So, racing, she ran to her Dad’s room and grabbed the books in his drawer. Closing it carefully, she ran back to her room and closed the door.

Then, lying on her bed with her back to the door so if her brother walked in he wouldn’t see what she was doing, she started with the book that had the earliest date.

And she couldn’t believe what she read.

And she also had absolutely no clue what to think about it.

Her Dad came home before she could finish. Working quickly, she shoved the books between her mattress and box springs and went downstairs to glory in his approval that she and No had his back while he worked. As usual, since Dad noticed everything, he noticed and he was surprised. He was also pleased. This meant he gave her some loving. No didn’t get any, Dad just threw him a grin. But she got loving before he went to get a beer.

So it was all worth it.

*

Between cleaning the bathrooms, doing her homework, making dinner, keeping the kitchen tidy, doing the ironing, hanging with her Dad on the weekend and trying to hide the fact she wanted to be holed up in her room with the diaries by hanging with No and Dad in front of the TV, it took five nights for Clarisse Haines to finish Dusty Holliday’s teenage girl journals.

She read every single word. Sometimes, she read whole passages over and over again. And she studied the drawings closely. And more than once, she kinda cried.

And when she was done with the last one, she knew three things.

One, Dusty Holliday loved her Dad, like, a lot. And she’d loved him that way for years and years and years.

Two, Clarisse thought it was beyond awesome that after all these years they were finally together. She liked that for her Dad, someone loving him like that when he’d had so long of the way her mother treated him. And she liked that for the woman called Dusty because, after that creep (and Clarisse knew him, everyone knew about Dennis Lowe) did what he did to her, she needed a good guy like Clarisse’s dad. Her Dad would look out for Dusty. Her Dad would never let anything like that happen again. Her Dad would make Dusty happy.

And three, Dusty Holliday, when she was a kid, thought a lot like Clarisse. Sure, Clarisse didn’t have her talent. She couldn’t draw. But she liked to write stories and used to do it all the time. She stopped and she didn’t know why. Maybe it was because No was so good with his music, everyone talked about it, Dad, even Mom, their grandparents and all the kids at school went on and on about it. She knew her stories weren’t as good as the way No was with music. Though, she’d never shown them to anyone. Not No, definitely not her Mom, not even her Gran who she knew liked reading and she knew even more that her Gran loved Clarisse. And not her Dad. But Dusty didn’t think anyone “got her” and Clarisse felt the same way. No one got her, these days, not even her Dad.

Dusty Holliday had called her honey in a real way that felt nice. Dusty Holliday had said “you take care, you hear?” and Clarisse thought the way she said that in her really pretty voice was cool. Dusty Holliday had a cool name that was way cooler even than No’s nickname.

And Dusty Holliday loved her Dad from when she was even younger than Clarisse.

So Clarisse couldn’t wait to meet Dusty Holliday.

Dusty Holliday, Clarisse knew, would get her.

And Dusty Holliday, Clarisse knew, would make her Dad happy.

Finally.

No, she couldn’t wait to meet the woman with the cool name of Dusty.

She could…not…wait.

*

The morning after she finished Dusty Holliday’s journals, Clarisse was heading downstairs to breakfast and stopped dead two down when she heard her father say, “No, Merry, I haven’t heard from Dusty. It’s done.”

Weirdly it felt like someone had punched her in the gut.

How could that be?

She didn’t know when it started but she was guessing it hadn’t been going on that long and when she heard her Dad talking on the phone with Dusty, his voice was all soft and nice. And Dusty loved her Dad, like, bunches. Everyone who knew him did. And Clarisse hadn’t even met her yet! How could it be done?

She stayed still and listened as her Dad went on, “I’m not goin’ over this.” There was a pause then, “Man, seriously, do not talk to me about this shit when you haven’t sorted yours with Mia.” Another pause then more annoyed, “I told you, I was a dick to her, three times. The first I was totally out-of-line, the last I don’t even wanna think about. She’s made it clear she’s done. I’ve called her three times. No returns. So it’s done. She’s already got some ass**le makin’ her life a misery right after her brother died. She does not need two.”

Her Dad was a dick to Dusty? That couldn’t be possible. Her Dad wasn’t a dick, not even to her Mom and she deserved it.

And Dusty had some ass**le making her life a misery?

Clarisse didn’t like that.

She refocused when her Dad continued, “Yeah, I told you she was The One. Problem is I made it so I wasn’t The One for her. And unfortunately, I live in The ‘Burg, she lives in Texas. I got two kids to look after and I don’t have the cake to fly down there and throw myself on my sword. And she doesn’t need that shit anyway. She was here, I could make that effort and maybe break through. She’s not here.”

She lived in Texas, that’s why they never met her and Dad was talking to her on the phone.

And if she was here, Dad could win her back.

He’d break through, Clarisse knew it.

Clarisse had to get Dusty back to The ‘Burg.

“It’s done, man, let it go. And if you quit yappin’ about it, maybe I can find some way to let it go too,” her Dad finished and he didn’t sound happy. In fact, he sounded less happy than he’d been all last week.

Therefore, Clarisse knew why he was sad and she knew that he was mad at himself. She also knew the why about that too (partly).

And before Clarisse even knew what she was doing, she turned around, ran back up the two steps and to her room. Then she pulled Dusty’s diaries from between her mattress and box springs. Then she shoved them in her book bag.

Then she took in a deep breath and ran back downstairs, this time calling out, “Hey Dad!” so he’d know she was coming.

*

Finley Holliday stood at the bottom of the stairs and stared down the back hall at his Ma who was standing at the sink in the kitchen. She wasn’t moving. Just looking out the back window and he knew she was seeing nothing. He knew this because she’d been doing this a lot. He’d scared her like he was sneaking up on her tons of times the last few weeks.