A Good Yarn Page 0,96

of his. It was never for him, never about what he wanted. He'd squander what little they had on the promise of more. Except that promise had almost always proved to be empty.

Granted, he'd obviously made a certain amount of money through the years - to meet his child support obligations, to travel - but she was sure he'd lost far more than he'd ever won. That was the pattern with gamblers.

"This afternoon I was playing poker," he confessed. "I wanted to talk to you about it first, but I knew you'd be upset. You get this...this look and it rips me up inside. Makes me feel like I've disappointed you again. I couldn't bear to see it."

It hadn't stopped him, though.

"I wore the socks you knit me and felt close to you the entire time I was playing. They brought me luck."

Elise wished she'd given those socks to David the way she'd originally intended.

"I won the tournament, Elise," he said triumphantly.

She refused to answer him. Winning was possibly the worst thing that could've happened. It only made the situation worse. Maverick would feel encouraged. He'd wager more and more until he'd lost everything, including his pride. In those early years, she'd seen him down on his luck too many times, sick at heart, emotionally depleted.

"Don't you want to know how much I won?"

"No!"

"It was my lucky socks," he shouted through the barrier of the door.

Refusing to listen, she turned on her television, blocking out anything else he had to say. She didn't notice when he left, but she checked ten minutes later and he was gone.

Aurora watched her closely as Elise entered the kitchen. She put on a fine performance, if she did say so herself. Thankfully Maverick was out of the house, but she guessed he'd be back for dinner.

"Dad asked me to talk to you," Aurora said. Elise was setting the table for their evening meal. She included a place for Maverick; her daughter would ask too many questions if she didn't. David was in the family room reading the paper and the boys were playing in the backyard.

"He's gambling again," Elise told her, in case Aurora hadn't figured it out.

"I know."

"How long has this been going on?" She was suddenly afraid that her daughter had been in on the deception.

Aurora looked at her. "As far as I know, this was the first time since he got here."

"Listen to me, Aurora," Elise said frantically, clasping her daughter's shoulders. "Your father has a gambling addiction."

"He's a professional gambler." Aurora's voice was unemotional. "Yes, I agree, he can get carried away, but he loves it."

Elise hated that her own daughter couldn't or wouldn't recognize the problem. "Gambling is a disease - not unlike being an alcoholic or using drugs - and it's just as destructive to a marriage and a family." She wanted to remind her that Maverick's love of gambling had destroyed their own family, but she bit back the words. She'd said what she needed to say.

"He isn't as bad as you make him sound," Aurora insisted.

Not wanting to argue, Elise dropped her hands. "He's your father and you love him. I'm not going to say anything against Maverick - except to plead with you to open your eyes and admit the truth."

Aurora's gaze implored her. "He loves you, Mom, he really does."

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I know." Maverick did love her as much as he was able to love anyone - but it wasn't enough. It hadn't been enough thirty-seven years ago and it wasn't enough now.

"He promised me he'd stop as soon as this tournament is over," Aurora said.

Elise had heard all that before, too. "And you believe him?" If this wasn't so tragic, she'd laugh.

"Yes, I do. He's - " Aurora bit her lip.

"He's what?"

"He's doing this out of love for you. To help you. That's what he said."

Elise burst into such loud, derisive laughter that David, who'd turned on the evening news, glanced over his shoulder.

"Then advise him not to love me so much," she whispered. "Furthermore, I don't want or need his help. Can't you see that's only an excuse?"

"Oh, Mom."

"I think it might be best if we didn't discuss your father again." She spoke as if this had been a pleasant everyday conversation.

"You're not going to talk to him?"

"No. I'd appreciate if you'd let me know when he'll be at the house, because I'll make a point of staying in my room or not being here."

"Mom, don't do