa Claus.

  “I think we can work together on this,” Sophie said. “I’ll help Ellie with all the girl stuff, and you continue to be her best friend and protector, which is something I could never be.”

  Wyatt thought about it. Ellie needed him for sure. But he had to admit he knew nothing about fingernail polish or using different forks for different foods, which he considered really stupid, but that was just him.

  “So what do you think?” Sophie asked.

  “I guess,” Wyatt said.

  “Marvelous. I’m going to eat breakfast now. Why don’t you go find Ellie and you two make up. I’ll do dishes.”

  Wyatt stuffed the last of his waffles into his mouth, washed them down with milk and then carried his plate to the sink.

  Sophie was making herself some coffee when he left. He guessed where Ellie had gone and headed out the back door for the creek.

  Ellie stumbled toward the creek with tears in her eyes. Not once in her entire life had Wyatt been cross with her. Not like this. All she knew was that he’d broken her heart.

  She reached the creek bank then sat down on her favorite perch—a wide flat rock jutting out from the bank of soft green grass, and began to pick up little rocks and lay them in her lap. Some of the rocks were covered in a cushion of dark green moss. She thought about pulling off her shoes and wading in, but it was too cold.