On the other hand, he could construe her threat to move to Kansas City and thus away from him forever as undue pressure, and he didn’t respond to threats. But he didn’t want to lose her. On the other hand—there were too damn many on-the-other-hands.
His mind raced. Denise. What would her reaction be? Rudd doubted that Aloha had coordinated this with Denise. Probably, Denise knew only part of the deal.
Rudd wanted Aloha. All the time. But did he need her?
He was still standing by the door with the box of vests in his hands when Aloha passed him with an innocent smile. Followed by Peter.
He’d talked to Peter Blaze only occasionally. And twice Peter had told him he should have named his daughter “Paula” so that they could say they were “Peter, Paula, and Mary.”
He didn’t have long now to decide. Then it would be too late.
Jail. Jesus. He could go to jail.
But her parents approved, not knowing of his and Aloha’s relationship. They thought that she was going to stay with a family, namely her girlfriend, and that he, Rudd had approved the move. They probably did not even know Denise spent most of her time on campus.
Denise would have a fit. And Buddy? If he ever found out....My God, Buddy....
But this was legitimate. What an opportunity.... Too lonely too long, a refrain now. It’s okay to be selfish sometimes, isn’t it?
Through the doorway he saw Peter hand Aloha an armful of hangup clothes and pick up a box of teddy bears and stuffed tigers.
This was it. He had to decide.
Right goddamn now.
It occurred to Rudd if he went ahead with this, he’d be assailed by doubts and anguish.
Yes or no?
Aloha passed him again, anxiety pasted all over her. She could see he hadn’t moved and still held the box of vests.
Peter came along oblivious to the byplay.
Aloha set her jaw and went down the hall.
Aloha returned before her father did.
Rudd watched her consciously remove the worried look on her face and replace it with what she hoped was a salacious one, but didn’t quite work. That alluring bit of vulnerability swung Rudd.
Never mind that she’d threatened him. She was using everything she could. If Colonel Travis had had her on his staff, they’d have lasted at least a week after their ammo ran out, and probably escaped to fight again.
In a moment of extreme clarity, he knew that right now he absolutely could not get along without Aloha Bonnie Blaze. He must have her in his life. He answered his own question: not only did he want her, he needed her like nothing he’d ever needed before in his life. Another thought which had been worming through his mind for weeks: this rough-cut gem needed polishing.
A few times in a man’s life he is required to make an instant decision that he knows will affect the rest of his life and that of those around him. Most such decisions you have plenty of time to reflect on and think about. Not this one. In some ways, this was akin to a battlefield decision which could change the course of the war.
To hell with doubts and anguish.
So be it.
Aloha stopped in front of him. “Well?” Panic tugged at her eyes and tears were in her voice.
So be it.
Peter was coming from the hallway.
Rudd handed the box of vests to Aloha. “Here put these up. I disremembered that today was the day. You need to open the windows in there so the room can air out.”
Aloha stood there, mouth agape, relief visibly washing over her.
“Peter,” Rudd said, “Aloha can finish. Let’s talk.” He gestured for Blaze to follow him into the kitchen.
He had to push it here, see if Peter was really serious. He moved the almost empty Gordon’s Gin aside on the counter. He opened the refrigerator, took two Budweisers out, popped the tops and handed one to Peter. He downed his own in one long gulp and got another.
“Boy, eight o’clock Sunday morning!” Peter said appreciatively. “Real guy-stuff.” He sipped his own beer.
“Hair of the dog,” Rudd said. Obviously this hard-drinking pilot bit didn’t bother Peter. So now Rudd knew that Aloha’s parents weren’t worried about him getting drunk and robbing her virtue. “Sit down, Peter.”
Rudd straddled a chair at the kitchen table and took a long swallow of Budweiser. He admitted that it did taste good and cleared his furry mouth and cloudy mind.
“In case you’re wondering,” said Peter, “I know you are divorced. I know also that Aloha is a street-smart girl who can handle herself very well and she can also exist pretty much on her own. Your daughter is very Christian, and that helped. And, of course, you have a sterling reputation both here in the neighborhood, and in the business community. I checked around.”
Jesus.
“And you’re a genuine war hero, which didn’t used to matter to me because I fought hard against that war. And you, according to the local gossips, raised both of your children almost on your own.”
Rudd said nothing, but was uncomfortable being the object of so much scrutiny.
“You probably think that I’m a limp-dicked, long-haired dope-smoking, commie, left-wing, old-hippie fucking scum pervert. I might be some or all of that; but I know what I want. I’ve a decent job and pay the mortgage regularly. I’ve always dreamed of being in the Peace Corps and doing my part. Mary, too. Finally, we agreed we weren’t getting any younger and we decided to go ahead. We applied and were not accepted. We found an international peace foundation which works in a similar fashion. We might be old and crazy but we’re doing what we want. Aloha is my daughter and I do care about her. She should be able to do what she wants, too. What she wants is paramount, and what she wants right now is to stay in the school she’s been in with all her friends. And she gets straight A’s of course. So we agreed she could stay.” He drank half his beer. “This is good. Mary and I agreed that Aloha couldn’t stay alone; she had to find, ah, proper accommodations.” He drained his beer. “You buying?”
Rudd unstraddled the chair and got them both another beer. His sixth sense and a slight breeze caused him to look at the kitchen door. It was a quarter of an inch ajar, but when he glanced at it, it closed gently as if nobody had been there. He sat back down and handed Peter a beer.
“When do you leave?” Rudd didn’t indicate that what Peter was saying was new to him.
“Tomorrow morning. We’re going to drive to Virginia. The house is leased for two years and Aloha will get the rent check and pay the mortgage. The difference between the two is two hundred dollars. That’s for her, for spending money, clothes, the like. And most will be for her to give you for her share of household expenses and whatever you think her rent to be. Have you thought about it?”
“Not really.”
“A hundred a month?”
“Maybe less,” Rudd said.
“Aloha is very good with money. She can work it out.”
“Fine.”
“By the end of the school year, she is supposed to decide if she’s going to stay here in Tally for her senior year next year, or go to Kansas City. To do that, she is going to spend the summer in KC. I suspect if she wants to stay with you—and if it’s all right with you—next year too, that’s okay. I think the girls get along famously and they’ll wind up like sisters.”
“You’ve