Chapter Thirty-Seven

Elijah

 

My hands trembled around my steering wheel as I pulled in front of my house. Taylor smiled at me warmly and then turned to the back seat to ask Bailey if she was ready to see her new home. I swallowed hard as I opened the car door. Bailey had been excited, chanting that she had two homes, all the way from her mother’s house to my street, but she was quiet now.

I opened her door and leaned down to unfasten her buckle, but her little hands pushed mine out of the way. “I can do it. I’m a big girl,” she said, her crooked smile spreading across her face as she worked open the belt. I chuckled as she lifted from her seat, her little arms reaching for my neck. I lifted her from the seat, held her securely in my arms, and took a deep breath. This was it; no turning back now. Everything I had completed inside, everything I did to turn that house into a home was now ready to be critiqued by the most important woman in my life, one of the most important women in my life.

“Are you excited?” Taylor asked, her own voice filled with enthusiasm. Bailey nodded, but then shoved her face into my shoulder as I walked towards the house. I knew she had to be scared, probably confused as well. In her world, life on the small island, mommies and daddies lived together, and kids had one house, not two. Even so, Bailey had been a trooper, through it all. She just needed some time to get used to the place. I’d do everything in my power to make her comfortable here. I’d promised Kellie I’d bring her home if she was too afraid to stay the night, but I really didn’t want to do that. I wanted her to sleep in her new bed, to see how much effort I’d put into making her room perfect.

Taylor opened the front door while I carried Bailey inside. She still had her face buried into my shoulder, and her little hands clung to me as I tried to peel her from my side. “What’s wrong?” I asked softly. “Don’t you want to open your eyes and see what it looks like in here?” I questioned.

Her little face pulled from my shoulder, and her eyes widened as she looked around the living room. I had a large screen TV on the wall, and a special small recliner next to the large couch, just for Bailey. A shelf on the wall held books, mostly all kid’s stories that I thought she might enjoy. I’d done my best to make every room kid friendly, with a lot of help from Taylor. “Are those my books?” she asked, staring at the shelf. I nodded.

She squirmed from my arms and walked to the coffee table, where Taylor had made a Lego building platform and started a pink house and red car. Bailey smiled as she touched the tiny blocks, and then looked up at me with eyes so bright they lit up the entire room. “Do I have a room here?” she asked.

“Yes, you do,” I said eagerly, extending my hand to hers. Her tiny grip tightened around my fingers as I guided her down the hallway to her room. She let go of my fingers as we stood in the doorway, her eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree as she scanned the brightly colored room and all its contents.

“I love it,” she squealed, running to her bed. She pulled herself onto the mattress and ran her little hand over the stitched blue whale on her quilt. “Mr. Whale,” she gasped. My heart raced from her excitement. I’d never known the whale to have a name, but was pleased she found him familiar. The little old lady I found online created it for me in less than a week with the picture I’d sent her on Bailey’s purple beach bag.

“You’ve got lots of toys, but if there’s anything you need, just let me know, and we’ll get it,” I smiled.

Taylor slipped in beside me, her hand entangled around mine as she let out a soft sigh. “I knew she’d love it,” she whispered.

I stepped into the room, showing her everything in her toy box, pulling stuff out one by one. I pulled open her closet door, showing her all the adorable outfits Taylor helped me pick out hanging in a perfect row of bright colors and soft fabrics. “And if you get scared, there’s a soft cushion in here with a flashlight next to it where you can hide,” I informed her, pointing to the pad I’d made on the floor inside the closet.

When I was little, and my dad was on one of his tangents, that was where I hid. I knew that Bailey’s life was going to be much different than mine, but I still wanted to ensure she had somewhere she could feel safe if ever scared. “I’m not afraid of anything,” she chuckled, narrowing her eyes at me with that familiar crooked smile of mine plastered on her face.

Taylor giggled, causing Bailey to laugh even harder, and eventually, we were all three standing in the pink room laughing, for what, I wasn’t sure, but it felt amazing.

“Okay, we need to pick you out something to wear,” I instructed, thumbing through the clothes.

“Why?” she asked, still breathless from her laughter.

“We’re going to dinner at the neighbors’ house,” I explained.

“Who’s the neighbors?” she asked.

“Clinton, he’s a super nice man, and his wife, Leah,” I smiled, pulling out a pretty blue dress from the hanger. “How about this?” I asked, holding the dress towards Bailey.

She wrinkled her nose as she shook her head. I watched her work to get down from the bed, and then rush to my side. “Lift me,” she insisted, pointing to the clothes on the rack.

I obliged, lifting her to my hip and allowing her the freedom to push through the clothes. “This,” she declared, pulling a pink princess dress from its hanger. It was meant to be more of a dress-up outfit than one you wear in public, but I wasn’t going to argue. Who am I to argue with this strong-willed three-year-old?

“Okay,” I agreed. “Then you’ll need princess shoes,” I chuckled, pulling the play shoes made of plastic, but resembling glass slippers from the top shelf of the closet. Her eyes lit up again as she grabbed them from my hand. She held them close to her chest, rocking them back and forth like a newborn baby as I set her down.

“Do you need help?” I asked, not sure what level of independence my daughter had at three.

“Nope,” she insisted with a wide grin on her face.

“Okay, well, Taylor and I are going to get dressed for dinner. If you need anything, just yell for one of us,” I told her and turned to leave her to get ready.

Taylor fell onto my mattress as we entered my room. Her smile was wide and her eyes bright as she stared at me walking towards the closet. “You are an amazing father,” she blurted.

I chuckled. “I’d hardly say that. I don’t even know what to do,” I admitted.

“You’re doing just fine,” she insisted, raising up to prop her body with her elbows behind her.

I felt like I was doing a good job, but it always made me feel better to hear Taylor assure me.

I knocked on Clinton’s door with Bailey adorned in her pink princess dress and glass slippers at my left side, and Taylor in a beautiful blue sundress at my right. Clinton opened the door, his expression immediately filling with excitement as he invited us inside. “I didn’t know we were having royalty for dinner,” he gasped, leaning down to speak directly to Bailey. She giggled and then held her dress prettily between her pinched finger and thumb as she bowed before him.

Leah reacted the same way Clinton had when she noticed Bailey’s flowing pink gown. Once they both had properly greeted the princess, they turned their attention to Taylor. “So glad to meet you,” Clinton said warmly, shaking Taylor’s hand with a firm grip. Leah pulled her in for a tight hug, just as she’d done me when we first met.

Dinner conversation bounced from work on the house to Taylor’s work to Bailey’s world, filled with princesses, Mr. Whale, and a new daddy to get to know. They were warm people, Clinton and his wife, and I was glad we’d come to dinner. I enjoyed having them be a part of my world, one so new it still scared me to be in it at times.

After dinner, Clinton ushered me to his office to enjoy a Cuban cigar, sent to him by his father-in-law who still lived in the country. I sat in the high-back chair, the same one I’d been so uncomfortable in before, and felt strangely at ease.

“I want to thank you,” I smiled at the older man across from me, the one who’d taken the time to share my father’s last words with me. His eyebrows lifted high on his forehead, and he cocked his head to the left as if he didn’t have a clue what I was thanking him for.

“If it wasn’t for you dragging me in here, making me listen to that tape, and telling me your own story, I don’t know if I would’ve stayed,” I admitted.

Clinton shook his head and laughed. “Elijah, your past doesn’t have anything to do with your future. You wouldn’t’ve walked away from that little girl because that’s not who you are; it has nothing to do with who you were,” he smiled.

His words were always slightly confusing, but comforting and strangely helpful. “Thank you, for everything, Clinton,” I reiterated.

“And besides, even if it wasn’t for that little princess in there, I highly doubt you would’ve left Taylor,” he smirked. “She’s a keeper.”

I leaned back in my chair, puffed on the expensive cigar, and smiled at Clinton. He was right. I don’t think I could’ve left Taylor, even if Bailey wasn’t thrown into the mix.