ambulance, even two or three radio cabsbut for the most part the streets
were bare of everything but snow. Twelve or fourteen inches had fallen,
and it was still coming down fast. No one could see the lane markings
through the snow; even where the plows scraped, they didn’t make it all
the way down to bare pavement. And no one was paying any attention to
oneway signs or to traffic signals, most of which were on the blink
because of the storm.
Davey’s exhaustion had eventually proved greater than his fear. He was
sound asleep on the back seat.
Penny was still awake, although her eyes were bloodshot and watery
looking. She was clinging resolutely to consciousness because she
seemed to have a compulsive need to talk, as if continual conversation
would somehow keep the goblins away. She was also staying awake
because, in a round-about fashion, she seemed to be leading up to some
important question.
Rebecca wasn’t sure what was on the girl’s mind, and when, at last,
Penny got to it, Rebecca was surprised by the kid’s perspicacity.
“Do you like my father?”
“Of course,” Rebecca said. “We’re partners.”
“I mean, do you like him more than just as a partner?”
“We’re friends. I like him very much.”
“More than just friends?”
Rebecca glanced away from the snowy street’ and the girl met her eyes.
“Why do you ask?”
“I just wondered,” Penny said.
Not quite sure what to say, Rebecca returned her attention to the street
ahead.
Penny said, “Well? Are you? More than just friends?”
“Would it upset you if we were?”
“Gosh, no!”
“Really? ”
“You mean, maybe I might be upset because I’d think you were trying to
take my mother’s place?”
“Well, that’s sometimes a problem.”
“Not with me, it isn’t. I loved my Mom, and I’ll never forget her, but
I know she’d want me and Davey to be happy, and one thing that’ll make
us real happy is if we could have another mom before we’re too old to
enjoy her.”
Rebecca almost laughed in delight at the sweet, innocent, and yet
curiously sophisticated manner in which the girl expressed herself. But
she bit her tongue and remained straight-faced because she was afraid
that Penny might misinterpret her laughter. The girl was so serious.
Penny said, “I think it would be terrific-you and Daddy. He needs
someone. You know . . . someone . . .
to love.”
“He loves you and Davey very much. I’ve never known a father who loved
his children-who cherished them-as much as Jack loves and cherishes the
two of you.”
“Oh, I know that. But he needs more than us.” The girl was silent for a
moment, obviously deep in thought.
Then: “See, there’re basically three types of people.
First, you’ve got your givers, people who just give and give and give
and never expect to take anything in return. There aren’t many of
those. I guess that’s the kind of person who sometimes ends up being
made a saint a hundred years after he dies. Then there’re your
givers-and-takers, which is what most people are; that’s what I am, I
guess. And way down at the bottom, you’ve got your takers, the scuzzy
types who just take and take and never-ever give anything to anyone.
Now, I’m not saying Daddy’s a complete giver. I know he isn’t a saint.
But he’s not exactly a giver-and-taker, either. He’s somewhere in
between. He gives a whole lot more than he takes. You know? He enjoys
giving more than he enjoys getting. He needs more than just Davey and
me to love . . . because he’s got a lot more love in him than just
that.” She sighed and shook her head in evident frustration. “Am I
making any sense at all?”
“A lot of sense,” Rebecca said. “I know exactly what you mean, but I’m
amazed to be hearing it from an eleven-year-old girl.”
“Almost twelve.”
“Very grown up for your age.”
“Thank you, ” Penny said gravely.
Ahead, at a cross street, a roaring river of wind moved from east to
west and swept up so much snow that it almost looked as if the Avenue of