"James Patrick Kelly - Itsy Bitsy Spider" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kelly James Patrick)

"And the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again."
When his arms were once again raised over his head, she giggled and hugged him. He let them fall
around her, return-ing her embrace. "That's a good girl," he said. "That's my Jenny."
The look on his face told me that I had been wrong: this was no act. It was as real to him as it was
to me. I had tried hard not to, but I still remembered how the two of us always used to play together,
Daddy and Jenny, Jen and Dad.
 Waiting for Mommy to come home.
He kissed her and she snuggled under the blankets. I felt my eyes stinging.
"But if you do the play," she said, "when will you be back?"
"What play?"
"That one you were telling me. The king and his daugh-ters."
"There's no such play, Jenny." He sifted her black curls through his hands. "I'll never leave you, don't
worry now. Never again." He rose unsteadily and caught himself on the chest of drawers.
"Nighty noodle," said the bot.
"Pleasant dreams, sweetheart," said my father. "I love you."
"I love you too."
I expected him to say something to me, but he didn't even seem to realize that I was still in the room.
He shambled across die playroom, opened the door to his bedroom and went in.
"I'm sorry about that," said the bot, speaking again as an adult.
"Don't be," I said. I coughedтАФsomething in my throat. "It was fine. I was very ... touched."
"He's usually a lot happier. Sometimes he works in the garden." The bot pulled the blankets aside
and swung her legs out of the bed. "He likes to vacuum."
"Yes."
"I take good care of him."
I nodded and reached for my purse. "I can see that." I had to go. "Is it enough?"
She shrugged. "He's my daddy."
"I meant the money. Because if it's not, I'd like to help."
"Thank you. He'd appreciate that."
The front door opened for me, but I paused before step-ping out into Strawberry Fields. "What
about... after?"
"When he dies? My bond terminates. He said he'd leave the house to me. I know you could contest
that, but I'll need to sell in order to pay for my twenty-year mainte-nance."
"No, no. That's fine. You deserve it."
She came to the door and looked up at me, little Jen Fancy and the woman she would never
become.
"You know, it's you he loves," she said. "I'm just a stand-in."
"He loves his little girl," I said. "Doesn't do me any goodтАФI'm forty-seven."
"It could if you let it." She frowned. "I wonder if that's why Mother did all this. So you'd find out."
"Or maybe she was just plain sorry." I shook my head. She was a smart woman, my mom. I
would've liked to have known her.
"So, Ms. Fancy, maybe you can visit us again sometime." The bot grinned and shook my hand.
"Daddy's usually in a good mood after his nap. He sits out front on his beach chair and waits for the ice
cream truck. He always buys us some. Our favorite is Yellow Submarine. It's vanilla with fat
butter-scotch swirls, dipped in white chocolate. I know it sounds kind of odd, but it's good."
"Yes," I said absently, thinking about all the things Mom had told me about my father. I was hearing
them now for the first time. "That might be nice."

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