Chapter Nine
Something had changed. There had been a shift sometime during that day, the day that had been the most amazing of my life. It had been a glimpse of what life would have been like had I not thrown it all away, if we had been a family.
Of course, I’d sensed Elizabeth’s discomfort, how she’d guarded herself in an attempt to protect herself from me. But as the day had progressed, I’d felt her soften—thaw.
Relaxing in the damp comfort of the San Diego evening, watching the beauty exploding in the night sky, surrounded by the three people I loved most, had been surreal, a fantasy I’d had a million times come true. The warmth of Elizabeth’s body beside me had been hypnotizing, and I could focus on nothing other than the perfect weight of my daughter in my arms and the heat radiating from Elizabeth’s skin.
It was then that I’d felt the shift as the tension seemed to drain from her, a calm taking its place. I’d chanced a quick glance in her direction. My breath had caught in my throat. My love for her felt as if it would burst through my chest.
I don’t think I could ever forget the expression on her face.
She was so beautiful, and seeing her like that, so peaceful as if she had been freed of a suffocating weight, had brought me such relief.
That relief became overwhelming when she’d welcomed me into her home. Every part of me had wanted to wrap her in my arms, to thank her endlessly for the gift she had given me, trusting me enough to allow me into another part of Lizzie’s world—her world. It meant everything to me.
Obviously, something had transpired between Elizabeth and my mother, even though Mom refused to share it. She insisted anything Elizabeth may have confided in her was between the two of them, and with a gentle hand on my arm, she’d encouraged me, once again, to be patient.
And I would. I’d wait forever for Elizabeth.
Bit by bit she opened up. Last night when I’d picked Lizzie up for our Friday night visit, Elizabeth hadn’t vocalized the invitation, but stood aside when she opened the door in silent permission that I’d accepted.
As much as I wanted to, though, I didn’t push it. At the end of the night, Lizzie and I said our goodbyes at the door.
I had no idea what to ask of Elizabeth or how far her forgiveness would go. But for now I rested satisfied in knowing I was doing something right on the way to gaining back her trust.
Every second she gave was precious.
I just wished the minutes away weren’t so lonely.
Hugging the small, square pillow to my chest, I sank deeper into the black leather of my couch. Restlessness nipped at my nerves as I flipped through channel after channel on the flat screen against the wall, the isolation reminding me again that I was living the wrong life. It was Saturday night. I should be with my family.
Sighing, I pointed the remote at the television and clicked it off, deciding to give up on the failed attempt to entertain myself. I tossed the pillow aside, stood, and stretched my arms overhead, yawning as I made my way to my bedroom. I shrugged out of my shirt, figuring a hot shower was my best shot at a soothing distraction.
From the other room my phone rumbled against the glass coffee table, buzzing before giving way to its shrill ring. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand.
Eight twenty-three.
I rushed back out to the main room, expecting it to be Mom calling to wish me a goodnight, although part of me hoped that it was Lizzie thinking of me. I pictured her sweet face pressed to her mother’s phone as she called just to say she loved me one more time before her mother tucked her into bed.
I grinned when I saw the caller ID.
Elizabeth’s name and number flashed on the screen as the phone vibrated and rang out again.
I grabbed it, sliding my finger across the faceplate just before it went to voicemail.
“Hey, sweetheart.” I could feel the force of my smile, thankful for the welcomed surprise.
“Christian . . .” I felt sick when I heard her voice, panicked and afraid.
“Elizabeth?” Immediately the panic in my voice matched hers. “What’s wrong?”
When she spoke, her voice trembled, and I could tell she was crying. “Lizzie fell down the stairs.”
Fear clawed up my spine, and I fought against the nausea rushing up my throat with the sick image that flashed through my mind. I was back in my room and dragging my shirt over my head before I had time to respond. “Is she okay?” I tried to remain calm and clearheaded, but I knew I was about five seconds from a breakdown. The thought of something happening to Lizzie—I’d never survive.
Elizabeth spoke in quiet distress, whispering, “I think she broke her arm and she has a cut above her eye . . . it won’t stop bleeding.” She stumbled over the last, choking on her worry, although her news instantly eased my racing nerves.
Lizzie’s injuries definitely didn’t sound as serious I’d first imagined them to be. I shoved my feet in my shoes and grabbed my keys from my desk.
I had started for the door when Elizabeth began fumbling over earnest words. “I tried to call Matthew, but he didn’t answer . . . and Lizzie won’t stop crying . . . and she keeps asking for you.” Her voice dropped as her unease increased. “Can you come? I don’t want to take her to the hospital by myself.” A brief moment of silence fell between us at her request. Her discomfort in asking for my help was clear, but the need of our daughter was so much greater than that.
My condo door slammed closed behind me as I hit the hall and rushed for the elevator.
“I’m already on my way.”
Traffic was heavier than I’d hoped, but I still made the short trip to Elizabeth’s house faster than I ever had. The neighborhood was already quiet when I turned onto their street. Children no longer played on the grassy lawns of their front yards or on the sidewalks. Instead windows glowed as families had taken their activities inside.
I jumped from my car, not bothering to pause to knock when I reached the door. I threw it open to find Lizzie on Elizabeth’s lap where they were huddled on the couch. Lizzie clutched her left arm protectively to her chest and whimpered while Elizabeth held a damp towel to her head.
“Lizzie,” I said as both worry and relief rushed out of me from where I stood in the doorway, still clutching the door handle. My heart ached to see her this way but was thankful it had not been so much worse.
“Daddy.” She sniffled but still managed to welcome me with a small smile.
I crossed the room, dropped to my knees in front of her, and brushed back the matted hair stuck to her face. “Oh, sweetheart, are you okay?” My gaze swept over her, ultimately landing on the towel slowly saturating with blood that Elizabeth had pressed to Lizzie’s forehead.
“My arm hurts.” She grimaced and hugged her arm closer, her bright eyes wet with tears. The sharp stabbing in my chest made me wonder if it were physically possible to feel someone else’s pain.
“I know, baby girl, I know.” I smiled sadly and then shifted so I could pick her up. “Come on, let’s get you fixed up.”
Lizzie’s eyes grew wide and she pulled away. For a moment, my heart fell with rejection before she shook her head stubbornly. “No, Daddy, I don’t like doctors.”
Oh.
I glanced at Elizabeth, her eyes pleading. Say something.
I scooted closer. I tried to ignore the fact that as I did so, I hovered over Elizabeth, her knees brushing against my chest with every unsteady breath I took.
Instead, I focused on what was important—reassuring my daughter.
“Did you know I used to be scared of the doctor when I was a little boy?” I asked, keeping my tone light in an effort to comfort Lizzie.
She looked surprised. “You were?”
“Yep,” I answered, nodding. “And do you know what I learned?”
She shook her head.
“That doctors want to help us feel better,” I said, hoping I sounded convincing enough.
“But doctors give shots,” Lizzie said, pressing her lips together in defiance.
I suppressed a chuckle. Even in her distress, she was still the cutest thing I’d ever seen. I felt Elizabeth’s smile, and imagined she was thinking the same thing.
Reaching out, I cupped Lizzie’s face, running my thumb over her cheek. “Sometimes they do, but it’s only to help you feel better.”
Lizzie’s bottom lip trembled. “But I hate shots, Daddy.”
My expression softened in sympathy. This was the first time I’d really seen my daughter frightened, and while I wanted to take away all her fear, to be her hero and to promise her I’d never let anyone or anything hurt her, I couldn’t do that. I had to be honest with her.
“I know, Lizzie.” I leaned in further. “But if you have to get a shot, Mommy and I will be right there with you the whole time, okay?”
“Promise?” Lizzie whispered, still fearful, though I could feel her resistance fading.
“Promise.” That was a promise I could make.
“Okay, Daddy.”
Carefully, I took Lizzie into my arms and murmured how proud I was of her. Elizabeth looked up at me as she handed Lizzie over and mouthed, “Thank you.” Her lips moved slowly, cautiously. I knew it was hard for her to put this much trust in me, to place our injured daughter in my waiting arms. I nodded once as I met her eyes, wordlessly promising to never give her reason to regret it.
I carried Lizzie to the car where I strapped her into her booster seat, mindful of her injured arm. Elizabeth climbed into the backseat beside her, rattling off directions to the nearest ER. Within minutes, we walked through the doors and had Lizzie signed in.
We tucked ourselves in the farthest corner of the waiting room. I cradled Lizzie on my lap and Elizabeth sat down in the chair next to me, closer to me than she was probably comfortable with. Warily, we eyed the room overflowing with people sporting about every illness and injury we could imagine.
I blew out a loud sigh through my mouth.
Obviously, it was going to be a very long night.
By ten, probably thanks to the dose of medicine Elizabeth had given her before I arrived to their house, Lizzie’s pain had waned enough that she’d fallen asleep curled up on my lap as I rubbed continuous circles along her back. Elizabeth had said little, only quiet murmurings when she checked on her daughter, sweet words of reassurance and comfort.
Lizzie couldn’t have had a better mother.
For the hundredth time that night, I looked to the beautiful woman beside me. She appeared exhausted, dark bags beginning to appear below her honey-colored eyes, her blond waves in disarray from the number of times she’d wrenched her fingers through them. This time she must have felt me, and she lifted her eyes to meet mine as she smiled somewhat apologetically.
“Thanks for being here, Christian,” she said as if she thought my being here was putting me out.
I inclined my head, turning so that I nearly spoke against her ear. “Would you be anywhere else right now, Elizabeth?”
She glanced at our sleeping child and then back at me, her brow furrowed. “Of course not.”
I looked at her intensely. “Neither would I.” She blinked several times before she pursed her lips and nodded. My mouth fell into a small, sad smile, knowing part of her still didn’t believe it. But that was okay because I knew another part of her did.
It was just another thing that only time would prove.
We sank back into silence. The passage of time dragged by as patients were called back and others arrived to take their place. Elizabeth yawned, her eyes drooping. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath as she scrubbed her palm over her face.
“Here.” I shifted, laying Lizzie in her arms. Her eyes shot to my face, wild and pleading. Don’t leave me.
She fell back into distrust so easily. It stung. “I’ll be right back.”
Less than five minutes later, I returned with two Styrofoam cups of steaming coffee. I had prepared Elizabeth’s the way I remembered she liked it, one cream and two sugars.
She moaned in pleasure when I handed her the cup. “Christian.” She breathed in the aroma, and her eyes closed as she brought it to her lips. “You’re a life saver.”
Then she flashed me the first real smile she’d given me since I had come back into her life.
~
For what had to be the twentieth time in the last ten minutes, Elizabeth looked over her shoulder, checking to make sure Lizzie was comfortable. Lizzie had fallen back asleep almost the moment I’d put her in the car.
Elizabeth sighed as she faced forward, slumping deeper into the front passenger seat. Her elbow rested against the door with her head in her palm. “I always overreact when it comes to her,” she uttered, mostly to herself.
Glancing to my right, I smiled softly at the woman who owned my heart, who I now had come to know as one who questioned herself as a mother, worried that she was making mistakes, that she was too cautious or not cautious enough. Apparently, parenthood did that to you. She rolled her head across the headrest and turned to face me, her eyes tired but warm. My smile grew.
“What?” she drawled, returning a lazy grin.
“I was just thinking what a good mother you are.” I pulled into her driveway, cutting the engine and hoping I hadn’t ruined the amicable mood we’d fallen into over the last several hours.
She laughed quietly. “Sometimes I feel like I have no clue what I’m doing.”
Through the rearview mirror, I peered at the child she had raised, the little girl I had a hard time seeing as anything but perfect, and shook my head before turning back to Elizabeth. “You shouldn’t doubt yourself so much.”
The urge to reach out and touch her was almost too much to resist—the way her lips parted in response to my words as she stared across the small space at me, her body fatigued and mind weary. It reminded me so much of the way she used to look just before she fell asleep in my arms.
I quickly removed myself from the car before I did something very stupid.
Carefully, I gathered Lizzie in my arms and followed Elizabeth into the dark house and upstairs to Lizzie’s room where I laid our daughter on her small bed. While Elizabeth dug in the dresser to find Lizzie’s favorite nightgown, I pulled off her shoes and shorts. Guided by the dim light filtering in from the hall, Elizabeth and I worked together to get Lizzie ready for bed by removing her shirt over the sling that protected her elbow and wrist, her tiny fingers now swollen.
“You have no idea how happy I am this isn’t a cast,” Elizabeth whispered as we coaxed the shirt from her head.
I nodded. I couldn’t have agreed more.
Lizzie’s injuries could have been so much worse, but she had escaped with only a sprained wrist and the cut on her head had only required a simple butterfly bandage. Most important to Lizzie was the fact that it meant no shots. She’d been so brave with the doctor and nurses, sitting still as they’d examined her and ran a series of x-rays and cooperating while they placed the bandage above her eye and rested her arm in a sling.
I was so proud of her.
Lizzie barely stirred as I held her up and Elizabeth dressed her, pulling the pink satin nightgown easily over her head. She took more time to carefully maneuver Lizzie’s arm through the sleeve.
Elizabeth held the comforter back while I laid our daughter on the sheets, and for the first time in Lizzie’s life, both of her parents tucked her into bed.
Even under the terrible circumstances, it felt amazing.
Pressing my lips to my daughter’s head, I whispered against it, “I love you, Lizzie.”
She groaned an unintelligible response that went straight to my heart.
Standing, I yawned and stretched. The small digital clock on Lizzie’s nightstand glowed two-nineteen.
It was really late, but still I wasn’t ready to go.
From the bedroom door, I watched as Elizabeth kissed our daughter and ran a tender hand through Lizzie’s dark hair before she reluctantly stood and crossed the room.
I stepped out into the hallway and Elizabeth followed behind me, leaving the door ajar behind her.
We both breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief, the ordeal officially over.
Standing in the subdued light of Elizabeth’s hallway, the two of us were frozen, unwilling to move. There were so many things I wanted to say—needed to say, the silence between us expectant. It stretched on and inevitably became uncomfortable.
“You’d better get some rest,” I finally said, wishing I didn’t have to say goodbye.
She fidgeted. “It’s really late, Christian.” She wrung her hands. “Why don’t you stay? I don’t have a guest room, but the couch is really comfortable . . . if you want.” The nervous edge to her words dissipated as she extended her hand, reaching out but not touching. “Lizzie will want to see you in the morning.”
She seemed to think she needed to convince me. Didn’t she understand I never wanted to leave? But as much as I wanted to stay, I understood this was a huge offering for Elizabeth to make.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Yeah . . . stay.” Maybe she would never admit it, maybe she didn’t even realize it herself, but as I peered down at her, I knew she wanted me to stay. The armor she wore in protection of herself wasn’t enough to conceal the hope in her eyes.
I swallowed, searching for my voice. “Elizabeth—”
She held up a hand to stop me. “Please, Christian . . . don’t.”
On instinct, I stepped back and closed my eyes to keep myself from saying things she wasn’t ready to hear. Soon we would have to talk and lay it all out. But I heard her plea, and tonight I wouldn’t push her any farther than she was ready to go.
“Okay.”
The tension between us dissolved, and she moved into action. “Hang on a second.” She turned and disappeared into her room at the end of the small hall before she returned less than two minutes later with a new toothbrush and a pair of pajama bottoms.
“Here.” She handed the small pile to me. “Matthew left these here a long time ago.”
I looked down at the things in my hand and then back at Elizabeth, incredulous. Did she really expect me to wear these? Matthew wasn’t exactly my biggest fan.
She laughed and shook her head. “It’s fine, Christian. Just wear them.” She grinned and pointed toward the stairs. “There’s a bathroom off the family room.”
I chuckled at the confounding woman in front of me who amazed me at every turn. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Elizabeth had always been the most caring, compassionate person I’d ever known, and she still was. I just had to peel the layers back a little bit to see it.
How sad they were there because of me.
“Goodnight, Elizabeth.” A gracious smile spread across my face.
“Goodnight, Christian.” A moment was spent staring at each other, swimming in nostalgia and what could have been, before I turned and left her standing at the top of the stairs.
In the small bathroom, I shed my clothes and put on the blue flannel pajama bottoms, feeling a twinge of guilt as I did so.
I was tired, but there was an energy stirring in me, leaving me unsure of how much sleep I would actually get tonight. So many times I’d imagined this, what it would be like to stay here, though the circumstances now were so different than what had taken place in my dreams. I’d be sleeping on the couch—not with Elizabeth.
Running dampened hands through my hair, I exhaled and hoped I’d at least catch a couple hours of sleep. Opening the door and flipping off the light switch, I stepped into the dimly-lit family room and came face-to-face with Elizabeth.
I stopped mid-stride, surprised to find her waiting for me on the other side of the bathroom door. Her eyes grew wide when they hit my bare chest before her face flushed red and she averted her gaze to the floor.
“Sorry . . . I . . . um . . . thought you might like to see these.”
She extended her arms, snapping me from my shock as she brought attention to what she held in her hands.
There were three albums, the kind that were perfectly square and filled with hours upon hours of a mother’s artwork.
Elizabeth held them out farther, encouraging me to take them. I shook as I reached a tentative hand out to accept them, my mouth dry and unable to express my gratitude for her gift. As we both held the albums between us, she looked up at me with what could only be described as sympathy, a tenderness that broke my heart and healed it at the same time. She nodded as she withdrew her hands and then turned and rushed upstairs.
Acute anxiety and severe longing filled my chest as I thought of facing what was inside, the albums an oppressive weight. I slowly moved to the couch and placed five years of memories on my lap, memories I wasn’t sure I was ready to face. I ran my fingertips over the brown cover and struggled to find the courage to open it. It took five full minutes before I did. The muted glow from the lamp on the end table shed enough light to illuminate what the first page held—a birth announcement.
Elizabeth Grace Ayers
Born May 23rd at 4:37 am.
18.5” long
5 pounds 3 ounces
Breathtaking—heartbreaking.
Tears fell and there was nothing I could have done to stop them.
In my hands was the image of an infant child, her face red and new, her tiny mouth pursed. Even then, her gray-blue eyes were wide and expressive. A mass of shiny, black hair sat atop her head, my cleft marking her chin.
My daughter.
My fingers traced the picture.
So small.
I flashed back to the day I’d seen Elizabeth before she’d given birth—how thin, even sickly she’d appeared. Now to know Lizzie had been so small, it sent reality crashing down on me. My stomach twisted, my head spun, and sweat broke out across my forehead. Elizabeth hadn’t just looked sick, she was sick. I’d left her when she was sick.
I was a monster.
I choked on the lump in my throat and forced myself to turn the page—snapshots of a swaddled baby asleep in the hospital nursery, rocking in Matthew’s arms, pressed to her mother’s breast. The last was by far the most beautiful, the way Elizabeth held her daughter as if she’d found the world because she knew she had.
And I had missed it.
Each page showcased my daughter’s life, every milestone I had missed—first food, first step, first word, first birthday. Lizzie grinned at the camera with a pointy cap on her head, two teeth on top and two on the bottom, and a round cake with one candle sitting in front of her—surrounded by those who loved her.
I wasn’t there.
Images of a chubby-cheeked little girl, running, playing, always smiling filled the next pages. More birthdays, more Christmases, Easters, every celebration—five years of life.
And I wasn’t there because I had abandoned my family.
But when I turned to last page of the last album, I was. Lizzie sat on my lap with her arms around my neck, showering me in undeserved love as she thanked me for a birthday gift I’d had no idea if she’d even like.
Worse than seeing what I had missed was knowing what had to have been left out of those pages, what wasn’t put on display. Every sleepless night, every worry, every fear. Failures and missed goals. Heartache, every tear shed.
Swept away in grief, I tried to bury my regret in the pillow Elizabeth had left for me on the couch. It only smelled of her. I pressed my face deeper, trying to drown out years of sorrow and loss, to conceal the devastation tearing me apart. It felt like death, five years slain by selfishness and stupidity.
Who of us had paid the biggest price? The beautiful child who shone like heaven on every page, her smile joy—her face peace? Her mother, the one betrayed, the one who had worked so hard, loved so much that she had raised a child such as this? In the end, I knew it had to be me. I was the one who had lost, the one who had lived without, the one who was a fool to have ever imagined anything could have been better than this.
Without a doubt, I didn’t deserve to be here, to wrap myself up in the comfort of the blanket Elizabeth provided, to rest my head on the pillow that could only have come from her bed, to accept her kindness as she allowed me into her home.
Most of all, I didn’t deserve the love of Lizzie.
The night I’d fallen apart after Elizabeth had first allowed me to see Lizzie, I’d thought I’d understood, but I’d had no idea. The truth was, I never would. I wasn’t there and I would never really know. And there was nothing I could do to earn that time back. Even if Elizabeth forgave me, I didn’t think I could ever forgive myself.
As much sorrow as these stilled memories brought me, I couldn’t help but cherish the veiled experience, thankful to have a glimpse into life while I wasn’t really living at all. I lamented those years and hugged Elizabeth’s pillow close as I took comfort in her scent, took comfort in her presence as I praised her for sharing the life I’d chosen not to be a part of—praised her for being brave enough to allow me to be a part of it now.
That presence grew stronger, palpable. I jerked up when I realized I wasn’t alone, my eyes drawn to her. Elizabeth stood clinging to the railing at the top of the stairs, watching down over me, tears staining her face. Neither of us said anything aloud, though my heart spoke a thousand regrets, every one of them a plea for forgiveness I could never deserve.
In her eyes, I saw what I desired most.
Elizabeth cared for me—hurt for me—loved me.
I stared back and poured everything I had into that moment, praying for once she wouldn’t question that I did too.
She closed her eyes and took two steps back, uncertainty and fear flowing from the corners, exposing a wounded heart that had forgotten how to trust but hadn’t forgotten how to love.
~
I shifted deeper into the warmth, refusing to let go of the comfort of Elizabeth’s lingering presence as I buried my face in her pillow and pulled the blanket tighter around my body. An unfamiliar nudging stirred me, dragging me from what I was sure were the two best hours of sleep I’d ever had.
“Wake up, Daddy.” A tiny giggle sounded close to my ear.
I rolled from my stomach to my side and then opened my eyes to paradise.
Lizzie leaned over me, grinning.
I blinked the sleep away, smiling as I focused in on the precious child in front of me. She still wore her nightgown but none of the pain from the night before.
“Hi, baby girl,” I rasped out, my throat raw from lack of sleep and hours of uncontained remorse. “Come here.” I lifted the blanket, inviting her to crawl in beside me. After last night, I needed to hold my daughter. She felt perfect as she settled next to me and rested her head on the pillow. I placed a kiss on her forehead before ghosting fingertips over the now bruised skin over her eye.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?”
“I’m almost all better. My arm only hurts a little bit.” Her fingers grazed over my chest as she flexed and extended her fingers in a show of recovery.
My chest swelled with emotion, her nearness eliciting a haunting sadness from the night before and an overwhelming appreciation for the grace I’d been given that allowed me to hold her this way today.
Her eyes burned, her child-like innocence overshadowed by a sudden deep awareness. “Daddy, what’s wrong?” The same swollen fingers reached out to caress my cheek in undeserved affection I would never take for granted.
“Nothing’s wrong, princess. Everything is perfect.”
And just like that, the child was back. Her eyes were alight as she wiggled out of my grasp and onto her feet. “Come on, Daddy. Breakfast is almost ready,” she said, attempting to drag me from the couch with her good arm
Her statement set my senses in motion. The smell coming from the kitchen aroused memories from long ago—bacon, eggs, and biscuits. My mouth watered and my stomach growled. Nobody made breakfast like Elizabeth.
Lizzie tugged on my hand again, clearly as excited over her mother’s breakfast as I was. With no resistance, I allowed Lizzie to lead me into the kitchen only to have my footsteps falter at the sight in front of me.
Elizabeth stood at the stove with her back to us, wearing black pajama bottoms and a matching tank top. Her blonde hair was pinned up in a messy bun at the base of her neck. Errant pieces had fallen out and toppled down her back. She was barefoot, glowing, and gorgeous.
I struggled to breathe through the intense longing that coursed through my body.
She threw a quick glance over her shoulder, flashing another genuine smile. “Good morning.”
She turned back to her work, leaving me to whisper a barely audible good morning in return when really I wanted to sing.
Elizabeth spooned what looked to be more than a dozen scrambled eggs into a bowl from a frying pan. “You’d better be hungry. I made enough food to feed an army.” Her tone was light, maybe even cheerful, as if the intensity from last night had long since been forgotten.
It struck me how natural it would seem to walk up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist, to lean over her shoulder and place a good morning kiss on her cheek, to tell her I loved her.
Instead, I said, “Starving.”
“Good.” She opened the oven door and leaned over to pull out a pan of homemade biscuits.
I had to look away, and my roving eyes drifted to the small table in the kitchen nook. It was set for five. Suddenly, I became very uncomfortable.
“Uh, Elizabeth?”
“Yeah?” She stopped placing biscuits in a basket to look in my direction.
I gestured toward the table with my head. “Are you expecting company?”
Understanding dawned on her face. “Yeah, Matthew and Natalie come for breakfast every Sunday morning.”
I roughed a hand through my hair. No further confrontations had taken place between Matthew and me since Lizzie’s birthday, but I wouldn’t say we were exactly friendly, either. I’d only seen him a handful of times in passing as I’d been picking up Lizzie or dropping her off, but each time he’d watched me with both suspicion and disdain.
Elizabeth looked at me as if she knew exactly what I was thinking. She pointed toward the bathroom. “You’d better hurry up and get changed. They’ll be here any minute.”
I knew then that I’d better get over it if I was going to be a part of Lizzie’s life.
I was only in the small bathroom long enough to change into the clothes I’d worn the day before, brush my teeth, and to run wet hands through my hair in an attempt to tame the disaster on my head, but when I stepped out, Matthew and Natalie were already there.
From the archway, I watched the profuse apology Matthew gave Elizabeth while he held Lizzie in his arms, almost breathless in his explanation. “Elizabeth, I’m so sorry. Nat and I were at the movies last night and I’d turned off my phone. I didn’t get the message until just before we got over here.”
Elizabeth tried to stop him. “Matthew . . . honestly . . . It was fine. Don’t worry about it.”
Elizabeth’s reassurance did nothing to ease his remorse. He hugged Lizzie to him. “I’m so sorry, Lizzie.” He seemed on the verge of tears.
“It’s okay, Uncle Maffew,” Lizzie promised as she nuzzled against his neck before sitting back and looking between Elizabeth and me. “My Mommy and Daddy took care of me.”
For the briefest moment, Matthew’s attention shifted from Lizzie to me. His expression was wary, but for the first time it lacked the contempt it normally held. He opened his mouth as if to say something but turned away as Elizabeth made the call to breakfast.
I couldn’t help but feel out of place as the four of them settled into their usual spots without a thought. Matthew and Lizzie dove right into conversation as he asked for a play-by-play of the night before while he dug into the food spread out on the table in front of him. My feet were glued to the floor as I watched them with benevolent envy, without spite or resentment, but covetous of the bond they had formed.
Elizabeth looked up from her seat, smothering me in the warmth in her gaze. She inclined her head, beckoning me to take the spot beside her.
As much as I felt like an outsider, my need to be a part of this family outweighed the discomfort I experienced as I walked across the room and pulled out the chair between Elizabeth and Lizzie.
Three pairs of eyes watched as I settled into my place, Natalie as if she’d always believed I belonged there, Matthew cautious, and Elizabeth with a hint of red on her cheeks. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one feeling self-conscious. But even if it was new and filled with uncertainty, it didn’t make it any less right.
Lizzie was the only one who didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary and continued with the animated description of the previous night, relieving some of the awkwardness.
With a quiet grin on my face, I listened to my daughter prattle on and was unable to contain the pleasure I felt as I filled my plate from the bowls Elizabeth passed my way. If Lizzie had been in distress the night before, I never would have known. Matthew and Natalie hung on her every word as they showered her with sympathy and cheered her for being such a brave girl as she recounted her experience.
By the look of my plate, I knew I appeared to be a glutton. The homemade breakfast was piled high, but I couldn’t resist. How many mornings had I woken up to Elizabeth cooking in that small kitchen of my apartment back in New York? I was salivating by the time I bit into a biscuit dripping with butter and raspberry jam. A moan escaped me before I could stop it.
The voice beside me was so quiet I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it. “They were always your favorite.”
I tilted my head toward her, smiled softly, wished I had the freedom to reach out and touch her face, and whispered, “Thank you for making them.”
I realized we were being watched, but I didn’t care. I’d chosen to stop being a coward the day I’d finally sought Elizabeth out, and if I had to lay my heart out in front of her family to show her I cared for her, that I had never forgotten her, through something as simple has homemade biscuits, I would do it.
“So, Christian . . . ,” Natalie said, cutting in before placing a forkful of eggs in her mouth. She chewed and swallowed before she continued. “What do you think of living in San Diego?” I looked across the table at her, aware she was trying to make me comfortable and welcome me into their circle. She’d always been kind to me, giving me the benefit while everyone else had remained in doubt.
My gaze flickered between the girls on my left and right before returning to rest on her. “I love it here.”
“Me too,” Lizzie added as she shoved half of a piece of bacon into her mouth.
Yes. I absolutely loved it here.
“And work?” Natalie asked.
“Uh . . .” Honestly, I really didn’t know how to answer her. I knew I had a dream job and I wished I could appreciate it more, but in the end, it really only served to remind me of what I’d walked away from to attain it.
Natalie laughed. “Work’s work, right?”
I chuckled at her observation even though it went much deeper than the obvious. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
Elizabeth tensed beside me as we broached what I knew was going to be a very touchy subject for us. Elizabeth had never been in it for the money, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have aspirations. And she was right, what she’d said that afternoon—we could have figured it out.
Lizzie jumped on the topic. “At my Daddy’s work you can see the ocean and at his house too,” she said with wide-eyed exuberance. Months before, I’d taken Lizzie to my office to show her where I worked, and of course, she’d been to my condo a number of times. She’d clearly been impressed by the fact that they looked over the water and had declared that one day she’d live by the ocean, too. It was a wish I’d be all too happy to grant.
Elizabeth joining the conversation caught me off guard. “So, what’s it like working for your dad?” She studied me with a genuine concern-filled gaze. She’d known how turbulent my relationship with my father had been, and he’d been nothing but a self-righteous asshole to her. I was surprised she’d even mention him.
I looked directly at her and expelled a weighty breath before I answered truthfully. “Miserable.” I shoveled some scrambled eggs into my mouth to cover up the disdain I felt for my father. He ruled his company with an iron fist and treated every single one of his employees like garbage, including me. Why he’d asked me to “head” the San Diego office when he thought me incapable of doing anything right was beyond me.
She nodded softly as if she’d expected it. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” For everything.
Her attention dropped to her plate, absorbed with spearing eggs onto her fork.
It was all so disconcerting, the way Elizabeth and I had to tiptoe around each other as if every simple comment came with a threat to sweep us away in the undertow and to drown us in our past.
I turned back to Natalie in hope of a safer topic. “What do you do, Natalie?”
Her brown eyes lit up as she jumped into a detailed account of the last four years of her life—her goals, school, meeting Matthew. While she was young and viewed the world through an almost childlike awe, there was still a depth to her. I liked her and could easily count her as a friend. “So right now, I’m taking classes in the mornings to finish up my bachelor’s and taking care of this sweet little thing in the afternoons.” She poked Lizzie in the belly with her finger, causing Lizzie to squeal.
Matthew watched his wife with tenderness, his face glowing as she spoke. I glanced at Elizabeth, then back at him, searching for any sort of unease with the interaction while wondering how their lives seemed so simple when the situation was anything but. Elizabeth merely watched them both with fondness. Maybe when I had seen Matthew at Elizabeth’s side that night I’d been too blinded by my own self-pity to see clearly, but I could plainly see it now. He’d stood beside Elizabeth devoted as a protector, her guardian, but his touch had lacked what poured from him when he looked at his wife.
He’d never loved Elizabeth—not the way I did, not the way he loved Natalie.
I was such fool, every realization an amplification of the mistakes I’d made.
For the remainder of breakfast, I listened and learned. Matthew directed nothing toward me other than an occasional penetrating stare as if he would give anything to know my thoughts.
Elizabeth’s little family carried on the way I imagined they always did, relaxed, enjoying each other, and chatting about what had happened throughout their week.
Elizabeth laughed.
And the world was right.
“Can I help with anything?” I stood in the doorway of Elizabeth’s kitchen as she loaded the dishwasher with the aftermath of Sunday morning. I’d just come downstairs from Lizzie’s room where I’d spent the last hour playing with her on the floor—everything from dolls, to cars, to a game that required me to wear plastic earrings and a princess tiara.
I won.
Elizabeth smiled over her shoulder. “Nope, just finishing up.” She closed the dishwasher and twisted the dial to start.
“This was great, Elizabeth. Thank you.”
She shook her head indicating it wasn’t a problem. “I’m glad you were here.”
“I’m glad I was, too.” More than she could ever know.
Seeing Lizzie three days in a row had been wonderful, and even though I was aware this request would count as pushing again, I couldn’t imagine not seeing her for an entire week. “So, I was thinking . . . maybe I could pick Lizzie up on Tuesday from school to take her to lunch?” I felt nervous, shifting my feet, worried of her reaction. So I rambled. “I’d only keep her for a couple of hours and I could bring her back to Natalie. You wouldn’t even know she was gone.”
She didn’t hesitate. “I don’t see why not. Just let me check with Nat.”
Natalie agreed, which didn’t surprise me. She seemed thrilled with the idea. The arrangement would be for me to pick Lizzie up from school and then drop her back at Natalie and Matthew’s house afterward. I typed the address Natalie had given me into my phone while she and Matthew hugged and kissed Elizabeth and Lizzie goodbye, their affection great as they promised they’d see each other tomorrow.
Natalie hugged me. At first it caught me off guard, but I was quick to reciprocate with a murmured, “Thank you,” low against her ear. She nodded and squeezed me harder in return, a clear understanding taking place between us.
The greater shock was when Matthew stepped forward and extended his hand. I accepted it, though my grip was weak and unsure. He shook it, firm and without reproach. “Thanks for being there last night.”
I nodded even though I didn’t want his thanks. No father should need to be thanked for participating in what was his responsibility, but I had to accept that my past choices resulted in the judgment of my actions now.
“All right, we’re outta here.” Natalie tugged on Matthew’s arm, taking his hand. With a final goodbye, they filed out the front door, their departure signaling that my time here today had ended as well.
“I guess I’d better head out, too.” My tone was less than enthusiastic.
I knelt in front of my daughter and gathered her in my arms. There was nothing worse than telling her goodbye. “I love you, baby girl. Daddy’s going to pick you up from school on Tuesday.” I smoothed her hair and drank in her eyes. “Would you like that?”
“Yes!” She squeezed her arms around my neck. “You’re the best daddy in the world!”
Her perception of me was so skewed, so far removed from the truth, but there would be no good purpose in correcting her now. I needed to talk to her about it, I knew, just as much as I needed to talk to her mother, but not as I was walking out the door. So I drew her closer, held her tight.
“Goodbye, princess.” In disinclination, I let her go and stood to leave.
“Bye, Daddy.”
Elizabeth regarded us from where she stood, leaning against the wall under the stairs, a new sadness on her face. It was a sadness I knew all too well. I wore it all the time.
“Goodbye, Elizabeth. Thanks for everything.”
“Goodbye, Christian.”
I opened the door and stepped out into the warmth of the summer sun.
Elizabeth followed me to the doorway to see me out.
“Elizabeth?” I turned to her, pausing on her stoop. This wasn’t an afterthought. It’d been on my mind, weighing on me since last night. “Why didn’t you come back to class?”
She stilled as the meaning of my question dawned on her face. Her voice was quiet and cracked when she answered. “I was sick.”
Closing my eyes, I nodded as I rode out the suffocating wave of guilt, and in my shame, I turned and left Elizabeth with no further words.
~
The preschool was a large, white building with colorful letters splashed across the front and shrubs growing against its walls. A wrought iron fence painted bright blue encompassed the grounds, and playground equipment filled the yard that was protected from the heat by a matching blue sunshade.
At exactly noon, I walked through the door and into the office, feeling a bit out of sorts and nervous. The room was mostly quiet, only the distorted sound of children playing seeping through the thin walls. The young woman behind the counter asked if she could help me.
“Yes, I’m here to pick up Lizzie Ayers.”
Her face lit in recognition. “Oh, yes, we were told to expect you.” She thumbed through a stack of files on her desk and produced a folder with Lizzie’s name on the tab. She pulled a sheet from it, passed it across to me, and set a pen on top of it. “I just need you to fill this out and I need your driver’s license for verification.”
Most of the form had been filled out by Elizabeth, her distinct handwriting adding me to the list of people authorized to pick Lizzie up from school. There was only a small section where I needed to add my personal information.
My heart palpitated as I realized the huge leap of faith Elizabeth had taken in me.
I now had control of signing my daughter in and out of school.
With a shaky hand, I added the information and passed the form back to the receptionist along with my license.
She looked it over, put up a finger, and said, “Just a minute.”
She made a photocopy, added it to the file, and showed me where to sign out my daughter. Then she led me down the hall to Lizzie’s classroom.
“Daddy!” Lizzie spotted me the second we walked through the door and ran across the room with outstretched arms.
“Hi, sweetheart.” I picked her up and kissed her on the forehead, rocking her as I held her to my chest. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, Daddy.”
“Come on, let’s get your things.”
Lizzie showed me her cubby stuffed with her day’s work, proud as she presented me with a picture she’d painted. Although the picture had been drawn with the crudeness of the hand of a five year old, the two adults and one child standing hand-in-hand, one with yellow and two with black hair, made it clear who she’d drawn.
“This is beautiful, Lizzie.” So beautiful.
I helped her wriggle her backpack over the sling she still wore on her arm and then took her good hand and led her out.
“Where to, Lizzie?” I looked at her through the rearview mirror where she was buckled in her booster in the backseat of my car.
“I want pizza!”
Then pizza it was.
Soon we were seated at a round table for two at the small pizza parlor I’d looked up on my phone. It was the kind of place where the owner cooked in the back while he yelled orders to his employees up front, a place where a person could order pizza by the slice and sit at tables covered in red and white checked cloths, a place where the intoxicating smell of fresh-baked dough hung in the air.
Lizzie sat on her knees, sipping a clear, bubbly soda through a straw, the two of us conversing about our day. She told me of the fight between two little boys on the playground, her voice disapproving as she described how they had to sit in time out for the whole recess.
I chuckled and then told her about the board meeting I’d had to sit through the entire morning, leaving out all the boring details, instead telling her how I’d spent the entire time gazing out on the sailboats on the water while thinking of only her.
The server arrived with our food and refilled our drinks. The slices of pizza were huge and dripping with grease, and I convinced Lizzie to allow me to cut it into pieces so she could eat it with a fork rather than trying to balance it with her one good hand.
“Thank you, Daddy,” she said with a soft expression of appreciation on her face as I set her plate back in front of her and handed her a fork.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” I smiled as she speared a piece of her cheese pizza and popped it into her mouth. Only then did I turn to wrestle the huge piece in front of me.
We ate in peace for a couple of minutes while I contemplated the best way to bring up a discussion I was certain would be one of the hardest of my life, but one I couldn’t put off any longer.
“Lizzie, honey?”
Grinning, she looked up from her plate and across the table at me.
“Are you happy Daddy’s here . . . now?” Really, I knew what she would say. I just didn’t know a better way to break into the conversation.
She nodded as she took another bite. “Uh-huh.”
“Did your mom ever talk to you about why I wasn’t with you when you were younger?”
She shrugged one shoulder as if it didn’t matter at all. “You didn’t want me.”
I wanted to pass out from the dizzying pain her answer brought me. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I held onto the table in front of me, forcing myself to speak. “Lizzie, I’m so sorry.” Even if it hadn’t always been the case, even if I’d spent the first five years of her life wondering about her, longing for her, there had been a day I’d believed this child would ruin my life.
“It’s okay, Daddy.”
There was nothing okay about what I’d done, but I accepted it as her way of telling me she’d already forgiven me.
I leaned heavily against the table, lowering myself so I could look up at my child’s face. “I need you to know, Lizzie, that as long as I live, I will never leave you again. Do you understand?”
She smiled a simple smile, one of sincerity and trust. “I know that, Daddy.” She grinned and asked if she could have another soda.
~
It was just after three when I pulled into the spot with my name engraved on a silver plaque in the parking garage of my building. I jammed the up button several times, willing the elevator to hurry. I’d been due for another round of board meetings at three o’clock. After spending the hour after lunch at a nearby park, I’d dropped Lizzie off at the small, one-level house Natalie and Matthew shared. With a smile, Natalie had invited me in. She’d enveloped me in an encouraging embrace when I explained I had to get back to the office.
What felt like five minutes passed, which in reality was only about thirty seconds, before the elevator doors slid open. I breathed a sigh of relief when I stepped out onto our floor a minute later, rushing to my office to grab the files I needed for the meeting.
I nearly tripped over my feet when I found my father sitting at my desk, his face twisted in disapproval. “So very nice of you to show up, Christian.”
Recovering from my surprise, I shook my head and crossed the room to find the paperwork. “Nice of you to let me know you were coming into town,” I threw back at him. Standing at the front of my desk facing my father, I rummaged through the files, grabbed what I needed, and shoved them into my briefcase.
“I just thought I’d pop in to see how things were coming along here.” He waved his hand around the room.
“They’re coming just fine.” He was already well aware of this. Sure, we’d had a few snags in the beginning but nothing that wouldn’t have been expected.
“Doesn’t look that way to me.” I stilled my frenzied activity and stared down at the man sitting in my chair, staring back at me, his dark eyes gleaming with contention. “Care to tell me why I’ve been sitting in this very spot for . . . oh . . .” He glanced at the Cartier around his wrist. “The last three hours while you were nowhere to be found?”
I knew my father expected me to live my life the same way as he, tied to the office with concern for nothing but the elevated title he’d given me.
I refused.
“I was with my daughter. Do you have a problem with that?”
He looked as if I’d just smashed a paperweight against the side of his head, reeling with the blow I’d struck him with.
The shock was quick to morph into fury. He jumped up, his palms pressed flat on the desk. “You hooked back up with that money-hungry little whore? Are you really that stupid, Christian?”
The briefcase I held smashed against the wall when I threw it across the room, glass shattering on the impact, frames falling to the floor.
I’d just told the asshole he had a granddaughter, and instead of thinking to ask her name, he thought of money?
I couldn’t stand to look at the pathetic man in front of me—his black hair salt and peppered around his ears, only worn that way because he believed it gave him a look of distinction—couldn’t stand to watch him trembling with rage over what I knew was his embarrassment over my bastard child.
I hated him for it.
With a shaky hand, I pulled my wallet from my back pocket and dug out the small picture of Lizzie I kept there. I slammed it down on the desk in front of him and made a decision I was sure I would never regret. “You can count that as my resignation.”