“Mike!”
He turned and saw the father of one of Anna’s friends from chorus — Dan Miller, an insurance agent from Incline Village — grinning and shoving a hand at him like a spear.
“Dan,” he said with a smile, shaking the moist hand, “nice to see you.”
“So you decided to let Anna come back for the prom!”
“Yes — yes.”
“White of ya! Couldn’t just pull her out of school a few months ’fore the end of her senior year, and expect her to forget her whole damn life! You’re a good parent, Mike. Good parent.”
“Thanks.” Maybe the punch was spiked. “Have you seen Anna?”
“I think they’re up near the stage, her and Gary. Great to see you! Where are you folks again, these days?”
“Great to see you, too,” Michael said, working his voice up, as if having trouble hearing over the band.
And he edged down the wall, getting nearer the front.
There she was.
His beautiful daughter, looking so much like her mother, her head nestled against the chest of blond athletic Gary, one of the few boys here with shorter hair. They stayed in one spot, moving in a barely perceptible circle, both with eyes dreamily closed, lost in a loving embrace.
Anna wore a white dress with none of the silly frills of these other girls, adorned only by a sheer shawl and the orchid corsage at her wrist, her long brown hair braided and ribboned here and there. Gary’s tux was white with slashes of black lapel.
Michael lurched reflexively toward them, then stopped himself. An empty table — its rightful claimants probably out on the dance floor — presented a chair for him to flop into, which he did. Suddenly he felt tired. Old. His eyes filled with tears, and he swallowed hard. Beautiful. How beautiful, how sweet she looked. Sweet and alive...
Even the thought of those Trojans on the nightstand only made him smile. Hadn’t he and Patsy Ann screwed like rabbits in the backseat of her daddy’s Buick on prom night? What had been so awful about that? He had loved Patsy Ann, and she loved him.
He would let them finish their dance.
“...bridge over troubled water...”
At least the guy was back in tune for the finish. Applause rewarded the band, and most of the kids stayed out there for “Right Place, Wrong Time,” a growly fast number. A few other couples threaded back toward their seats, Anna and Gary among them.
The table where Michael sat remained otherwise empty, and while it didn’t belong to Anna and Gary, the couple’s own seats were nearby apparently, because she spotted her father on the way over.
Freezing.
Emotions, in a rapid wave, traveled her features: anger, worry, terror, indignation, frustration, sadness, even regret.
Gary — petrified beside her, holding her hand — only gazed at Michael blankly. The father knew the look — this boy loved this girl, and he would be a man about any decisions he’d made regarding her, would not be afraid to stand up to Daddy.
Anna started to pull away, but Gary shook his head and walked her over to his girlfriend’s father, who remained seated.
The couple just stood there looking at him, Gary pretending to be calm, Anna with chin defiantly up.
Gary said, “We couldn’t let you keep us apart. We... I... really meant no disrespect, sir. But—”
“Please sit down,” Michael said, his voice calm.
Anna and Gary locked eyes.
“Kids — please. Sit. I’m not angry. Really. Just relieved.”
“I’m sorry if you were worried,” she said, her words cold, her chin crinkly, “but my life isn’t about you and Mom, anymore, Daddy. My life is about me, and Gary.”
“Honey — sit. Gary? Help me out here?”
Gary nodded and guided the girl into the chair beside her father. Still, she sat as far away from him as she could manage.
“Please listen to me, both of you,” he said, firmly but with no anger, nothing judgmental. “I understand what tonight is about — I was...”
“You were a kid d yourself once,” she said snippily.
Gary said, “Anna, please... Give him a chance.”
“Thanks, son. Annie, back home, our—”
“This is home.”
He sat forward. “Sweetheart, our new identities have been exposed.”
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Our cover’s been blown, back in Arizona. Very bad people know the Smiths are really the Satarianos. You’re in danger. Right now. Right here.”
Her eyes flew wide. “My God... Is Mom okay?”
He said, “Baby, we need to leave. Cal-Neva’s just about the worst place on the face of the earth for us, right now. Gary, you should probably stay.”
“I’m going with you,” he said.
“Gary, that’s not—”
“Daddy!”
Her hand was clutching his arm. Tight. Her eyes were big and wet. Her lips were trembling.
“Daddy... Is Mom... is she...?”
“We lost her, baby,” he said gently, and he began to cry. He covered his face with a hand. “I’m sorry... I’m sorry... I have to be strong for you...”
And his daughter was in his arms, holding him tight, and she was crying, too. “Oh, I’m sorry, Daddy, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...”
He held her away from him. Shrugged off the emotion. Cold again, he said, “Listen to me — this was not your fault. You didn’t do this to us, to your mom. If anyone did, it was me.”
“Daddy, Daddy...”
“Listen!” And he shook her, just a little. A few eyes were on them now, so he kept his expression neutral and his voice soft. “We don’t have time for recriminations. We don’t have time to take any blame. A very long time ago, I sat where you’re sitting — I thought I’d caused my mother’s death.”
“Gran’ma... Satariano?”
“No — my real mother.” He turned to Gary, who looked like he’d been pole-axed. “Son, I told Anna and Mike that I was adopted, but I lied to them about something. I didn’t tell them that I knew my real parents, that I grew up with my real parents.”
Anna was shaking her head, tears streaming, ruining her makeup. “I can’t... I can’t... I can’t...”
“Baby,” he told her, “my father told me, ‘It’s not your fault — it’s the business I’m in.’ He told me I wasn’t responsible for my mother’s death, and that neither was he.”
But I am responsible for their retribution, the Angel of Death had said, so long ago...
This memory Michael did not share with his daughter.
“Right now,” he said, “we have to survive. We have to leave this place, and we have to go somewhere else, somewhere safe.”
“Where is safe, Daddy?”
“Anywhere. Anywhere is safer than here... Gary, you shouldn’t come with us. We’ll contact you. You have to trust me, son, you have to believe me.”
The boy was shaking his head. “I love Anna, sir. I can help you. Let me help you.”
“Gary, please.”
“No. I’m coming with you.”
No use arguing with him here. Michael would get Anna out of here, and deal with the Gary problem later.
“I’m sorry to spoil your prom,” Michael said, “but we have to leave this very moment... You two go on out. I’ll meet you in the front lobby.”
Gary nodded and, then, so did Anna.
The hundred or so kids in tuxes and formals were dancing slow again, to “The Morning Aft er,” which sounded even worse when a male sang it.
Michael hugged the wall, kept his head down, hoping no other chaperone would recognize him, among these numerous familiar faces — other parents, and some teachers, too.