he asked desperately.
She nodded, but did he detect a note of disappointment in her eyes? Had he already failed?
“I like Reading Rainbow,” she said in a small voice. “And sometimes I watch Barney.”
“Barney,” he repeated, wishing he knew what she was talking about. “Sure you don’t like to watch football?”
She shrugged.
“It’s fun, trust me,” he said, turning toward the television. The remote was on the TV table, and he switched on the set, grateful for the distraction. He clicked until he hit the Dolphins’ game. Then he went to his chair and sank into it, grateful to be off his feet.
Megan came up next to him. “I’ve seen this game before at my house.”
“Yeah? Well, good. Greatest game ever invented.”
“My daddy says football is for jerks. He says the quarterboy doesn’t know shit from shinola.”
Jack jerked his gaze to Megan. “Pardon me?”
She sighed. “He says football is for jerks—”
“Yeah, yeah, I heard you. Maybe we’ll look for this Barney show, after all.”
“Okay,” she said.
He flipped the channel and the next and the next until finally he found some cartoons. It wasn’t Barney, but it wasn’t football, either.
She moved closer to him, then before he could do a thing, she climbed into his lap and settled back. She adjusted her doll under her arm and put her thumb in her mouth.
It was the damndest thing.
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