Mosaic - Jeri Taylor [13]
Now Kathryn looked up as she felt his hands on her, pulling her out. She shrieked with glee as he picked her up effortlessly and swung her around the room. "Goldenbird is flying... all around the room... up... and down... and down... and up..." Kathryn's laughter pealed as her father swung her in delicious circles and dips and then finally lowered her to the floor.
"More, Daddy, more," she pleaded, but he knelt down close to her. "I'm sorry, but we don't give free rides around here. What do you have to do for a ride?"
"Earn it."
"And how do you do that?"
"Win the games."
"Are you ready?"
"Yes, Daddy, all ready."
His wonderful face looked down at her. Gray eyes twinkled, sandy brown hair fell over his forehead. Daddy's face always looked happy, she thought. "Very well. Did you work on the sevens?"
Kathryn took a breath, plunged into the scary unknown. "I worked on the sevens... and the eights. And the nines."
His look of amazement was reward enough for all the work she'd done. She giggled again, delighted that she'd surprised him. She knew he'd never have expected her to learn so much.
"Eights and nines, eh? Those are very big numbers for a little girl. Are you sure you want to take this chance? You'll win your ride if you just get the sevens."
"I'm ready. I can do it."
"But if you make a mistake on the eights or nines... no ride."
"I know."
He smiled, and his look of genuine pride made her shiver. "Well, then. Nine times eight?"
"Seventy-two."
"Eight times seven?"
"Fifty-six."
"Seven times four."
"Twenty-eight."
"Eight times eight."
"Sixty-four."
"Nine times... eleven."
She paled. They'd never gone past the tens. She had memorized everything up to a multiple of ten, but eleven represented an area of computation she'd never considered.
"That's not fair, Daddy. We've never done elevens."
"You've proven you can memorize very well. But it's important you learn how to think about numbers. I'm expecting you to move to the next level of mathematics."
Her mind threatened to panic. She couldn't do this, he was betraying her. How could she answer something she'd never even thought of? She would have to admit to him that she couldn't do it.
This last thought ripped through her mind, searing it like a jagged lightning strike, and she felt the beginning of tears sting her eyes. Daddy was looking at her, patient but unyielding. She knew he would not back down, would not simply take pity on her. He would expect her to come up with the answer. That realization was somehow calming to her, and she sank to the floor, sitting with her legs crossed and her hands folded in her lap, eyes closed. She forced her mind to close out the room, the grandfather's clock, and Daddy's presence looming above her. She concentrated on the numbers, trying to see them in front of her. Nine tens was easy. She learned weeks ago that for ten times anything you just added a zero. So nine tens was ninety. She tried to see them in her mind, lined up in ordered rows: nine lionfish in one row, nine lionfish in a second row, nine lionfish in a third row. She proceeded this way until she could see all ninety fish, whiskered and malevolent, spread out in her mind's eye. If those were ten rows, she needed only add one more row. Eleven rows of fish... eleven nines. Ten of them are ninety, and if she added nine more- "Ninety-nine." She opened her eyes and looked up at him. He was regarding her with a strange expression that she did not come to understand for a long time. He swooped down and lifted her up, holding her close to his chest. For a long time he didn't say anything, and she was terrified she had made a mistake.
"Is that right, Daddy?" Her voice was a whisper. "Exactly right." He sat her down and tousled her hair. "What a clever Goldenbird you are. How did you do that?"
The smile erupted on her face. "I could see the numbers. I