Who's The Daddy?. Judy Christenberry

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you called a taxi, and you left.”

      “A taxi? I don’t have a car?”

      “Of course you have a car. A Mercedes. Your father insisted, saying they were the safest. He buys you a new one every year.”

      She kept her feelings about her father’s domination to herself. “Then why a taxi?”

      “I don’t know. You had a bag packed and you hugged me, saying not to worry, you were going on a vacation.”

      “Did I tell you where I was going?”

      “No. You left a note for your father, but it didn’t tell him anything, ‘cause he questioned me.”

      She had some questions for her father the next time she saw him, too. “Did I call you after I left? And how long was I gone?”

      “You called once and told me you were having a good time. And you left a message for your father.”

      “What message?”

      Mrs. Lamb screwed up her face, as if trying to remember, and finally said, “You said you were proving him wrong.”

      Caroline stared at her. “That’s it? Nothing for my mother?”

      With a surprised look on her face, Mrs. Lamb said, “Why, no. You don’t—I mean, you love your mother, of course, but Mrs. Adkins is so busy…” She trailed off and looked away.

      “I see. And when I came back? Did I ever say where I’d been or what I’d done?”

      “No. But you seemed sad. Once I found you crying, and that’s unusual for you. Why, as a little girl, you’d fall and hurt yourself, but you’d never cry. Unlike Chelsea. Chelsea learned to shed tears whenever she wanted something. Tears just drive your father up the wall.”

      Caroline could believe that. But she wanted more information about herself, not her father or her sister. “Did I explain why I was crying?”

      “No.”

      “Did I receive any strange phone calls? Or letters?” But she remembered Max asking for her telephone number. He wouldn’t have called her.

      “No.”

      “Did I date anyone after I came back?”

      “You would go to social events with Adrian and Prescott. You did that before you left, too.”

      “Social events?”

      “You know, to the Save the Whales dinner and dance, the opera, the symphony opening night. There was a real nice picture in the paper yesterday of you and Adrian.”

      “Why?” Caroline demanded, suddenly afraid she might have announced her engagement.

      “You were dancing at the opera ball.”

      Caroline sat down beside Mrs. Lamb, feeling a little weak herself. And her head was beginning to ache. Again.

      “You’d better eat some lunch, child. You don’t look too well. And you’ve got a baby to think about now.”

      Caroline smiled faintly. It was too easy to forget that she was carrying a child inside her, since she couldn’t remember the event that had brought it about. But Mrs. Lamb was right. She needed to eat.

      “Let’s take the tray back downstairs. I’ve had enough eating in bed to last me awhile.”

      And she needed to calm down again before she faced her father. He had some explaining to do.

      SHE DIDN’T GET TO ASK her father any questions that night. Long before he’d returned from the office, she’d gone to bed, exhausted. Her mother had gotten home around four, but her vagueness made Caroline wonder if she even remembered that her daughter had come home from the hospital that day.

      Even so, Caroline tried to question her at the dinner table that evening.

      “Uh, Mother?”

      “Yes, dear?” Amelia replied distractedly, examining the salad she was eating.

      “Do you know why I argued with my father?”

      “Did you? I have no idea, dear. You argue with him frequently, even though I tell you you shouldn’t.” She took a bite of salad and chewed it consideringly. “I don’t think Mrs. Lamb is using a dietetic dressing, even though I asked her to.”

      “Please think, Mother. It’s important.”

      “I know it is. I gained two pounds last month, and I’m sure it’s the salad dressing.”

      “No, I mean arguing with—with my father.” She had no idea what she normally called him.

      Amelia looked at her blankly. “About what? Was he difficult when he picked you up?”

      “No, not today,” Caroline said, hoping her patience could withstand more conversation with her mother. “Mrs. Lamb said that I had a fight with him a little over two months ago, and then I left.”

      “Did you? Where did you go?”

      Caroline sighed. “I don’t know. Didn’t you notice I was gone?”

      “Hmm. Two months ago? I think that’s when I went to that spa in Arizona.” She laid down her fork and rang the dinner bell that rested on the table by her plate.

      Mrs. Lamb opened the door that led to the kitchen. “Yes, ma’am?”

      “Mrs. Lamb, didn’t I go to that spa at the end of June?” Amelia asked.

      “Was that when I left, while Mother was at the spa?” Caroline added, hoping to clarify matters.

      “That’s right. Your mother left the day before you did.”

      “Where did Caroline go, Mrs. Lamb? She wants to know.”

      The housekeeper looked at Caroline and then her mother. “I don’t know, ma’am. She didn’t say.”

      “Thank you, Mrs. Lamb,” Caroline said, dismissing the woman before her mother remembered the salad dressing.

      A call to her sister didn’t produce any better results.

      “I have no time to keep up with your social schedule, Caroline. You disappeared just after I announced my pregnancy. I assumed you had left in a fit of jealousy. But I had no idea you’d go so far as to get pregnant yourself. Couldn’t you let me be first in something?”

      Having determined that her sister knew nothing about those lost two weeks, Caroline quickly smoothed her feathers and hung up the phone. Mrs. Lamb confirmed that her father had called and would be working late, which seemed to be a common occurrence.

      No wonder no one knew anything. They barely saw each other. All of them together in her hospital room must have been their version of a family reunion. And not a very happy one.

      Caroline

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