The Point of Vanishing - Maryka Biaggio (large ebook reader TXT) 📗

under his care. You cannot go off on your own.”

“That has been made abundantly clear.”

“You intended to find work?”

“Isn’t that what people do to support themselves?”

“Yes, but you’re not of working age.”

Barbara sat up straight and clenched her hands over her knees. “I learned to type when I was four. I’ve published two books and sailed halfway around the world. I’ve lived my whole life among highly accomplished and cultured people. Your silly laws make no provision for that, do they?”

“I’m sorry. They don’t.”

“Nor, I’m quite certain, will you make an exception.”

Luke pursed his lips and sighed. “Your guardian, Dr. Schultz, is willing to take you back if you agree not to run off again. Will you agree to that?”

Barbara slumped in her chair. “I refuse to go back there.”

Poor put-upon Mr. Luke rubbed his brow. “Were they unkind to you?”

She turned away from him and stared at the anemic-yellow walls. Such indignity and humiliation. God, she hated this pawned-off life of hers. And the parents who’d done the pawning.

“Barbara, if there was a problem at the Schultzes, I don’t want you going back there either. But you must tell me.”

“No, they were not unkind.”

Luke planted his forearms on the table. “May I ask why you ran off?”

“I did not ‘run off.’ I simply decided to live another kind of life.”

“Why San Francisco?”

“I loathe Los Angeles.”

“There’s not much I can do about that, Barbara.”

She fastened her gaze on his sad-dog eyes. “I’m not asking you to do anything at all.”

“You’re my responsibility, Barbara, until we can make arrangements for you to stay with a responsible party. Do you understand that?”

Honestly, she thought, if he says my name in that unctuous way one more time, I’ll scream. “I take issue with that, Mr. Luke. I really do, Mr. Luke.”

“I’m sorry, but that is the simple reality. I’m prepared to do whatever I can to resolve this matter to your and your parents’ satisfaction.”

“What did my father say?”

“I think it’s best if you hear it from him. He wants to speak with you.”

“Oh my, after not writing to me for ages, he wants to talk to me. Congratulations on accomplishing what I couldn’t.”

“I know your parents are separated, and I understand that’s painful, but I’m sure he cares about you.”

Barbara saw no reason to carry on about family matters with a meddling stranger. She crossed her arms, dropped her head, and stared at him out of the tops of her eyes.

“I’ve arranged a telephone appointment with your father today. You can take the call in a private room.”

“How generous of you,” Barbara said.

“Is there anything you’d like to talk to me about before your call, Barbara?”

“No, Mr. Luke, there isn’t.”

✭

At 2:50 p.m. Mrs. Morrison led her to a bland box of a room with a pocked-wood table, clunky office chair, and black telephone.

Well, well, now Daddy wants to talk to me. Like it’s any old day. Like he assumes I’d love nothing more than a chat with my dear old daddy.

Barbara studied the white-faced industrial clock on the wall; its ticks reverberated like a dripping faucet. As the hour turned to three, the minute hand clicked straight up. Her heart thumped.

When the telephone rang, Barbara watched it rattle in its cradle three times, picked it up, and slowly drew it to her ear. “Hello.”

She heard the operator say, “Connecting you to your party,” and then a click.

“Hello? Barbara?”

“Yes, hello.” How long had it been since she’d heard his voice? Gosh, almost a year and a half.

“Look,” he said, “I’m sorry after all this time that we’re speaking under these circumstances.”

“It does make me wonder why you’re even bothering.”

“You sound different. Older. God, I’ve missed you.”

She clucked at the dryness of her mouth. “I am fifteen. Before long, I’ll be sixteen.”

“I’m sorry it’s been so long. But you weren’t exactly easy to get in touch with.”

The hair on her arms bristled. “I wasn’t easy to get in touch with? You could’ve called any time last summer. And you hardly ever wrote while I was away.”

“I don’t expect you to understand, and I’m not asking you to. But I hope you can believe I care very much about you and what’s happening with you.”

“You have a highly unorthodox way of showing it.”

“Let’s leave that aside for now. How are you?”

Barbara closed her eyes. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t even want to talk to her father. She snapped her eyes open. “You’ll have to excuse me if I find it difficult to ignore your actions, or lack thereof.”

“What were you doing in San Francisco?”

“Egad. Everybody wants to know what I did in San Francisco. Did you imagine I’d joined the circus? Or landed in an opium den?”

“Frankly, I’m concerned you were planning to run off with that sailor friend of yours.”

“You mean Ethan? You could call him by his name.”

“What in the world are you doing with a sailor?”

“What in the world are you doing with a twenty-year-old?”

“I’ll ask you not to be disrespectful, Barbara. Margaret is a wonderful person. I know you’re very angry about all this, but you mustn’t take it out on her.”

Barbara swiped her tongue over her dry lips. “Yes, of course, you’re the one I should take it out on.”

“Look, I’d like to have a reasonable conversation with you. I’d like to know how you’re doing and what’s going on in your life.”

“What would you like to know?”

“Were you going to run away with this, Ethan?”

“Don’t you think that’s a rather personal question given the distance between us?”

“No, I’m still your father. I know you love sailing, but the worst thing you could do is get swept away by a banal sailor who doesn’t understand the first thing about your potential.”

“I would say he understands me very well. And he’s not banal. He has a big heart and appreciates the poetic side of life. He’s quite learned and, I might add, highly dependable.”

Barbara could hear her father dragging on a cigarette and expelling a deep draft.

“Barbara, you’re