Father Of The Brat by Elizabeth Bevarly

the death of her mother, a move to the opposite side of the country that left her without roots or friends…”
    He frowned. “In other words, I should be grateful she’s not out knocking over banks, is that it?”
    She shook her head. “No, Carver. In other words, I’d say her behavior is not unlike any other twelve-year-old girl’s would be who found herself in a similar situation.”
    That wasn’t good enough for Carver. There was more to Rachel’s reticence than the loss of a loved one and her need for a period of adjustment to get acquainted with her new surroundings. A lot more. She had something against Carver, a personal bone to pick with him that he couldn’t for the life of him understand. He hadn’t even been a part of her life until recently. How could she hate him so much when he hadn’t even been around?
    “She’s said more tonight with you here than she’s said to me in the entire week she’s been living with me. Why is that, do you think?”
    Maddy studied him in a way that let him know she had no clear answers. “Maybe because she finds this situation as awkward as you do.”
    This time Carver was the one to shake his head. “Or maybe it’s because she hates my guts.”
    “I think you’re wrong about that.”
    “And I think I’m right.”
    Once again, they were at odds, Carver thought. Why was it always like that with Maddy? Why couldn’t she, just once, try to see things from his point of view? Why did she always have to disagree with him?
    “What happens if things don’t work out between me and Rachel?” he asked. It was a question that had been dogging him for days, one he wasn’t sure he wanted answered.
    “Things will work out with you and Rachel,” Maddy told him. “They have to.”
    “But what if they don’t?”
    Her expression was one of quietly masked outrage. Carver felt certain that if he moved too quickly, Maddy would deck him one right in the kisser. “If you’re asking if you can send her back, Carver, the answer is no.”
    “That’s not what I’m asking.”
    She released her breath slowly. “Then what?”
    “Just…” He ran two big hands through his hair and sighed. “What if she and I never come to terms with this thing? What if she never warms up to me or accepts me as her father? What if the two of us are doomed to spar like this for the rest of our lives? What then?”
    “I wish I could tell you those things will never happen,” she said as he felt himself deflate a little.
    She must have picked up on his anguish, because she reached across the table and covered his hand with hers, much as she had done a few mornings before. On that occasion, her hand had been cool and hesitant, in no way reassuring. This time, however, Maddy’s hand was warm and soft and comforting. She curled her fingers through his and squeezed hard.
    “I can’t promise that you and Rachel will have a rosy future where nothing ever goes wrong. But I can tell you that it’s been my experience that a lot of situations, given time, do turn out for the better. Not all situations, mind you, but some. And not always perfect, but better. You and Rachel have started off in a situation with infinitely more potential than most of the ones I see. It seems very unlikely to me that the two of you won’t work through this eventually and have an acceptable life together.”
    The words she spoke were so unlike the ones he would normally associate with Maddy. Twenty years ago, she would have chirped at him the most banal clichés about rainbows and silver linings and lemonade. Maddy Saunders would have promised Carver in no uncertain terms that good would win out and everything would be peaches. Maddy Garrett, however, would evidently choke on such reassurances.
    He tightened his fingers around hers and met her gaze levelly with his. “You’d better be careful, Maddy,” he told her. “People might think you prefer to see the good in a situation.”
    She almost smiled at him. Almost.