The Apple of His Eye

Author’s note:

This story takes place during the end of Di’s junior year of high school and Mart’s senior year. The idea came to me while the kids in my class were taking their end-of-the-year standardized tests and was written at my desk. Ah, just think about how much fanfic could be written if they had to take those tests every day. J

After turning off the engine to his old rattletrap of a car, Mart Belden took a deep breath and opened the driver’s side door. He needed some fresh air. Instead of immediately stepping out of the vehicle, he waited a few minutes, hoping it would help calm his frazzled nerves. Terrified that he wouldn’t make it through the evening alive, his mouth went dry, his stomach churned, his hands grew sweaty, his knees wobbled, and three full-grown bullfrogs had suddenly become lodged in his throat. The feeling was pure agony. If he had to endure this torture for anyone else, Mart would’ve already begged for mercy. Keeping his mind focused on the prize, he forced himself to get out of the car.

Now comes the hard part, Mart thought with a wince.

Walking had always been easy enough; he’d been doing it for years. However, on this particular night, it proved to be quite the challenge. You can do this, Belden, he coached himself. Just put one foot in front of the other, and keep repeating the process until you’re there. It’s not that hard.

Groaning out loud, he assessed the seemingly easy course set before him. There were a mere hundred feet between Mart and his destination, but suddenly, that short distance appeared more treacherous for him to traverse than Death Valley. In fact, he would rather plunge to his death by barreling down Niagara Falls than continue sauntering up the smooth concrete path on which he was currently traveling. And yet, something, or rather someone, compelled him to keep walking in spite of the impending danger.

Diana Lynch was waiting for him, and if it meant being with her, Mart would gladly climb the tallest mountain, swim the deepest ocean, and all the rest of that poetic crap. And for that reason alone, he continued his excruciating trek to her front door.

Although he’d walked these exact same steps on a hundred separate occasions, this visit was different. This time he was picking up Diana for their first date. It was an evening he knew he’d remember for the rest of his life, no matter how it turned out. Tonight, he would either win his greatest victory or suffer his most agonizing defeat.

Mart quickly surveyed the property for any sign of human life. Other than the croaking frogs, chirping crickets, and the occasional hoot of an owl, he was alone. Confident he wouldn’t offend the wildlife by his actions, Mart stuck his nose under his left armpit and inhaled deeply. After repeating the process with his right one, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Whew,” he muttered softly. “That half a stick of Right Guard® I applied seems to be doing its job. Let’s pray it keeps the stink away for a few more hours.”

A hasty peek at his watch told him that he was over a half-hour early. Even though he was anxious to see Di, the thought of beginning this date made him sick to his stomach. For years he’d secretly pined for the prettiest girl in all of Sleepyside. He wasn’t sure exactly when his crush turned into full-fledged love, but it had. Without a doubt, he was truly, madly, and deeply in love with Diana Lynch.

And that realization made him want to hide in a bush and throw up.

Before this evening, Di had always been a faraway star, lighting up an otherwise dark sky. She sparkled from her post in the heavens high above him, and as long as he could remember, Mart had been standing under her with his arms outstretched, wishing he could have the honor of catching her if she fell to the earth. From a distance, he had been content to admire her. Her beauty, her effervescence, her brilliance… Mart had marveled at her for so long that she’d become a part of him. Di’s resplendence had been seared so deeply into his conscience that if he went blind tomorrow, her memory would always shine through the darkness.

Tonight, however, things would change. Instead of admiring her from a distance, his wish had been granted, and he’d have the opportunity to hold a piece of heaven in his hands. Against all odds, he had a date with the most beautiful girl in the world. Of all the princes in the world, she had chosen to go out with him. Mart felt just like a frog about to be kissed by the fairy tale princess.

This is it, buddy, Mart thought to himself. This is the moment you’ve been waiting for since you were six-years-old, so don’t blow it. You only go on one first date with someone, so you’d better make this the best night of Di’s life. And if things go well, neither one of us will ever go on another first date again.

The severity of the situation caused Mart’s broad shoulders to droop. This was more than “just” a date to him; this evening, his future with Diana Lynch would be weighed in the balance, and he didn’t have a clue how he’d measure up. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this girl, and he hoped by the end of the evening, she’d be in agreement to his plan.

Okay, so maybe that plan’s a bit ambitious for our first date, he thought with a scratch to his chin. Perhaps I should make that my goal for our second date…

Mart took a deep breath in an attempt to muster his courage. He swiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead, wishing that his hands would quit shaking. For a moment, he thought he heard an army approaching him under the veil of darkness; however, he realized the cacophony of footsteps in the night was merely the sound of his own heart thumping madly against his chest.

Annoyed by his own paranoia, Mart decided it was time to face his fear. He reached out to ring the doorbell, but before his finger could hit the button, the door opened. Much to his surprise, instead of the Lynches’ butler, Harrison, the towering form of Edward Lynch greeted him.

“Mr. Lynch,” Mart croaked, looking up, up, up to meet the taller man’s gaze. At 5’10, he felt dwarfed by Diana’s father, who had at least a good six inches on him. Strange, I’d never really noticed how big Mr. Lynch is, he thought as he appraised the barrel-chested giant facing him. Has he grown since the last time I saw him? Or am I shrinking?

“Good evening, young man,” Ed countered, his tone formal and his carriage stiff. “Did you come over to chat with me this fine evening?”

Mart tugged at the collar of his green polo shirt, which seemed to have suddenly shrunk ten sizes. “Well, actually, sir, I’m here to pick up Diana. I have the honor of escorting her to the Cameo for a cinematic presentation on this lovely night.”

From his spot in the doorway, Ed clasped his fingers and made a show of loudly cracking his knuckles. Mart couldn’t help but take note that those fingers were attached to very large hands, which in turn were attached to arms that were so thick that they resembled small tree trunks. At first glance, Diana’s father appeared to be just another overweight middle-aged man; however, upon further inspection, Mart noticed how solid he was. Sure, Ed Lynch had packed on a few pounds around the middle through the years, but it was obvious that he had once been an athlete. A very strong athlete who could likely pummel him to a bloody pulp.

“Of course, I’m thirty minutes early, so we can chat if you’d like,” Mart added in a squeaky voice.

Oh, crap! he berated himself. That was a dumb thing to say! You don’t want to make him think that you want to have a big powwow with him! Just go in the house, grab Diana, and make a run for it!

“I’m just pulling your leg, son,” Ed told him sternly. “I love a good joke.”

It’s a good thing that Mr. Lynch told me he was joking, Mart reflected wryly. His stern demeanor, while perfect for running a dictatorship, doesn’t exactly scream comedian. Oh, crap, he’s talking again, and I’ve been so busy entertaining myself with this internal monologue that I’ve missed half of what he said!

“…told me you’d asked to escort her to a movie this evening,” Ed was saying. “My little girl tells me everything, you know.”

The Adam’s apple in Mart’s throat bobbled slightly as he received the veiled message, which could be translated as: If you try anything, Diana will tell me and you will die a very slow and agonizing death.

“It’s nice that you and Di have a good, solid relationship, Mr. Lynch,” Mart declared, his voice full of false bravado. “Strong family relationships are greatly lacking in today’s society. Yes, sirree, there would be a lot less wrong with the world if more parents would show an interest in their children. A close familial bond is an essential element of a strong community, if you ask me.”

Realizing his mouth had turned into an entity far more powerful than his brain, Mart concluded his ramblings with a nervous clearing of his throat. Shut up, you moron! he silently screamed. Mr. Lynch didn’t ask you, so why don’t you quit rattling on and on, you big dope? Now, don’t say another word until he says something!

However, the temptation to continue making a fool of himself was too great for Mart to resist. Forgetting the vow he’d just made, he blurted out, “So, how ‘bout those Yankees?”

“I’m more of a Mets man myself,” Ed remarked gruffly.

“Me too,” Mart agreed enthusiastically, desperately hoping Mr. Lynch wouldn’t ask who his favorite player on the team was. God, he prayed, I know You’re loving and merciful, so if it’s not too much trouble, could You please afflict me with a sudden case of laryngitis? Nothing too serious; just something that will last another twenty-nine minutes or so and keep Mr. Lynch from wanting to kill me. And by the way, I’m sorry for that tiny fib I just told about the Mets.

Although God didn’t take Mart’s voice away, He did allow Ed to speak next.

“I saw your dad in town earlier today,” the older man commented. “We had lunch together.”

“My father has always spoken highly of you, sir,” Mart responded. “He’s told us many times about how you played football together.” Good thinking, Belden! Surely Mr. Lynch will trust me with Di since he and Dad were buddies. For once, you’re on safe ground, so keep going with this. “Dad has a bunch of funny stories about when you guys were teenagers,” he continued.

Ed chuckled. “Yes, Peter and I had some exciting adventures when we were your age. Sometimes, I really miss the good ol’ days.”

“You know, Moms says I’m a lot like Dad,” Mart informed him proudly.

“Is that so?”

Mart nodded, finally daring to hope he might actually make it out the door with Diana on his arm. Much to his disappointment, those hopes were quickly dashed as Ed’s mood immediately soured.

“I certainly hope you’re more careful than your father and I were, son,” Ed lectured sternly. “It’s a miracle one of us didn’t end up dead or in jail with some of the shenanigans we pulled.”

With a snort, Mart shrugged his hands into the front pockets of his tan Dockers. “Well, I’m not exactly like Dad…” He attempted to chortle, but because of the precariousness of the situation, his forced chuckle sounded more like a cat puking up a hairball than a genuine laugh. “So, is Diana ready to go?”

“According to my watch, you’re still twenty-five minutes early,” Ed pointed out. “Why don’t you come inside and we’ll have that chat?”

“Uhh… okay,” Mart agreed, willing all the hesitancy out of his voice. He gulped as Mr. Lynch stepped back to usher him into the foyer of the mansion.

“I was kind of surprised when you answered the door,” Mart commented in a lighthearted fashion as he walked through the doorway. “I expected to see Harrison standing there.”

“I gave the staff the evening off.” Ed’s grave tone caused the hair on the back of Mart’s neck to stand on end. The sensation worsened as the bigger man firmly closed the door behind him, dead-bolted it, and then added in a voice eerily similar to Vincent Price’s, “I didn’t want there to be any witnesses.”

Mart’s first instinct was to run for the hills; unfortunately, his knocking knees refused to cooperate. He stood rooted to the spot, easy prey for the maniacal Edward Lynch, who was cackling like a demented hyena about to be served lunch.

“I should probably call my parents,” Mart finally managed to choke out. “They’ll be wondering where I am.”

“Why, it’s not even seven o’clock,” Ed said. “Last I heard, your curfew was eleven.”

“W-well, it is,” Mart stammered, “b-b-but you know what a worrywart Moms can be. Good son that I am, I-I like to check in with them every hour or so.”

Through narrowed eyes, Ed studied the young man before him. “Aren’t your parents spending the evening in White Plains?” he inquired solemnly. “That’s what your father told me when I ran into him earlier.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot.” Mart attempted to spread his lips in a grin, but his trembling chin made it impossible. Biting back his fears, he guffawed loudly as he passed his concerns off a joke. “I guess I’ll have to tell them I’m okay when I get home later tonight. I mean, I will make it home okay, right? It’s not like you’re planning to dismember me with a chainsaw or anything.”

“You have no reason to worry,” Ed dismissed with a slight shrug. After a dramatic pause, he added, “I don’t have a chainsaw. I’d have to hack you up with a butcher knife, and that would take far too long.”

Mart’s eyes widened to twice their usual size. To mask his terror, he barked out a laugh. “Ha! That’s a good one, Mr. Lynch. You really got me there! You’re such a fun guy!”

“The fun’s only beginning, son,” Ed answered, his mouth forming a secretive close-lipped smile. “Why don’t we go in the kitchen so we can talk?”

Mart’s frightened gaze darted to the winding staircase leading to the second floor of the estate, wishing Diana would suddenly appear and rescue him. Much to his disappointment, the mansion seemed devoid of any other human presence. “But what if Di comes downstairs and doesn’t know I’m here?” he inquired hesitantly. “I’d hate for her to think that I stood her up.”

“If Diana is anything like her mother, I can assure you that you have a good thirty to forty minutes until she makes her grand appearance,” Ed informed him matter-of-factly. “That’s plenty of time for us to have a little snack.”

“That’s kind of you to offer, sir, but I couldn’t eat a bite.” Mart placed a trembling hand on his rolling stomach. For the first time in his life, the thought of food made him violently ill.

“Come on,” Ed needled. “Your giant-sized appetite is legendary around these parts. Surely you could eat a little something.”

Mart held up a hand in protest. “I really shouldn’t, sir. Di and I might stop at Wimpy’s later an—”

“No, no,” Ed interrupted. The large man placed one of his meaty paws on Mart’s shoulder and squeezed. Hard. “I insist.”

A million excuses why he shouldn’t follow Mr. Lynch into the kitchen flitted through Mart’s mind. And although the majority of those excuses entailed bloodshed, pain, and mutilation (more specifically his bloodshed, pain, and mutilation), Mart found himself agreeing. “O-o-okay.”

Like a prisoner on his way to the gallows, Mart followed Diana’s gigantic father to the spacious kitchen. Having lived with Trixie for the majority of his life, the middle Belden boy was no stranger to tight spots, and immediately his self-preservation instincts kicked into gear. Positive that Mr. Lynch had brought him into the kitchen to murder him, Mart glanced around the kitchen as casually as possible, searching for the easiest route of escape. Since that route was currently being blocked by a rather large, scary man out to kill him, Mart changed his tactics and scoped out the room for something he could use as a weapon in case he needed to defend himself. Just as he was about to grab a broom and joust his way out, Mr. Lynch turned and began pilfering through the cabinets.

Either we’re really going to have a snack, or he’s going to pull an uzi out of that Lazy Susan and shoot me full of holes, Mart deduced. He relaxed a little as Mr. Lynch began taking out various boxes and bags and inspecting them.

“This has too much sugar,” the older man grumbled as he studied the nutritional information on the back of the box. He put the snack cakes back in the cupboard and pulled out a box of crackers. “And this has too much sodium. Stupid diet.”

“Trying to lose weight, sir?”

“Unfortunately.” Ed turned around to smirk at the teenager. “According to Dr. Ferris, my blood pressure and cholesterol are high, so he put me on a low-fat diet. Low-taste is more like it.” He cast a yearning glance back at the box of Little Debbie Swiss Rolls®.

Mart leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner and nodded at the cupboard of goodies. “Go ahead and sneak one; I won’t tell.”

Ed’s mouth watered as he gazed longingly at the chocolate delicacies beckoning him. “No, I can’t.”

“Come on,” Mart cajoled. “One snack cake won’t kill you.”

“No, that Swiss Roll might not kill me, but Mrs. Lynch will I’m sure she’s counted these and knows exactly how many are left.” Setting his jaw in a determined manner, Ed closed the door to temptation. “Let’s see what else we can find. There has to be something sweet around here that I’m allowed to eat.”

In spite of the stressful predicament, Mart had to grin. In a warped sort of way, it comforted him to know that the man who was currently scaring the crap out of him was afraid of someone, too.

“Here we go!” Ed triumphantly lifted a blue ceramic bowl filled with apples and oranges. “Dr. Ferris didn’t tell me that I couldn’t have fruit.” He carried the bowl over to the table, set it down, and then walked over to the island in the center of the kitchen. After locating a wooden cutting board, he began pulling knives out of a large butcher block, trying to find one suitable for paring fruit. “Go ahead and sit down, Mart,” he directed. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

“No, I’m fine, really…”

Quick as a wink, Ed unsheathed the largest butcher knife from the block and used it to point towards the table in a menacing fashion. “Sit!” he bellowed.

Although he was anxious to grant the request as promptly as possible, Mart resisted the urge to plop down on the floor like an obedient Golden Retriever. He wasted no time finding a chair, and as he scrambled into that seat, the frightened teenager kept one eagle eye on Mr. Lynch. His azure gaze locked onto the big butcher knife Diana’s father held, expecting it to be exchanged for a smaller blade traditionally used for cutting up fruit. However, instead of going back in the butcher block, the ten inches of sharpened stainless steel crept closer and closer. Mart held his breath as the maniac who wielded the weapon claimed the seat beside him.

Either Ed Lynch was unaware of the terror he was inflicting upon his guest, or he was an extraordinarily gifted actor. Seemingly oblivious to Mart’s plight, he set the knife down within his reach, selected an orange from the bowl, and prepared to peel it. “So,” he began in a casual tone, “what’re your plans for my daughter this evening?”

“I’m taking her to the movies,” Mart managed, his eyes fixed on the knife. He wondered briefly if he could grab it and make a break for the door before Mr. Lynch caught him. In the end, he decided it wasn’t worth the risk.

“And where else will you be stopping?” Ed prompted.

“I’m not sure,” Mart replied with a shrug. “Like I said before, we might stop at Wimpy’s for something to eat.”

“Anyplace else?” The older man’s eyes were like drills, boring deep beyond the flesh of his victim.

“I don’t know,” Mart squeaked out, writhing in discomfort under the immense scrutiny. Still feeling like he wasn’t giving the correct answer, he assumed a doubtful expression. “Do you want me to take her someplace else?”

“Not particularly. However, there are certain places that I do not want you to take my daughter.” Ed’s eyes blazed with unspoken threats. Although he hadn’t given Mart a list of places Diana wasn’t allowed to go, Mart had a pretty good idea that all of Sleepyside’s popular make-out spots comprised that list.

“And if you do take her to one of those places…” Deciding his threat might be taken more seriously if he provided Mart with a visual, Ed held up the orange he had been peeling.

Mart’s skin turned ashen as he watched Diana’s father wrap his powerful fingers around the hapless orange. As Mart watched on in terror, the older man continually increased the pressure of his grip on the piece of fruit. The terrified teenage boy practically wet his pants when Mr. Lynch had finished mangling the orange to a messy pulp, gulping as he saw juice streaming down the bigger man’s fingers.

“I understand perfectly, sir,” Mart assured him. “You have my word that my intentions towards Di are honorable, and I’ll comport myself as a perfect gentleman.”

“Cut the crap, Mart,” Ed responded with underlying cynicism. He picked up a napkin and used it to wipe the orange juice from his sticky hands, never once removing his penetrating glare from Mart’s trembling form. “I’m not impressed with your big vocabulary. All I want to know, in fifty one-syllable words or less, is if you intend to behave yourself this evening, granted I allow you to escort my baby girl to the movies. Can you promise me that?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Mart squeaked out in his smallest voice.

Although he was tempted to burst out laughing, Ed kept his intimidating mask in place. Moving on to Phase Two of his mission, he selected an apple from the fruit bowl and held it gently in the palm of his hand. “Do you see this apple, son?”

Mart rapidly bobbed his head up and down. “Yes.”

“This apple’s perfect.” Ed’s expression grew thoughtful as he studied the piece of fruit in an almost reverent manner. “Not a single blemish to be found. The outside is beautiful and flawless, and even more importantly, the inside is sweet and full of flavor.”

“Yeah, that looks like a mighty tasty apple,” Mart commented, his sandy brow furrowed with confusion.

Ed leaned forward in a slightly threatening manner. “Any fool could tell me that this apple looks tasty! What I want to know is if you agree that it’s perfect.”

Mart shrugged as he appraised the bright red piece of fruit. “Well, actually I’m more of a Golden Delicious man myself—”

“But for the sake of this illustration, wouldn’t you agree that this apple is perfect?” Ed prodded with a touch of exasperation.

An apple a day certainly hasn’t kept Mr. Lynch’s insanity away, Mart thought to himself. This guy’s nutty as a fruitcake! Still feeling Mr. Lynch’s eyes boring into him, Mart decided now wasn’t the time to question his interrogator’s mental stability; now was the time to say anything necessary to get out of this predicament alive. Uh-oh. He’s expecting an answer, but what am I supposed to say? If I admit that I prefer yellow apples, he might slit my throat with that knife, but if I lie and say that I like red apples best, he might be able to tell that I’m not being honest and slit my throat anyway…

“As I was saying,” Mart began out loud, “although I’m more of a Golden Delicious man myself, that is the best-looking piece of fruit I’ve come across in a long time. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more tantalizing apple in my entire life. Indeed, it is perfect and without flaw.”

“I’m glad you agree.” Instead of allowing Mart to get up from his current position on the hot seat, Ed intensified his scrutinizing glare. “You know, in spite of the fact that this apple is perfect now, it’s very fragile,” he continued. “If it isn’t handled carefully, it could be bruised, and one little bruise could cause this entire apple to ruin. And wouldn’t that be a tragedy?”

Mart’s mouth twitched as he tried to think of an intelligent response. Oh, this is just great! He mused. A few minutes ago, I couldn’t shut up, and now I can’t think of a single thing to say! Why couldn’t Mr. Lynch be worried about the fate of a giant hoagie, or a bacon double cheeseburger? I could probably muster some sympathy for a hot dog, but an apple?

“Mart, don’t you agree that if this apple was bruised and began to rot that it would be a tragedy?” Ed prodded, his voice now taking on an urgent quality.

Feeling as if he was literally being raked over the coals, Mart wiped away a few beads of sweat from his damp brow. “Well, yeah, but if that apple went bad, couldn’t you just get another one out of the bowl and eat it instead?” he suggested.

“I certainly hope that’s not what you’d do!” Ed bellowed loudly. He angrily slapped his large hand against the table, causing Mart to jump up several inches from his seat. “You just can’t go around bruising apples and then choosing new ones!”

“Of course you c-can’t,” Mart sputtered. “Why, the thought of that is just… just… well, it’s l-l-ludicrous, that’s what it is! Positively ludicrous!”

Ed’s sherry-colored eyes narrowed as he studied the nervous young man sitting before him. Quite unexpectedly, a hearty chuckle bubbled up from his belly, giving credibility to Mart’s theory that he was indeed certifiably insane. “Son, you don’t have any idea what I’m getting at, do you?”

“Not a clue,” was Mart’s candid response. Sighing wearily, he shed the last bit of pride that he still possessed and decided to be completely honest. “Maybe I’m dumb, or maybe I’m just so scared that I can’t think straight, but for whatever reason, I’m as befuddled as Trixie is when she visits the makeup department at Macy’s. You’re going to have to explain it to me, and be sure that you talk slowly and distinctly.”

A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Ed’s mouth. Although some sadistic part of him took pleasure in the fact that he had Mart right where he wanted him, his giant-sized heart felt sorry for the boy. Making sure to keep his tone gentle, Ed launched into his explanation.

“Mart, over sixteen years ago, the doctor handed me a tiny bundle, and she’s been the apple of my eye ever since. Diana means the world to me. That precious little angel wrapped me around her little finger from the first minute she looked up at me with those big violet eyes of hers. It was love at first sight.” Ed paused for a moment to wipe away a tear before it trickled down his cheek. “Someday when you have a daughter, you’ll understand.”

Mart nodded, unable to say a word.

“Ever since my princess was born, she could always count on her daddy to be there for her,” Ed went on. “No matter how big the puddle of spilled milk was, how badly her shoelaces were tangled, or how long the splinter in her foot was, Daddy could always make it better. When she was younger, I could put the chain back on her bicycle, get her kite to fly up in the sky, and glue the handle back on her pretend teapot.”

Mart smiled at the illustrations, but remained quiet.

“But now that she’s older,” Ed continued grimly, “I know there’re some things that I won’t be able to fix, and that scares me. As a parent, you never want to stop protecting your children, especially from the things that can hurt them the most.”

Mart nodded again slowly as he began to understand.

“Years ago, I spent my evenings keeping monsters out from under Diana’s bed.” Ed paused for a moment, and then added wryly, “Now, I spend my time worrying about the monsters that want to get into Diana’s bed. I think you know what kind of monsters I’m talking about.”

“I do,” Mart agreed. He winced as the faces of various would-be suitors flitted through his mind; he’d spent enough time in the locker room at school to know what most guys his age had in mind for a pretty girl like Di. An overwhelming sense of righteous indignation caused the muscles in his jaw to twitch.

Ed cocked a black brow as he examined Mart’s expression. “Something wrong, son? You look upset.”

“Well,” Mart declared firmly, “I just get mad when I think about guys treating Di with disrespect. The thought of someone hurting her really bothers me.”

“I see.” Ed steepled his fingers in a thoughtful pose as he carefully studied the teenager. This examination went beyond the exterior, penetrating into Mart’s very soul. And in spite of his desire to hate the boy, Ed found himself impressed with the kid’s character. “You really care about Diana, don’t you?”

For once, Mart knew he could answer Diana’s father with complete assurance. “I do. I know that there’re a lot of guys out there who’re only looking for one thing from a girl, but you have my word that my intentions toward Di are honorable.”

Mr. Lynch nodded solemnly. “I truly hope so, Mart.”

“You act like you don’t believe me,” Mart said, his tone defensive.

“Son, it wasn’t that long ago that I was a teenage boy myself.” Ed smirked over at the nervous teenager. “So pardon my skepticism, but I’m leery of anybody who wants to date my little girl. I know you mean well right now, and I want to believe you, but I didn’t fall off the turnip truck yesterday.”

“But you’ve known me for years,” Mart remarked. “Doesn’t that count for something?”

Ed chuckled. “Mart, I don’t care how long I’ve known your parents, how high your grade point average is, or how much money you’ve helped raise for UNICEF; you have just as many hormones as all the other punks out there. And if you’re anything like your father or your uncles, you may have more.”

At first, Mart was tempted to argue, but in the end, he decided that Mr. Lynch was probably correct. “It’s kind of unfair to hold a guy’s family against him,” he muttered. “It’s not my fault that the Beldens are such ladies’ men. And I’ll bet Dad could tell me a story or two about you.”

“That’s true,” Ed acknowledged with a thoughtful nod. “Like I said, I was a teenage boy myself once.”

Finally fed up, Mart decided to lash back. “So, since you were a teenage boy once, do you remember what it’s like to be totally crazy about a girl? So crazy that you can’t eat, sleep, or think straight?”

“Yes,” Ed affirmed quietly, picturing one pretty black-haired girl in particular.

“So crazy that you’d do anything for her, even put up with her psycho father as he scares the crap out of you?”

A wry grin parted Ed’s lips. “Yes.”

“So crazy that you’d die before you allowed yourself to hurt her in any way, or pushed her to do anything she didn’t want to do?” Mart demanded hotly.

“Yes,” Ed acknowledged with a nod.

“And just so you know, Di’s the only girl I’ve asked out,” Mart continued, his voice taking on a new passion. “From the first moment I saw her, she’s been the only girl I’ve ever wanted to go out with. She means everything to me, and I’d never do anything to hurt her.”

“I believe you, son,” Ed proclaimed, his tone earnest.

“And I won’t lie to you,” Mart went on. “I am attracted to your daughter. She’s totally gorgeous, and when I look at her, she makes my heart pound out of my chest. I can see how it’d be easy for some guy to lose his head when he’s with her.” After seeing the dour expression on Mr. Lynch’s face, Mart quickly added, “But there’s one difference between me and ‘some guy’, and that’s the fact that I’m not after Di’s body.

“I’m after her heart.”

And with that, a showdown of silence began. Ed Lynch never took his eyes off the teenager for one second, hoping to find a hint of dishonesty in Mart. However, there was no dishonesty to be found. Instead, he saw a young man full of character, integrity, courage, and most annoying of all, genuine affection for Diana. Beyond a doubt, Ed knew he was looking at his future son-in-law. With that realization, he broke the silence.

“Son, I hope you haven’t taken this interrogation too personally. After what happened the last time Diana went out, I had planned on doing this, no matter who her date turned out to be.”

“For the first time this evening, I think I really do understand,” Mart replied solemnly as he tried to forget about the incident Mr. Lynch had mentioned. “When you really love someone, sometimes you have to protect them, no matter whose feelings you hurt.”

After drawing in a deep breath, Ed spoke the words Mart had been longing to hear all evening. “Mart, I want you to know that I’m going to trust you with Diana, and I’m counting on you to not let me down.”

“So, does this mean that I can take out Diana with your blessing?” Mart inquired, his blue eyes pleading.

Ed looked at the young man with a newfound, albeit begrudging, respect. “It does.”

“I won’t let you down, sir,” Mart vowed. “You have my word that I’ll take good care of your little girl this evening.”

“I plan on holding you to that.” Ed exhaled loudly and rubbed his throbbing temples with his fingers. “I just hope you know how difficult this is for me. It’s a hard thing for a father to hand over his daughter to some boy, even for just a few hours.”

“Yes, that would be hard,” Mart agreed quietly. Deciding he’d already crossed the line long ago, he went a step farther. “Would it make it any easier knowing you’re handing Di over to someone who cares for her almost as much as you do?”

The sincerity in Mart’s words caused a lone tear to trickle down Ed’s cheek. After gulping back a few more of them, he whispered, “I’m not sure if that makes it any easier or not, Mart. Actually, it makes me wonder if I’m handing her over for forever, rather than for just a few hours.” With a gruff cough, the tenderhearted man selected a yellow apple from the bowl.

Feeling a bit more relaxed now that he had Mr. Lynch’s blessing, Mart commented, “I’m glad we had this little talk, sir. I think it has helped us to understand one another better. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” Ed conceded, studying the apple he held with great interest. After their heart-to-heart discussion, he almost hated to follow through with the rest of his plan. Almost. “Since we’ve been so upfront with one another, I feel the need to warn you what will happen if you do break your promise to me.”

Mart grinned, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen. “Lay it on me, Mr. Lynch.”

Ed held up the yellow Golden Delicious apple. “This is your brain.” He carefully set the piece of fruit on the cutting board he’d placed on the table earlier. “This is your brain if you hurt my daughter.” Quick as a flash of lightning, he grabbed the butcher knife, raised it above his head, and slammed it through the center of the core. Juice splattered all over the table as the apple instantly split into two separate pieces. “Any questions?”

The warm, fuzzy feeling that resulted from their heart-to-heart discussion instantly disappeared and was replaced by intense fear. With a loud gulp, Mart examined the dismembered fruit and the maniacal expression on Mr. Lynch’s face. But mostly, he kept an eye on the huge knife that Mr. Lynch still held. Mart shook his head in response, too frightened to utter a single word. Just as he was about to tuck his tail between his legs and run, a melodious voice coming from down the hall caused him to remain seated.

“Daddy!” Mart heard Diana call. “Daddy, did Mart phone? He was supposed to pick me up a—” Di poked her head through the doorway of the kitchen, and, after seeing Mart sitting at the table with her father, smiled brightly. “Oh, there you are, Mart! I was afraid you’d changed your mind about going out with me.”

Something about the way Diana looked made Mart’s heart explode in his chest. It wasn’t the way her long, silky, ebony tresses hung past her shoulders, although Mart had to admit that her hair was what he liked best about her. It wasn’t the way she licked her lips before she smiled, although he liked that, too. It wasn’t even the way the lavender sundress she wore accentuated her feminine hourglass figure, although he would have to be dead if he didn’t appreciate that. No, although those attributes were quite pleasant, it was the vulnerable expression in her almond-shaped violet eyes that weakened his resistance. In spite of the fact that her features were flawless, her hair was beautiful, and her figure rivaled a pinup girl’s, Di was totally unaware of the fact that she was gorgeous, and that only served to make her all the more attractive.

Her father was right; she was perfect. Perfect for me, Mart thought as he gazed affectionately at her. He forced his wobbly legs to walk over to her, leaned forward, and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. “How could you think such a thing? I’ve been waiting for this night since I was six, and I wouldn’t dream of standing you up.”

“I’m glad.” Di giggled nervously, unaware of the spell she had cast on her date. “Why are you in the kitchen? Don’t tell me that you’re already hungry—”

“Mart and I were just having a talk, sweetheart,” Ed interjected.

Di furrowed her delicate brow in a thoughtful manner. “What about?”

“Oh, just apples and oranges…” Mart quipped with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

Although her father found Mart’s comment hilarious, Di seemed confused. “Apples and oranges?” she repeated, her nose wrinkled in a quizzical manner. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Don’t you two young people have a movie to get to?” Ed reminded them. “You probably should leave if you’re going to make the show.”

“Are you ready, Di?” Mart looked expectantly at his date.

Her smile told him all he needed to know. “I’m ready,” she answered shyly.

The trio made their way through the labyrinth of hallways until they were back in the foyer. A worried Carolyn Lynch breathed a sigh of relief as she passed them.

“There he is,” she murmured happily. “We were getting worried about you, Mart. I was getting ready to call your house and check on you.”

“Mart was hanging out with me in the kitchen,” Ed explained.

“Oh, he was?” One of Carolyn’s perfectly manicured eyebrows lifted in surprise. Discreetly, she examined Mart for any visible sign of abuse. Not finding any bruises, cuts, or severed limbs, she tenuously inquired, “Are you okay, Mart?”

Mart snuck a quick peek at Diana. “Never been better,” he answered honestly.

Still finding it difficult to let his little girl grow up, Ed cringed as he appraised Diana’s outfit. The dress was perfectly modest; the bodice was high enough to conceal her cleavage, and the hemline skimmed her knees. However, the flattering shape of the dress accentuated her womanly curves, the curves Ed liked to pretend his baby girl didn’t have.

“Princess, don’t you think you should take a sweater with you?” he suggested as casually as possible. “It might get chilly tonight.”

“I’m fine, Daddy,” Diana said with a shrug of her mostly-bare shoulders.

“Are you sure, Di?” Mart asked, his brow wrinkled with concern. “I heard it was supposed to be in the fifties tonight, so it might be a good idea to bring a sweater. I’d hate for you to get cold.”

“Well, if you think I need one…” With a flutter of her long, sooty eyelashes, Diana opened the door of the large closet and pulled out an eggplant-colored lightweight sweater. She smiled coyly at Mart as he hustled to drape it over her shoulders.

From his post a few feet away, Ed rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Humph,” he muttered under his breath. “I thought she said she was fine.”

“Look at it this way; at least she’s doing what you asked,” his wife pointed out, hooking her arm through his.

“But still…” Ed watched glumly as the broad-shouldered young man leaned down to brush an ebony tendril behind his princess’ ear. Even more painful than that was the expression on Diana’s face. It was a look of pure adoration; it was the way Diana used to look at him. He slowly released a pent-up breath as he witnessed the painfully poignant scene, too focused on having his heart ripped out of his chest to even notice when Mart opened the front door.

“Bye, Mum and Daddy!” Diana called.

“I’ll be sure to have her home by eleven, Mr. and Mrs. Lynch!” Mart promised.

Carolyn waved at the departing couple. “Have fun! And be careful!”

“Mart!” Ed waited until he had the young man’s full attention. “Take care of my little girl. She’s the apple of my eye, you know.”

Mart smiled in acknowledgment. “You have my word, Mr. Lynch.”

Ed’s gaze shifted to his daughter. “Goodbye, Princess Di.”

Diana impulsively left Mart’s side and ran over to her father. She threw her arms around his waist, nestling her head on his barrel chest. “I love you, Daddy,” she whispered.

“I love you, too, baby,” he murmured, savoring the blissful feeling of holding his daughter securely in his arms. “Call me if you need me.”

“I will.” After standing on her tiptoes to place a kiss on her father’s cheek, Diana hurried back to Mart’s side. Tucking her hand in the crook of his arm, she followed him out the door.

As Ed watched the couple through a window, he was struck by an overwhelming sense of symbolism. For years, he’d watched in amusement as the middle Belden boy chased after his daughter like a little lost puppy with his tongue hanging out. Somewhere along the way, Mart had caught her, and Ed knew that none of their lives would ever be the same. When Mart led his baby girl out the door, Diana wasn’t merely following him to a movie; she intended to follow him for the rest of her life.

Although Ed had known this day would eventually come, nothing could prepare him for the aching in his heart as he watched the young couple leave. He had to chuckle as he saw Mart carefully lead Diana down the concrete path to his car, making sure she kept her footing at all times. His chivalry not stopping there, Mart then had to open the passenger side door of the car, help Diana inside, close the door, reopen the door so he could tuck her skirt tail back into the car to keep it from dragging on the ground outside, and then close it a second time. After getting in on the driver’s side, Mart started the engine and eased out of the driveway so gently that an onlooker would think he was hauling a carload of eggs.

For the first time that evening, Ed allowed himself to relax. No matter what the future held, everything would be okay. In spite of his concerns, he knew Mart would keep his little princess safe. As hard as it was to believe, someone actually loved his daughter as much as he did.

Diana was obviously the apple of Mart’s eye.

Author’s notes:

Every year, I like to write a story in honor of Father’s Day. The Fraynes had always been the subjects I chose to write about for this occasion, but this year, I decided to shake things up a bit. As our daughter gets older, my husband is starting to panic just thinking about the perspective suitors that will someday be lined up outside our door. So this year, I decided to honor fathers everywhere who have had to entrust their little princess to some shifty-eyed punk. Although Peter Belden and Matthew Wheeler asked to be cast in this story, Edward Lynch was the best fit for the part. It was very easy to imagine him scaring the crap out of Mart (and enjoying every minute of it! *g*). I think he played his part brilliantly, so now we all know where Diana got her acting talent.

Thank you, Steph H, for your edits, your encouragement, your spot-on suggestions, and for just being such a special friend. I love you, sweetie!

In case you don’t know, Vincent Price is an old actor known for playing creepy roles. His voice quite often sent chills down many a spine.

The mention of “Golden Delicious” apples being Mart’s favorite was carefully planned. Not only does that just happen to be my favorite kind of apple, the Golden Delicious apple originated in Clay County West Virginia, which is a hop, skip, and a jump from where I live.

I’ve always strived to keep the Bob-Whites real. In spite of their honorable traits and upstanding character, I like to keep them realistic; therefore, I’ve allowed them to have hormones. To paraphrase Ed Lynch, I don’t care how much money they’ve raised for UNICEF, they’re still kids. Good kids, but kids nonetheless.

So, are you curious about why Ed felt it was so important to scare Mart to death? I dropped a bit teaser in there, in case you didn’t catch it. In fact, the original draft of this story gave a lot more detail, but I decided to save those details for another story. I hope you’re intrigued…

In case you’re curious, the “This is your brain,” and “This is your brain if you hurt my daughter” comments were copying an old commercial encouraging kids not to do drugs.

If you think that it’s unrealistic that Ed threatened Mart, then you should see what my dad did when Damon proposed. *snort* It was no accident that Dad had led Damon to his upstairs balcony for their talk. By the end of their discussion, Damon was just thankful that he didn’t “fall” to the ground several feet below; having Dad’s permission to marry me was just the icing on the cake. J