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She held her breath as she passed the photograph over to her sister.
Molly touched it gingerly, almost as if she were afraid it would dissolve in her hands, and stared down into her mother's face. An expression of awe came over her. "She's beautiful."
"I think you have her eyes," Phoebe said softly.
"I wish I'd known her."
"I wish you had, too."
"Can I have this?"
"Of course you can. I took it with me when I ran away. I used to pretend she was my mother."
Molly stared at her, and then a sob slipped through her lips. This time it was Phoebe who held her.
"I'm sorry I've been so awful. I was so jealous of you because Bert loved you and he hated me."
Phoebe patted her sister's hair. "He didn't hate you, and he didn't love me, either."
"Yes, he did. He was always comparing me to you." She slowly drew back so that Phoebe was looking into her tear-stained face. "He said that I gave him the creeps, and that I looked like I was going to faint every time he talked to me. He told me you always stood up to him."
Phoebe drew her close again. "I didn't stand up to him until I was a grown woman. Believe me, when I was your age, all I tried to do was stay out of his way."
"You're saying that to make me feel better."
"Bert was a bully, Molly. He was a man's man, in the worst way. He had no use for any woman who wasn't either taking care of him or sleeping with him. That left out the two of us."
"I hate him."
"Of course you do. But when you're older, you may learn to pity him instead." As she spoke, she felt something let go inside her and she realized that her father's rejection had finally lost its power over her. "Bert had two of the best daughters in the world, and he didn't even care. I find that sad, don't you?"
Molly seemed to be thinking it over. "Yes, I guess it is."
As the winter moonlight made a pool on the carpet, their fingers met somewhere in the region of Pooh's topknot.
They squeezed tight.
Chapter 23
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The pep band struck up "Ain't She Sweet?" and the Star Girl cheerleaders formed a tunnel of blue and gold pom-poms for Phoebe to walk through. As she made her way onto the field for the AFC Championship game, she sparkled in a short velvet jacket encrusted with thousands of sky blue sequins, a matching metallic gold tank top and miniskirt, shimmery stockings, and square-heeled pumps with beaded gold stars twinkling on each toe. The crowd greeted her with wolf whistles and cheers while the Star Girls shook their pom-poms and wiggled their hips.
As she waved and blew kisses, she could feel the tension-charged atmosphere in the mood of the crowd and see it in the players' grim expressions as they huddled on the sideline. She avoided looking at Dan while she made her way to the end of the bench for her pregame rituals. Many of the players believed she brought them good luck, and she had been forced by necessity into a routine of thumping helmets, slapping shoulder pads, and slipping lucky pennies into shoes. Bobby Tom, however, refused to give up his good luck kiss.
"We're gonna do it today, Phoebe." He gave her a resounding smack and set her back down on the ground.
"I know you are. Good luck."
She watched as the Sabers joined the Stars on the field. Their starting quarterback had been reinjured in the last game, making the Stars a narrow favorite, but Ron had warned her that, even injured, the Sabers were a great ball club.
As the kickoff approached, she could no longer avoid looking at Dan. She saw the strained tendons in his neck as he spoke into the headset to the coaches' box and then said a few words to Jim Biederot, who stood at his side. Only when the players were in position for the kickoff did he turn in her direction. Their eyes locked, but his expression was blank, revealing nothing of his feelings. She fumbled for his gum in her jacket pocket as he came toward her.
It hadn't taken the fans long to grow familiar with the Stars' pregame rituals, and the crowd watched for the moment when the kicker would tee the ball and Phoebe would pass over the Wrigley's. As Dan drew up next to her, she tried to sound normal.
"I didn't forget your gum."
He studied her for a moment, his mouth set in a tight, hard line. "Bobby Tom gets soul-kissed and I get a pack of gum. I don't think so."
