OCR Text |
Show in my father's houses/ 34-1 "I like your nose. I like everything about you." His eyes invited me to swim in them. Gently he touched his mouth to mine. My mind was suddenly wind-swept. "You have a window in your mind," I breathed. Then I looked up, sensing his presence above us, feeling his stunned expression even before I saw it: My father. "She Loves You, Yeh, Yeh, Yeh," The Beatles roared. My face and body went hot and cold, then hot again. "Daddy!" I was on my feet, wanting to bow, kneel, kiss his hand or the hem of his trousers, to do anything that would gain his forgiveness. But I did nothing. I had proven his words._ I was, as he had said, a hussy. "Daddy, this is Brian," I murmured at last. For once, my fear that our family secret would get out was submerged. "Hello, Mr. Allred." To my surprise, Brian held out his hand. And, greater surprise, my father took it. "Glad to meet you, young man." My father nodded at the stereo. "This isn't the sort of music young people should listen to on Sunday." He picked up a Book of Mormon record, one of a collection he had purchased for each of his families, and put it on the stereo. Then he left the house. A few days later, I broke things off with Brian. Part of it was the problem with Saul. He had moved home, again, feeling that we younger children needed 'a father-figure' as he put it. He began to take a grave interest in my life. When someone called me on the telephone, he asked who it was. When I went babysitting, |