Page 30 of Mail Order Bride

“Oh,” her father remarks, moving to the counter. He looks me up and down a couple of times, and then he just turns and walks away. “Is that right?”

I study him as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He’s wearing nothing but pajama bottoms. His gut hangs over the top of his pants, and his belly protrudes a little, like he’s had a few beers in his time. I remember Gina writing that her father was sick, and I wonder if that's the cause instead. Either way, he doesn't look well. Something about his appearance makes me think of Layla. She doesn’t take care of herself very well either. We need to have a talk when I get back.

Gina looks at me and smiles, a sad smile, as if she knows what I’m thinking. I have an urge. You know that urge you get when a girl is far out of your league? This is that predicament. She is way out of my league, and not for the usual reasons, but I want her. I want her in ways I’ve never wanted a woman before. I want her badly. Her father is standing at the counter, looking at us. He has a disgruntled smirk on his face, like he knows there is something going on between us. Gina is focused on her cooking. “Yeah,” I say. “I'm on the road a lot. I’m in town for a couple of days. I’m headed out to Willoughby in a couple of hours, but I'll be back tomorrow, late.”

Gina’s father smiles. It is a wicked smile, one that reminds me of a predator about to pounce. He walks over to me. Gina is too busy with the eggs to even notice. “You mind if I ask you something?” he says, almost conspiratorially.

I nod.

“Do you mind if I ask where you’re from?”

“I'm from Texas.”

“Just passing through then, I guess?”

“That’s right.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“I dig graves.”

“Oh, yeah?” he says. “That pay well?”

“I can't complain.”

Gina’s dad only responds with a coughing fit so bad he doubles over, gripping his bulging belly. When he finally catches his breath, he turns to face me. He has a pained expression, and his eyes are watery and red. I instantly realize something is seriously wrong with him.

“Daddy, you okay?” Gina asks, throwing a dishtowel on the counter.

I see Gina’s dad looking at me. It is almost like he is lookingintome, like he is trying to read me. “I’m fine,” he says, but his voice is strained.

“Joel lives on a lake, Daddy. He has land; he farms.”

Gina’s father looks past me then, and it feels like he is looking into my soul. He takes a step toward me, and then another. By the time he is a foot away, he is glaring at me, his eyes burning a hole right through me. He has a look of disgust on his face, like I’ve somehow done something to him. I can see the veins in his neck bulging, and his fists are clenched at his sides.

But then he just smiles at me again. A smile that will stay with me for the rest of my life. It is a yellow-toothed smile. It is a leering smile. It is a smile that says,“I know you want to fuck my daughter. I know what you want to do with her, to her. And it ain't gonna happen.”

I’ve always prided myself on being a man in control of myself. This guy’s smile has me scared shitless, and it is only for a second. I do my best to not let him think he is getting to me.

“Food's ready,” Gina calls, catching everyone’s attention.

“Smells good, princess,” her father says, eyeing the spread. “Looks good, too.”

I help Gina clear the table. There are boxes scattered about, and photos, a lot of photos, but only one in a frame. “My mother,” Gina says, holding it up for me to see.

“She's pretty. You favor her.”

“Why don't you ask where she's at?” her father coughs. The light in Gina's eyes dies a little bit when her father mentions her mother. It's like she's holding her breath, waiting for the inevitable pain that comes with talking about her. I can see it in her face, the way she clenches her jaw and looks down at the table. I can see it in the way her father's eyes harden when he talks about his wife. There's a lot of anger there, and a lot of pain. And I can't help but feel a little sorry for both of them.

“Come on,” he says. “I’m sure you’re dying to know.”

I shrug. I’ll bite. Even if I know the outcome, I’ll let the old man have what he wants. “Where's she at?”

Gina looks away.

“Prison,” her father says, stabbing at the butter. “Well, she used to be, anyway. She’s dead now.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

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