We'll Be Alright - Discontinued

Chapter Eight

Marcy entered the house and went looking for her father. She went straight for the garage, knowing if he were home, that would be where he was.

Sure enough, he was. He was under a 1960's chevy truck.

"Daddy?"

He hit his head before rolling out. "Sweetpea!"

"Hi, Daddy." She went to a stool and climbed in.

"What a surprise. I didn't expect to see you." He stood up and wiped his hands on a rag.

"I didn't call." She knew he was thinking he forgot.

"You didn't call about your situation either." He raised a brow. "Your mother is uproared."

Even after all these years in America, Marcus still had trouble with the English language. But then again, so did Marcy. "I haven't answered any of her calls."

"She just wants the best for you."

"She wants details."

"That too." He admitted. "You are having problems with this man?"

She bit her bottom lip. "He seems nice."

"I'm sure plenty of people seemed nice before they hurt you."

It seemed no matter how much time went by, her past still haunted her. "Yeah."

"Who is he? Do we know him?"

"I'm sure you don't. He's a singer. A country artist."

He made a face. Marcus was a music man but he hated country and didn't understand how his daughters could stand to listen to it.

She giggled. "I didn't know at first."

"You must be more careful, Sweetpea."

"I know, Daddy. I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

She looked at him, hurt.

"Because he's not Jr." He guessed.

Her shoulders slumped.

"Jr. is gone, Sweetpea."

"I know. But I wasn't supposed to have any more kids. At least not naturally. I was supposed to remain a widow until I died."

He looked at her like she was crazy. "Why?"

"Mal didn't want me to remarry."

"Jr. died suddenly."

"We talked about those kinds of things. He'd always said he wanted me to be his even in death and that we'd be reunited in the afterlife."

He smirked, knowing Mal had been trying to be romantic and more than a bit possessive. "I think Jr. would forgive you this one transgression."

"But I'm pregnant, Daddy. With twins. By some other man. That proposed."

His brows lifted. "He proposed?"

"Yes." That really hurt her.

"How do you feel about him?"

"I don't know him."

"Do you not think this is the time? Before the bomboloni get here?"

She smiled briefly. Her mother had always called her and her siblings "bomboloni", which was Italian for "doughnuts". "Yes."

Marcus kissed the side of her head. "You get to know this man and then see if you want to marry him. In meantime, hand me that wrench. Look under the hood for me. It is making a clicking sound."