He wore a gauze bandage on his forehead, and his face was pale and sweaty beneath the mottled purple and yellow bruises ringing his eyes. The doctors had performed all the necessary tests and were certain there was no internal bleeding and no permanent damage. It was a quiet drive home. With Andie tense and anxious, and her father stubbornly silent, hardly a word was spoken. She'd stayed the night at her dad's place to take care of Daisy and had gotten, if she was lucky, a few hours of sleep near daybreak. Keyed up and jittery, her nerves twanged like the strings of an out-of-tune guitar. But at the same time she was resolute about what she needed to do. Daisy, with tail wagging, greeted Mr. Benedetto as soon as he entered the house. He stroked her head and looked wide-eyed at the disarray around him, as though seeing it for the first time. "I left everything the way it was," his daughter told him, gesturing at the dirty dishes and soiled clothing scattered around the room. "I'm not cleaning up after you anymore." She shoved aside a pile of books and papers on the sofa, gesturing for him to sit.
