Read Online Love In a Small Town by Joyce Zeller - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Joyce Zeller
Tags: Fiction
Ads: Link
mutilated. He saw Sarah's temper begin to heat, ready for confrontation.
"Why not?" she demanded. "All the girls are doing it. They'll hack me and won't hang with me if I don't."
"And I don't care if it's swag and you're hacked, whatever the hell that is. No, and that's final." His voice growled, but he couldn't help it. How the hell did he deal with this? He had no solid ground to stand on. Tattoos were a button she should not have pushed.
"I assume these so-called friends are the same ones who encourage you to dress like a bag lady, and wear that crummy mascara that makes you look like a raccoon?"
Eyes wide, she stared at him. Shocked, he guessed, because he never commented on her appearance, no matter how bad.
"You can forget it, and don't even mention piercing while I'm in charge. You aren't going to do that, either."
He was disappointed with her. He could see that she knew it and she wanted to cry and say she was sorry, but she stubbornly held back. Damn it, he felt about as low as a cockroach. Again he had handled it wrong. He tried another approach.
"Tattoos are a fad. You'll be sorry it's there when you get older, and plastic surgery is the only way to remove them. I forbid you to do this. Am I clear?" Hell, he sounded so pedantic, but some things weren't worth being nice about.
"Yes." Her voice caught, on the edge of tears. She sat avoiding his eyes, mashing her toast with her fingers.
He gentled his voice. She was contrary, and impulsive, but only fifteen. Still a child, but almost a woman.
"Sarah, in the adult world, you'll want to be taken seriously by people who have the power to give you opportunities. That won't happen, especially for a woman, if you have visible tattoos. They label you, and are often unacceptable, especially for a woman, in a business environment.
"You'll have to trust my judgment for now. You don't have the experience." He paused, searching for words and tried again. "You haven't lived long enough to know how to make wise choices." He tried to lighten up with some humor. "I'll bet Donald Trump doesn't allow visible tattoos in his boardroom."
She looked at him, teary-eyed. No matter. He picked up his coffee mug and drank from it, closing his mind to her distress. She was not going to get around him by crying.
Grimly measuring her, his eyes focused on her face, he wondered if this might not be the issue. Something didn't sound right. He ventured a guess.
"You didn't really want a tattoo, did you?"
She tried a small grin, through her tears. "No, not really, because it hurts, but I didn't want to say no and get dissed by Ashley and Tiffany."
"Why are these girls so important to you? They're not anything like you. What happened to the old Sarah, that beautiful young woman I knew in Chicago, full of promise and confidence?"
"It's all your fault. I didn't think you cared how I looked."
His fault? She thought he didn't care? My God, she was his daughter, adopted or not. Had he ever voiced an opinion? Paid her a compliment? A moment passed.
Slowly, carefully considering each word, he said, "Sarah, I care about everything that concerns you, but I'm trying not to push too hard. I don't want to sound like I'm on you every minute, and I don't want you to think I'm trying to replace Mom."
"Hah." She glanced at him, scorning his effort. "Mom wouldn't have put up with my clothes for a minute. She'd have raided my closet and thrown everything in the dumpster, right off. You didn't care."
"And if I had done that, you'd have called me a Nazi. I'm trying to go slow, giving you time to adjust to a new situation." Shoot. He didn't have words to reassure her; her youth made him awkward.
She faced him so earnestly, sounding discouraged, as she said, "Sometimes I don't know what to do, and I get scared. I really need you to tell me what to do, be a Dad, not act like a friend, even if it makes me mad."
He'd made a mess of this. He'd never understood grown women, how was he going to deal with a
"Why not?" she demanded. "All the girls are doing it. They'll hack me and won't hang with me if I don't."
"And I don't care if it's swag and you're hacked, whatever the hell that is. No, and that's final." His voice growled, but he couldn't help it. How the hell did he deal with this? He had no solid ground to stand on. Tattoos were a button she should not have pushed.
"I assume these so-called friends are the same ones who encourage you to dress like a bag lady, and wear that crummy mascara that makes you look like a raccoon?"
Eyes wide, she stared at him. Shocked, he guessed, because he never commented on her appearance, no matter how bad.
"You can forget it, and don't even mention piercing while I'm in charge. You aren't going to do that, either."
He was disappointed with her. He could see that she knew it and she wanted to cry and say she was sorry, but she stubbornly held back. Damn it, he felt about as low as a cockroach. Again he had handled it wrong. He tried another approach.
"Tattoos are a fad. You'll be sorry it's there when you get older, and plastic surgery is the only way to remove them. I forbid you to do this. Am I clear?" Hell, he sounded so pedantic, but some things weren't worth being nice about.
"Yes." Her voice caught, on the edge of tears. She sat avoiding his eyes, mashing her toast with her fingers.
He gentled his voice. She was contrary, and impulsive, but only fifteen. Still a child, but almost a woman.
"Sarah, in the adult world, you'll want to be taken seriously by people who have the power to give you opportunities. That won't happen, especially for a woman, if you have visible tattoos. They label you, and are often unacceptable, especially for a woman, in a business environment.
"You'll have to trust my judgment for now. You don't have the experience." He paused, searching for words and tried again. "You haven't lived long enough to know how to make wise choices." He tried to lighten up with some humor. "I'll bet Donald Trump doesn't allow visible tattoos in his boardroom."
She looked at him, teary-eyed. No matter. He picked up his coffee mug and drank from it, closing his mind to her distress. She was not going to get around him by crying.
Grimly measuring her, his eyes focused on her face, he wondered if this might not be the issue. Something didn't sound right. He ventured a guess.
"You didn't really want a tattoo, did you?"
She tried a small grin, through her tears. "No, not really, because it hurts, but I didn't want to say no and get dissed by Ashley and Tiffany."
"Why are these girls so important to you? They're not anything like you. What happened to the old Sarah, that beautiful young woman I knew in Chicago, full of promise and confidence?"
"It's all your fault. I didn't think you cared how I looked."
His fault? She thought he didn't care? My God, she was his daughter, adopted or not. Had he ever voiced an opinion? Paid her a compliment? A moment passed.
Slowly, carefully considering each word, he said, "Sarah, I care about everything that concerns you, but I'm trying not to push too hard. I don't want to sound like I'm on you every minute, and I don't want you to think I'm trying to replace Mom."
"Hah." She glanced at him, scorning his effort. "Mom wouldn't have put up with my clothes for a minute. She'd have raided my closet and thrown everything in the dumpster, right off. You didn't care."
"And if I had done that, you'd have called me a Nazi. I'm trying to go slow, giving you time to adjust to a new situation." Shoot. He didn't have words to reassure her; her youth made him awkward.
She faced him so earnestly, sounding discouraged, as she said, "Sometimes I don't know what to do, and I get scared. I really need you to tell me what to do, be a Dad, not act like a friend, even if it makes me mad."
He'd made a mess of this. He'd never understood grown women, how was he going to deal with a
Similar Books
