Chapter 13
George Hammond had barely been in his house ten minutes before he heard the front door slam.
"Dad! Dad, where are you?"
His eldest was after him.
He drank from the glass of ice water he'd poured, took a bite of the sub sandwich he'd grabbed on the way home, and waited on the den steps.
"Dad, I know you're here! I talked to your aide a little while ago and he said you got home this evening," she yelled from the living room, "and you were on your way here."
He was in for it, he could tell.
Hammond heard her putting away the jug of water. She'd made it to the kitchen. There was a rustle of paper; she was cleaning up the sandwich bag. The trashcan lid banged shut. "Dad, I saw the wet tracks in the driveway leading into the garage."
Sandy would have made a fine detective, he thought. He took another bite of his sub.
"Dad! You'd better answer unless you're in the shower or so help me-"
She had his temperament, that's for sure.
"What are you yellin' for? I'm right here," he said, coming down the steps as she stormed into the den. "It's eleven o'clock at night- I could have been sleeping!"
Sandy crossed the room and raised one eyebrow.
"Fat chance! You haven't gotten to bed before midnight in the past twenty years and haven't been home to sleep in your own bed in the past three weeks!"
Oh, boy! George thought fast- how to head this off?
"So…how's things with my favorite granddaughters?" he asked hopefully.
"Dad, you and I are going to have a little talk."
He waved the half-eaten sandwich in the air. A piece of lettuce fell on the floor. "Can't I even finish this and change clothes?"
"No." Sandy picked up the lettuce then sat on the couch and patted the seat next to her. "Pretty soon the phone will ring and you'll be off, apologizing for leaving."
George sighed. Maggie, though a sweet and charming woman, had a streak of iron in her that few others ever saw. Sandy had it, too.
He wrapped the crumpled wax paper around the remains of his sandwich and put it with the water on the coffee table, then sat. Sandy gave him a bit of the stink eye and leaned over to place the glass on a coaster. George rolled his eyes and waited.
"Now, Dad," Sandy began, her voice sugary. "You know Sara and I love you and we try to stay out of your business…"
But… he thought.
"But, we can't just sit idly by watching and not say a thing when we know something is wrong."
"Lord, no," he muttered, "you can't do that!"
"What? I didn't-"
"I said, 'I know that'."
"Good." She relaxed. "I'm glad you see it my way and want to talk about it."
"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say-"
"You've been looking worse and worse- just terrible!"
"Thanks," he replied dryly.
"You've been hiding out at that mountain-"
"It's called work."
"-working around the clock-"
"It's called responsibility. Speaking of which, how are the girls? Did you tuck them in bed before you took off, chasing after me?"
"Don't try to distract me. – you're rarely coming out to see anyone…including the girls."
His daughter had him there.
She took a deep breath. "I know you care about Kathryn."
"Sandy, I don't think-"
"And, I know you were hurt when things didn't work out between you."
"Really, it's not-"
"But, Dad, it's not the end of the world."
George groaned and let his head fall back against the couch. His daughter was lecturing him about love!
"I know it hurts now," she said gently, taking pity on her father's slumped figure. "But one day…one day you'll look back and-"
Oh, please! He covered his eyes with his hand. Don't say 'laugh!'
"-understand it just wasn't meant to be."
His own words come back to haunt him. He dropped his hand. Sandy was watching him.
"There's other fish in the sea?" he asked.
"Well, yes, but I always hated when you said that," she replied, with a laugh. She became serious again. "Dad, the hurt will ease-"
"Sandy, honey, I'm not in any pain. Things are just fi-"
"You just hold it in too much."
"Hold what?"
"Your feelings." She laid her hand on his arm. "Get in touch with them. Let them out."
"I know doggone good and well how I feel!" Had she been talking to Teal'C?
"Dr. Phil says-"
"I don't give a hoot what Dr. Phil says. Everything is-"
"If you hold it in, it'll only get worse."
"Sandy, everything is fine!" he yelled.
"That's the spirit, Dad! See, don't you feel better already?"
What he felt was a headache coming on.
He scooted around to face her, looking her square in the eyes.
"Everything is fine! It was just a misunderstanding."
Her eyes widened. "What? A misunderstanding?"
George nodded and grinned. "Yep, got it all straightened out tonight.
Her eyes narrowed. "You mean to say you sat here and didn't tell me! You couldn't take a moment to call your own flesh and blood who've been worried sick about you and-"
Oh, Lord! George raised a hand. "Wait!"
She sat, watching him with a look that made him want to turn tail.
"Like I said, it was only a misunderstanding and it's no longer a problem."
For a moment, he thought she was going to launch into another bombardment, but her expression changed into a beautiful smile and she flung her arms around his neck.
"Daddy, I'm so happy for you!" she squealed. She sat back, up on her knees. "When's the wedding?"
"Wedding?"
"Come on, you're not getting any younger! When?"
"Well, I don't-"
The phone rang.
"I gotta go get that," he said with a sigh of relief. He jumped up and nearly ran to the phone under his daughter's sharp-eyed stare. It was, he knew, only a temporary escape.
His hand froze on the still jangling phone.
When was the wedding?
George grinned like man given the world.
Not so serious, I know, but I liked George being harrassed by his daughter.
So...should there be a wedding or jump straight to the honeymoon?
