‘‘That’s not true.’’ He began to feel sick inside and more than a little scared himself. ‘‘That’s just not true.’’

‘‘You stepped back when I married Jack. Stepped back from me.’’

‘‘You did some stepping back yourself.’’

‘‘Maybe.’’ She turned around again. ‘‘I tried to make it once without you, putting my money away for New York. I couldn’t do it on my own. I was going to make my marriage work without any help. But I couldn’t do that, either. All I had left was the baby inside me, and I wasn’t going to fail there, too. You never even came to the hospital when I had her.’’

‘‘I did.’’ Groping, he picked up a magazine from the table, rolled it into a tube. ‘‘I went up and looked at her through the glass. She looked just like you did. Long legs and long fingers and nothing but yellow fuzz on her head. I went and looked in your room. You were asleep. I couldn’t go in. I didn’t know what to say to you.’’

He unrolled the magazine, frowned at the fresh-faced model on the cover, then dropped it back on the table. ‘‘I guess it made me mad all over again. You’d had a baby, and you didn’t have a husband, and I didn’t know what to do about it. I’ve got strong beliefs about that kind of thing. It’s hard to bend.’’

‘‘I didn’t need you to bend very much.’’

‘‘I kept waiting for you to give me the chance to. I thought when that son of a bitch ran out on you, you’d figure out you needed some help and come home.’’

‘‘So you could have told me how right you were about everything.’’

Something flickered in his eyes that might have been sorrow. ‘‘I guess I deserve that, I guess that’s what I would’ve done.’’ He sat down again. ‘‘And damn it, I was right.’’

She gave a half laugh, weary around the edges. ‘‘Funny how the men I love are always so damn right where I’m concerned. Am I what you’d call a delicate woman, Daddy?’’

For the first time in too long to remember she saw his eyes laugh. ‘‘Hell, girl, about as delicate as a steel rod.’’

‘‘That’s something, anyway.’’

‘‘I always wished you had a little more give in you. Instead of coming once, just once, and asking for help, you’re out there cleaning other people’s houses, working until all hours in a bar.’’

‘‘Not you, too,’’ she murmured and moved to the window.

‘‘Half the time if I see you down on the waterfront you’ve got shadows under your eyes. ’Course, the way your mother’s jabbering, that’ll change before long.’’

She glanced over her shoulder. ‘‘Change?’’