Everybody's Daughter by Marsha Qualey Read Free Book Online Page A

I’d hate to lose them.”
    “The freshman projects?”
    He nodded. He sat on a table and studied the kiln, and Beamer studied him. He was wearing black jeans and a white turtleneck shirt smudged with clay dust. His blond curls were long and falling over his eyes. He brushed them back with an automatic motion.
    “Andy,” she said, claiming his attention.
    “Yeah?”
    “I bet those freshman girls have all fallen in love with you.”
    He considered this seriously. “I think some of them have.” He gave her a sly smile. “I’m just glad to know somebody loves me.”
    “Well, we take what we can get.” She set the bag she had been carrying on a table. “And this is what you get for supper.”
    “Terrific. I’m starved.” He opened the bag and pulled out the contents. Beamer took off her coat and hat and tossed them onto a chair.
    “Ah, Bea, fast-food heaven. Double cheeseburgers, fries cooked in animal fat, caffeine-loaded soda.” He grinned at Beamer. “I only eat like this when I’m with you.”
    “Enjoy it. I know I do.”
    He sat at the table. “Your parents must be heartbroken—their oldest child eating cheeseburgers.”
    “It gives them something to discuss with their friends. Now let’s eat.”
    While they ate they shared stories, Beamer making Andy laugh with her descriptions of the store’s odd moments, Andy venting his frustration with the kiln’s dysfunction. Beamer had just begun to describe a young customer’s proud display of her string of tiny fish when Andy raised his hands.
    “Stop, Bea.”
    “Why? She was so cute.”
    “This is just like we’re married. It’s like we’ve come home at the end of the day from wherever each of us has been and we’re having dinner and we just can’t wait to talk to each other.” He settled back into his chair. “I kind of like it.”
    “I liked it until you mentioned the word married .”
    “Don’t you ever think about it? About being married?”
    “I’m a high school junior, Andy. I never, never think about it.”
    “I do sometimes. Someday I’d like to be married, like my parents are, or the way your parents seem to make it work.”
    Beamer stuffed her food wrappings inside the bag. “You’ll have to ask Allison, then. I never, never think about it.” The joke failed. He crumpled his soda cup and threw it into the trash basket.
    “I need to check the kiln,” he said. When he had again made the adjustment, he rose and turned.
    Beamer had moved to stand behind him, and now they were face to face, eye to eye.
    “I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said. He had a fresh smudge on his cheek. She wiped it away with her thumb.
    He relaxed and smiled. “I’m glad you came tonight.”
    “Me too.”
    He slid a hand around her neck and pulled her toward him. He kissed her on the forehead, the cheeks, the lips.
    Beamer stepped back. “Watch the thermostat, Andy. Too much heat can ruin things.”
    He grinned. “Okay, Bea. I’ll keep it steady.”
    She squeezed his hand and walked away. She stopped at a display shelf of finished pottery pieces and carefully picked up a large bowl with a smooth, even glaze of dark green. The outer edge was trimmed with delicate blue flowers woven into a chain. “This has got to be yours.”
    “It is, but why do you think so?”
    “It’s so much better than the others.” She replaced the bowl and pointed to the nearest potter’s wheel. “Make me something.”
    “Bea, it’s not that simple. It takes days to make a finished piece.”
    “I know that. I mean, just make something on the wheel. I want to see how you form it.”
    “I don’t like an audience. It’s nothing personal.”
    “You do it for the freshman girls, don’t you?”
    “I have.”
    She raised her eyebrows. “Well?”
    “I’m wearing a new shirt; potting is messy.”
    “Andy, look at yourself. The shirt is filthy. And you can always take it off.”
    “I never thought I’d hear you say that.”
    “It will be the only