Free The Song Reader by Lisa Tucker Page B

mentioning her dad at the weirdest times.”
    “Her dad?”
    “That’s who she felt like a ghost around.” She was down to her cone now, too, and she was wiping nuts from the table onto a paper towel. “You know, in the song.”
    “Didn’t you tell me Holly’s father is George, the hardware store guy?”
    She nodded.
    “And he owns that store?” I sounded irritated, and I was suddenly. “He owns that store, and probably lives on the hill just like Holly?”
    The hill was a neighborhood on the west side of Tainer that was home to most of the richer people in town, including the mayor. Very few of Mary Beth’s customers were hill people. She said they usually saw shrinks for their problems, not song readers.
    “What are you getting at?” She was holding the crumbled-up paper towel, but she hadn’t moved to the trash.
    “Holly’s dad was there when she was growing up. They had piles of money.” I paused, but I couldn’t stop myself. “I just don’t see what she could possibly have to bitch about.”
    “There’s a lot to life you don’t know about yet.” Mary Beth’s voice was soft, but I rolled my eyes. “I’m serious, Lee. Trust me, there are worse things than being left. Much worse.”
    “Yeah, sure,” I said, but I turned away from her because I had a feeling I did know what she meant and I felt a little sick. We knew Holly’s father George—he’d sold us the child-proofing web for Tommy’s window. He was a loud, big-faced, blustery man who told jokes no one thought were funny. At least my sister didn’t. I didn’t really understand most of them.
    He seemed harmless enough, though. He seemed like any other old guy.
    “That’s Tommy,” she said, and stood up. It was thundering, the way it did almost every night, but there was never any rain. Once the sound woke him up, he remembered how hot he was and started yelling for my sister.
    Usually it took her a while to settle him, but this time she was back in only a minute—with Tommy right next to her. He was blinking and rubbing his eyes but he was wearing his getting-away-with-something grin.
    I looked at him. “What do you think you’re doing, you little goof?”
    “Mama says I get to sleep in her bed.” He climbed up to the chair with his booster seat. Mary Beth was getting his apple juice box from the refrigerator.
    “Why? Is something wrong with yours?”
    “It’s sticky!” he said, and grinned wider because he knew I’d laugh. I’d just told him this morning that sticky and sweaty weren’t the same thing.
    We were still sitting at the table when the rain started. It was very sudden: one minute there was nothing, and the next we were running around checking windows, talking about how hard it was coming down as it pounded against trees and rattled the metal gutters.
    It was after midnight and Mary Beth told Tommy they had to get to bed, rain or no rain. “You should come in my room, too,” she said to me. “We can move the big fan in there, and listen to the storm and cuddle.” She smiled. “That way if we lose power, we’ll be together.”
    I started to say no, but I realized I didn’t want to be alone yet. I couldn’t stop thinking about Holly and her dad. That wasn’t tainted love, it was disgusting. It even made me feel weird about kissing Jason, although I knew that didn’t make sense.
    I threw on my sleep shorts and T-shirt and crawled in with them. Within just a few minutes, Tommy was snoring softly, one arm around Mary Beth and the other one thrown across my stomach.
    “Can I ask you a question?” I whispered, turning my head in her direction.
    “Sure, sweetie.”
    I gulped. “How could anybody do that? I mean, to their own daughter?”
    “I don’t know,” she said softly. “I’d like to believe that something happened to him to make him that way. But then whoever hurt him must have been hurt, too, and it just keeps going.” She exhaled and rubbed her eyes. “All this suffering, passed from