Read Online Everybody's Daughter by Marsha Qualey - Free Book Online Page B

Martin— Just what have you been doing to my daughter, young man?
    He shook Martin’s hand, then spoke to Beamer. “You had better get home now. We have work to do at the store.” He nodded to Martin, then turned away and stepped into his skis.
    “I’ll just be a minute, Dad,” Beamer said. “My things are inside.” She retrieved them.
    “I’m sorry,” said Martin. “I should have thought.”
    “No problem—he’s worried, not mad. I hope.”
    “That could be worse. I hope they aren’t too hard on you.”
    *
    Beamer skied behind her father, matching the strength and length of his strong, long strides. They didn’t speak until later, when they were both working in the store, and then they spoke not of the morning’s outburst or of her delinquent excursion but of Martin.
    “He’s really nice, Dad. You’ll get a chance to know him. He’s going to be around all winter.”
    “Andy will love that. Here, scoop.” He was cleaning bait tanks, removing the dead and dying fish from the water before the healthy ones started their cannibalistic nibbling.
    “Andy will like him as much as I do. Martin has done some really interesting things.”
    “Beamer, I don’t care what he has done. I certainly don’t care to hear about it now. I do care that my daughter disappeared for over two hours today and that I found her alone with a young man I have never seen in my life. Your judgment today was faulty, to say the least.”
    Beamer turned to the minnow tank. She pinched a bellied-up shiner between her thumb and forefinger and flicked it toward the waste bucket. It bounced off the rim and skidded under the soda cooler. “Cut that out,” said her father, “and get that minnow.”
    When she rose from recovering the fish, her father was waiting and watching. He was not happy. “Beamer, I want you to apologize to our friends.”
    Beamer deposited the minnow in the bucket and wiped her hands on her apron. “Why?”
    “Pathetic old hippies—that’s what you called them. We haven’t allowed name-calling since you were able to speak. Name-calling, that’s why you’ll apologize.”
    A customer came up and asked Mr. Flynn to help him find the ice augers. He was directed to the proper aisle. Beamer resumed her work in the bait tanks. Her father approached quietly from behind and laid a hand on her shoulder.
    “Bea, you have been brewing a storm for weeks. That’s been obvious to your mother and me. But we didn’t know why. She thought maybe it was about Andy. I didn’t think so. Daniel thought school, but Jenny doubted that. Maud was concerned about your diet, but few of us wanted to blame eating meat—”
    “Dad. No.”
    “Well, if this is what it’s all about, I’m glad it’s out. But it is unacceptable to fling it at our friends the way you did. You should apologize.”
    The customer noisily piled his purchases on the counter. Mr. Flynn walked to the register. Beamer watched him. Her father’s efforts at admonishment had left him drained; he wasn’t even attempting to talk with the customer. Beamer caught his eye. He smiled wanly.
    She nodded. It won’t make things any better , she thought, but I’ll do it. I’ll apologize .

Chapter 8
    When the Woodies assembled the following Saturday evening, Beamer delayed her departure for a date with Andy in order to speak with them. Andy waited in his car.
    Standing by the wood stove, she eyed each of the friends in turn, then said clearly and flatly, “I’m sorry I called you pathetic old hippies. It was the wrong thing to say and the wrong way to say it. I’m sorry.”
    She ignored the muddle of murmured responses and edged through the circle. Daniel was leaning against the checkout counter. He smiled broadly. “You know, Moonbeam, I never much liked your name, either, but I went along. It was Maud’s suggestion.”
    “What was Maud’s suggestion?” asked Maud. She had come up behind Beamer.
    “Moonbeam’s name.”
    “Not so. It was Peter’s