"Come in, Dad."

He opened the door and came inside, shutting it behind him. In the soft light from her bedside lamp Julie looked at her father. He was nearly six feet tall, with broad, slightly stooped shoulders. Julie thought he was the handsomest man she had ever seen, and there were many women who agreed with her.

What made him attractive, though the teen-ager didn't know it, was Al's sense of caring. He radiated compassion and understanding, and his daughter enjoyed his company more and, more each day.

"You okay, sport?" Al sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at her.

Julie nodded, a shy smile on her face. There was so much she wanted to say, but somehow she couldn't let it out.

"Honey, your mother's scared." Al looked at the wall behind Julie's head. "She's scared because you're growing up – and that means she's growing older."

"But she's thirty-nine. That's not old," Julie protested.

"I know," her father sighed. "But logic and emotions get all mixed up. She resents the fact that you look better in a bathing suit than she does now, or so she thinks. And then, there's…" His voice trailed off and he smiled at the girl.

Julie blushed and looked down at the bed cover, tracing the pattern sewn on it.

"It's all right, honey. It's normal, natural and a lot of fuss. If your mother were up to it, she'd tell you the same thing, and probably give you some hints on how to make it feel even better."

"Mom?" Julie gasped. "Never! She never did it, did she?"

Her father chuckled. He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.

"You'd be amazed what your mother's done." He got up and took the history book out of her hands.

"Get some sleep, honey. It's later than you think, and you've got school tomorrow."

Julie slid down in the bed and held up her arms. Al smiled at her and bent down, giving her a gentle hug and a kiss. He patted her shoulder reassuringly.