Nobody's There

Nobody's There by Joan Lowery Nixon Read Free Book Online

Book: Nobody's There by Joan Lowery Nixon Read Free Book Online
Authors: Joan Lowery Nixon
guilty glance at his wife before he added, “It’s just a sixteen-footer. Got it secondhand.”
    â€œWow!” Davy shouted. “Dad! Could I come and live with you?”
    Dr. Thompson cleared his throat. “Davy, not—”
    Abbie slapped her menu down on the table. She could feel the heat in her face and knew she was blushing. “Be quiet, Davy,” she commanded. “You’re yelling.”
    Davy did lower his voice, but he leaned toward his father, clutching his arm. “Could I, Dad? Could I come and live with you? Now? It wouldn’t take me long to pack.”
    Dr. Thompson’s forehead puckered, and helooked at Davy sadly. “We can’t talk about that now, son,” he said. “Maybe after I’m settled … Your mother …”
    In the silence Abbie watched the expression on her little brother’s face twist from joy and excitement to misery. She instinctively stretched out a hand to touch his arm. “It’s okay, Davy,” she said.
    But Davy shrugged her hand away. “Mom won’t let me, will she?” he cried, tears running down his cheeks. “Why won’t you let me live with Dad, Mom?”
    Mrs. Thompson glared at her husband. “That was cute, putting it on me,” she said. “Tell him the truth. Tell Davy that the decision to leave us was all yours. Tell him you don’t want him around to interfere with your romance.”
    â€œBe reasonable, Sandra,” Dr. Thompson said.
    â€œTell him,” Mrs. Thompson insisted.
    Dr. Thompson pushed back his chair and stood. His back was straight, his expression stern. Abbie could picture him in his intimidating classroom. “Sandra, I stopped by only to give my family a friendly greeting,” he said. “I didn’t expect you to turn it into an unhappy issue.”
    Mrs. Thompson spoke slowly. “You coward! Get … out … of here.”
    Davy twisted in his chair, trying to grab his father’s arm. “Dad, can I go with you? Please?”
    Dr. Thompson bent to touch Davy’s cheek with his own. “You can’t, Davy,” he said sadly. “You heard your mother.”
    As his father strode out of the restaurant, Davy wadded his napkin, shoving it up against his eyes. “I hate you, Mom,” he muttered. “I hate you.”
    Abbie met the gazes of the people who were staring, forcing them to look away. “Mom,” she said. “Let’s go home. We’ve got pancake mix in the cupboard. I’ll make some pancakes.”
    Mrs. Thompson gripped the arms of her chair, her face as blotchy as though she’d been slapped. “Yes, Abbie,” she whispered. “Let’s go home.”
    Davy refused to eat Abbie’s pancakes, and Mrs. Thompson took only two bites before she pushed her plate away. “I’m sorry,” she said to Abbie. “Lately I seem to have very little appetite.”
    As Davy threw open the pantry door and began to cram the pockets of his jacket with packages of peanut butter crackers, Mrs. Thompson asked, “Davy, what are you doing?”
    â€œGetting something to eat,” he answered.
    â€œAbbie made you these perfectly good pancakes. She—”
    â€œI hate pancakes. You can’t make me eat them. I’m never going to eat pancakes again.” He ran to the kitchen door.
    â€œWhere are you going?”
    â€œOutside.”
    â€œWhere outside?”
    Davy turned and glared at his mother. “P.J.’s coming over. That’s okay, isn’t it? I mean, youare going to let me see my best friend, aren’t you?”
    Mrs. Thompson sighed. “Honey, I wish you’d try to understand. If you’d like, we could find a quiet place to talk.”
    Davy didn’t answer. He raced out the kitchen door, slamming it behind him.
    In misery Abbie watched a tear roll down her mother’s cheek. Another followed and

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