The gardens were still. Quiet. Peaceful.

The complete opposite of the wild and wondrous ocean we left this morning when I took Piper on this adventure.

Eight days after Dad’s episode, and I knew I had to go back soon, but first, I needed something to calm my mind. I needed something to soothe my soul.

I needed something to entertain Piper.

And that was why I squatted on a bridge, my arms either side of Piper as she clung to a rail, staring wide-eyed at the fishes in the water below.

I’d discovered it in one of my many Google searches—things to do with your less-than-one-year-old child. Apparently, they loved fish and aquariums.

Only, there weren’t any aquariums nearby, so I took her to the next best thing.

“And we throw the fish food into the water.” I took a handful of grey pellets from the paper bag I’d bought at reception and scattered them into the water below. Tens of hungry Koi surged to the surface, colourful, slimy bodies muscling each other out of the way as they vied for their prize.

The ducks seemed to like it too. Two speed-swam from the reeds in the distance, carving a path through the Koi who give way to their beaks and webbed feet.

“And here come the ducks, hungry for some fish food,” I narrated for Piper, since that was what all the websites told you to do. Speak to the baby. It’d help with speech development. Even though Piper seemed light years away from any real words. She could gurgle, but that was about it.

Piper watched, entranced, then looked at me open-mouthed. “Gah,” she said, pointing at the birds, then looking back up at me. “Gah.”

“Duck!” Holy shit. Did she just …? “Duck.” I pointed to the bird.

“Gah.”

She said duck. She flipping said duck! “Duck, yes. That’s right. You’re so clever. Duck.”

“Gah,” she said in this cute-as-shit, matter-of-fact tone, and I swept her up in my arms, pressing her to my chest as I plastered a kiss to her forehead. “Duck, duck, duck, duck.” I laughed, rolling to my back. She squealed with delight, and I held her high above my head. “Duck.”

“Gah!”

“Duck!”

I couldn’t stop laughing. Couldn’t stop smiling. She said duck, damn it, or near close enough, and, hell, yeah. This was awesome. This feeling—it was better than anything I’d ever experienced. Better than that time Mack and I went to Europe, eating foreign delicacies and meeting foreign women.

This was better than—

Bella.

But I didn’t want to chase the thought away with images of my wife. I didn’t want to wallow in misery, throwing myself into sadness just because it was where I felt I belonged. Just because I felt I had some sick penance to pay for surviving, for being in the right place at the right time.

And I didn’t know if it was Piper, or Everly, or perhaps this whole crazy situation that’d helped me get there, but there I was, and damn it, I was okay with that.

“Come on.” I rolled back to sitting and shuffled to my feet. A group of tourists on the other side of the lake stared at me, talking and laughing behind their hands, and I gave a wave as I hoisted Piper higher on my hip. They erupted into a sea of giggles, and their mirth was infectious because I started laughing, too. This day—it was perfect. Everything about it was so perfect.

So perfect that I just wanted to share it with someone.

Someone who cared.

Someone like Everly.

* * *

Of course, I didn’t go to Everly’s place.

I couldn’t. Not when she’d so clearly backed away from me.

And even though I wanted to start another letter to Bella, to tell her about this life-changing moment, something about that didn’t feel right eithers.

Instead, I went to visit Giselle.

Just like last time, I found a park with ease in the lot outside the prison. It seemed as if not too many people spent their Sundays visiting felons, family or no.

The woman at the reception desk slid the form across to me, and I filled it in while Piper clung to my chest, her eyes wide as she took in the thick walls, the lack of light. I wanted to shield her from it. I wanted to take her away from this place and never let her return, but I knew it wasn’t my decision to make. As much as I might hate what she’d done, what she’d put this child through, Giselle was still Piper’s mother.

And if I wanted to stand any chance of keeping Piper around when Giselle got out, I had to respect that.

We were escorted to the visiting room, where four other inmates were meeting with their loved ones. I stood by a table in the corner, waiting for Giselle to enter.

Finally, she did. Her eyes were cool, her expression fierce as she was led into the room, looking around at the visitors, the other inmates, like she was expecting judgment.

Then she saw us.

The look that took over her face when her eyes landed on Piper—it was like a child at Christmas. She flew across the room, knocking a chair in her path. She grabbed her daughter straight from my arms and jerked her close to her chest. Her eyes closed, her head resting against Piper’s, and her shoulders shook as emotion took the stiff-lipped, stoic woman and ripped her in two.

I pulled out a chair, settling down into the hard metal, and watched this moment between the two of them. It was as if finally, I got it. I got now why she was like this. Why she was so over-the-top for this little person. I got it all.

I just didn’t get why she hadn’t told me the truth about Piper before she needed me to act as a full-time carer. And I didn’t get why she’d risk all that love on one stupid drug deal.

“I thought you weren’t going to come for another week …” Her voice broke as she finally pulled back and looked Piper in the face. “My baby, look at you. You’re so beautiful.” She peppered Piper’s face with kisses, and the little girl tossed her head about to duck the onslaught. “Why are you here?” Giselle’s face tensed. She clutched Piper tighter to her chest. “Is something the matter?”

“No. No, God, no.” I nodded to the chair opposite. “Sit. Relax. I just thought …”

“You thought what?” She challenged me with a look. “You thought you’d come give me another lecture? Tell me how I can be a better parent?”

“No.” I looked at the speckled floor below, then up at her face. Her eyes seemed so much tireder, so much older than they did before. “I … I want to say sorry about that, actually. I was out of line. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

And I meant it. When I thought of the thrill that had jolted through me when Everly told me I was a good parent, it made me smile. I could only imagine how much it would have hurt to hear the opposite.

Giselle was looking at me as if I’d sprouted two heads.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, since it seemed perhaps she didn’t hear me on round one.

“I’m just … wow.” She blinked, then nodded, as if taking it all in. She turned Piper so she faced her. “Did you hear that? Cameron just admitted he did something wrong. Holier than thou, can-do-no-ill Cameron—”

“Giselle,” I groaned. Damn it, you gave the woman an inch. Still, that wasn’t the reason I came, and I didn’t want to get into a fight. Not when I was finally beginning to understand this woman more.

“And what’s this I hear about you not staying at my place? Where have you taken my baby?” She clutched her closer to her chest, as if she could keep her there.

“Relax. A friend of mine has a house up the coast—a family home. I just thought it’d be nice for her to be nearer to the beach. Fresh air and all that.”

“What would be nice is if you consulted her mother before making rash decisions,” she snapped.

“What would be nice is if her mother—” I clenched my fists under the table and stopped myself. Piper’s eyes were worried as she tracked between the two of us.

I took a deep breath, counted to three, and when I finally looked back up at Piper and Giselle, what I saw made me smile. Giselle ran her hand over Piper’s head one, two, three times, humming some song to her, and Piper was rapturous. There was no other way to describe her wide eyes, her beaming smile, and while part of me was happy, a small sting tore at my chest. Would she ever look at me like that? Would I ever have that bond with her, or was it a mother–daughter thing?

When the song finished, Giselle pulled her close again, breathing her in.

“She said her first word,” I said quietly.

Giselle’s knuckles turned white as her fingers clenched her tighter. “She did?”

“Yes.” I nodded. “Duck.”

“Baby! Can you say duck?” Giselle pulled back to ask her. “Duck?”

Piper shook her head, and even though I was fairly sure she didn’t understand the meaning of her action, I didn’t miss the look of hurt on Giselle’s face.

“Piper, what did we see at the park? Did we see … ducks?” I tried. I wanted Giselle to have this—to experience this small joy. “Duck? Quack-quack-quack?”

Piper looked at me, and a small smile crossed her features, as if she was remembering. “Gah.”

“Duck!” I grinned, slapping my hand on the table. “Did y’hear that? She said duck.”

“Gah,” Piper said again, and I reached over and squeezed her arm. Damn, she was cute.

“She’s not really saying duck.” Giselle’s voice was cold.

I frowned. “What do you mean? She’s copying me, right out—”

“She’s copying you, but she’s not got the D or the K.” Giselle sighed.

“But she’s copying the sound I made. That’s like learning to speak, isn’t it?” Was I going crazy? Surely this was a big deal.

“Whatever, Cameron. Just trust me, she’s not saying duck.” She turned to Piper again. “But it was nice of Cameron to bring you here, wasn’t it?”

And even though I’d not used the word myself, even though it was a term that had felt unfamiliar to me for so long, I hated that she used my name instead of ‘Dad’.

Perhaps that was why I did it. Or perhaps it was because it’d been on my mind, and I wanted to gauge her reaction when I told her the news. The news I hoped would change things for Piper. For the better.

“Giselle, when you’re outta here, I want to see her more often.” I kept my voice level, devoid of emotion.

It was as if I’d slapped her. She looked at me, her mouth twisted in pain.

“Not sole custody. I know I can’t have that, I do. But I was hoping she could live with me maybe every second week. Or every weekend. Or—”

She clutched Piper close to her chest. Spit flew from her mouth as she hissed, “You do not get to steal my baby.”

“I didn’t say steal. I just thought we could—”

“No! That’s why I asked you, Cameron. Out of all the people I knew, you were the least likely to try take her from me.” Her voice sounded like oil, thick with hate. “You want to steal her. But you’ll never have her, y’hear me?”

How could she think I’d steal her? I’d thought she’d be happy I wanted to spend more time with Piper. Happy I’d want to be in her daughter—our daughter’s life. “I’m not trying to take her away—”

“Yes, you are. You just said you want her in your life.”

“Some of the time,” I corrected her.

“So you don’t love her enough to be a full-time dad?”

“For hell’s sake.” I ran a hand through my hair, my elbows on the table. Piper let loose a whimper. “We have to go. C’mere, Piper.”

“No!” Giselle’s knuckles were white again. “You can’t take her away from me.”

“You can’t keep her in here, either.” I kept my voice calm. “We can talk about the custody thing another time.”

“You’re taking her away. Stealing what’s mine.” Her voice was raised, and the family at the next table over turned to look at us.

“Giselle, we need to go.” I pushed back in my chair, walking around to her side. She turned her back to me, humming in Piper’s ear. “Let me have her.”

“No!”

It was like arguing with a child. In fact, I swore Piper had more sense than this. “Giselle, please.” I felt eyes on my back, and I turned to see the guard by the door training his gaze on us, his lips a thin line. I didn’t want Giselle to get in trouble. Despite everything that’d happened, I didn’t want that.

I sunk back into my seat. “Just breathe. You don’t want to make your time in here any harder than it already is.”

The ocean seemed to wash over Giselle’s features. A wave of peace inched from her furrowed brow to her clenched fists, loosening her muscles.

“I’m not going to take her away from you.”

“Because you can’t,” Giselle said, but the venom had left her tone.

“Because I won’t.” I glanced at my watch. Half past two. “But I really do have to go, sorry. We need to get back before bath time and all the rest.”

Giselle stood, holding Piper close and rocking her side to side, her eyes pressed closed again as she took those last moments for herself.

“Just remember what I said,” she said. “You can’t take her away from me.”

“Okay,” I simply said, as it seemed easier than arguing my point. “Okay.”

Seemingly satisfied, she walked with me toward the door before handing Piper back into my arms. Once her butt rested on my forearm, Piper snuggled in, her face next to my neck.

I didn’t realise it, but at some point I’d tensed every muscle. I exhaled, and everything relaxed—my shoulders, my jaw, the aching in my chest.

This was what was right.

Having Piper here with me.

“Goodbye, Giselle,” I said, but she was already walking away. Perhaps it hurt her too much to see me leave with her baby girl, even though moments ago, I couldn’t tear the two of them apart.

Perhaps it was that one painful reminder that she’d pushed everything good in her life too far away.

* * *

The next day, Piper and I took a drive out of town. After traversing the narrow and windy road, we pulled over outside a wooden shack bursting with flowers and colour. Bright blooms danced in the sea breeze, reds and yellows and pinks and oranges in all different shapes and sizes. Piper was fascinated by the brightest, most garish ones, and I laughed as she grabbed at the petals, looking to me in excitement as she did.

She was particularly attracted to a bunch of pink gerberas, cooing in delight as she bashed at the petals with a less-than-gentle hand, and I placed some money in the honesty box, enough for two bunches.

On the way back to Copacabana, there was a smile on my lips. Piper sang merrily in the back seat, and I was happy. I’d started discussions with Giselle about custody.

But it was more than that.

I felt as if I knew what I wanted. As if for so long, I’d been focused on existing and remembering, and now, I’d given myself permission to move forward.

It still bothered me why Giselle had trusted me to look after Piper. All I could think was what she’d blurted out—that she’d thought I wouldn’t take her away. That she’d been desperate for someone and thought I’d be a good babysitter for a few months, one who would hand her baby back over with outstretched arms.

It would have been easy for me to react that way—to keep myself as closed off to Piper as I had to everyone else since the explosion.

But Piper had worked her way into my world.

And I was sure glad she had.

I slowed the car and brought it to a stop when we reached Everly’s house. The curtains were pulled closed, despite the late-morning hour, and I wondered if she was on holidays, or perhaps just working hard on articles for the blog. Maybe she was at college.

Maybe she was out on a date.

I shifted in my seat. Hopefully not.

“Doesn’t hurt to drop flowers ’round, does it, Piper?” I took the keys and hopped out of the car, leaving the door open. I grabbed one bunch of flowers and ran them up to Everly’s front door, placing them on the mat.

I hesitated. Should I knock, just in case she was inside?

And say what? I know you’ve been avoiding me, so I decided to just show up unwanted and unannounced, and harass you with the happiest flowers you’ve ever seen?

I turned and headed to the car. I didn’t know what I’d expected coming here. It was a stupid idea.

But as the car pulled away from the curb, I swore I saw the curtains twitch.

I swore it.