Chapter Eight
Friday had always been a day I looked forward to, filled with anticipation for the weekend ahead and excitement for time spent with my daughter. Now it was a day of dread.
I glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. Only fifteen more minutes.
Plunging my hands into the soapy water, I tried to focus on the task in front of me instead of how much I hated this, but a mindless job like washing dishes wasn’t enough to cover up the ache in my heart.
Sharing my daughter was torture.
The day after Lizzie’s birthday, Christian had called at seven fifteen just as he had every night the week before and every day since. He’d asked to speak to me after telling Lizzie goodbye. He wanted to know when he could see her next, and more specifically, he wanted a day of his own.
The man had the audacity to ask me for Saturdays. Saturdays were mine, a day without interruption for my daughter and me, just the two of us. There was no way I’d concede to that.
Instead, I’d given him Friday evenings.
So for the last two months, Christian had shown up at my doorstep every Friday at six to pick Lizzie up and had dropped her off at the same place at eight.
He had two hours. To me, even that was too much. He deserved no time at all.
The worst part of it was how much Lizzie always looked forward to those nights with Christian, how excited she would become as she watched the clock near six. She never questioned whether he would show or not; she expected him to, trusted him to.
And I was left waiting on the sidelines to pick up the pieces when he didn’t.
It sucked.
I loaded the dishwasher and wiped down the counters, preparing myself to face Christian. Just those few minutes at my stoop exchanging “our” daughter were excruciating.
Two minutes later, the doorbell rang.
Taking a deep breath, I dried my hands and tossed the hand towel aside, wending my way to the front door. Glancing through the peephole, I unlocked the door and swung it wide to Lizzie and Christian standing on the stoop.
“Hi, Mommy.” Lizzie grinned up at me, her hair in pigtails and her eyes alive. She clutched her doll to her side, that outrageous toy that must have cost a fortune, the one she never went anywhere without.
“Hi, sweetheart.” I smiled down at her, refusing to begrudge the joy my daughter found in her father. “Did you have a good time?”
She glanced back at Christian and smiled wide before looking back at me and nodding. “Yep. Daddy took me to the park and we had a picnic.”
I covered my grimace and forced out, “That sounds like fun, honey.” My eyes flitted to Christian. His hands were stuffed deep in the pockets of his slacks, his tie discarded, the first two buttons of his white dress shirt undone. His hair that had been styled when he’d shown up at my house earlier was now in disarray, locks of hair obscuring the vibrant blue of one of his eyes.
He was gorgeous. And I hated him for it.
I turned my attention back to Lizzie, gesturing to her father with my head. “It’s time to tell your dad goodnight, Lizzie.”
Her face fell along with my heart. It was agonizing, watching her tell Christian goodbye, how she clung to him, their whispered words of love and promises of how they would miss each other until they saw each other again.
Christian kissed her on the head once more before releasing his hold on her and nudging her toward the door. “Goodnight, my princess.”
“Night, Daddy.”
I closed my eyes, wishing I didn’t have to witness this. “Lizzie, go on upstairs. I’ll be there in a minute to get your bath started.”
“Okay, Momma.” Lizzie mounted the stairs as Christian and I watched her go, and then I slowly turned back to him. This part always felt so awkward, especially in light of the declaration he’d made on Lizzie’s birthday. I’d known what he meant, his intention.
He wanted me back.
I had spent a fleeting moment fantasizing about being in his arms again before my rational side had screamed at me for being a fool, and I had demanded that he leave my house. He’d never stepped inside since.
“Goodnight, Christian.” In his case, I’d given myself over to feigned pleasantries.
He stared at his feet before looking back at me as he ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit of his I hadn’t forgotten. “Listen, Elizabeth . . .”
I braced myself. This was it. My mind raced with what I would tell my daughter, how I would comfort her.
He scratched the back of his head, shuffling his feet, before he grimaced and said in a rushed voice, “I need a favor.”
I scowled, sitting back on my heels and crossing my arms. He wasn’t leaving. He was asking for more. Damn him.
“What?”
He released a heavy breath from his nose, his expression hopeful. “My mother is coming into town next weekend, and I was hoping we could take Lizzie to Sea World on Saturday?”
I shook my head. “You know Saturday is my day with Lizzie, Christian. Why can’t you take her during the week?” As if I would make concessions for his mother, that shallow, pretentious woman who’d done no more than look down her nose at me. And God knew Christian could afford to take the day off.
“Because my mom isn’t getting in until late Friday night, and she has to leave Sunday to get back to work. It’s the only day we can go,” he explained as if it made complete sense where it made none.
That woman had never worked a day in her life. I didn’t realize I was frowning in confusion until Christian spoke.
“Yes, Elizabeth, my mother works,” he said, sounding mildly irritated. “She and my father divorced five years ago.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised. The question had escaped me before I could reel it in. I don’t care about him or what his family does, I reminded myself. But really, I was a little curious. Claire Davison working? The woman who put on airs, who walked around as if her social life were the most important thing in the world? The thought was comical.
Christian chuckled, his eyes glinting amusement. “Shocking, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Why I answered, I didn’t know.
His voice softened. “She’s not who you think she is, Elizabeth.”
I shook my head, wishing to divert the line of conversation that drew me into his personal life, getting back to what mattered—the precious time I had to spend with my daughter. “Saturdays are mine, Christian.” The words were soft, but firm.
He sighed and for a moment looked away before his eyes darted back at me, determined. “Come with us.”
What? I couldn’t imagine anything as tortuous as spending an entire day with him and his mother.
He took a step forward, dipping his head to capture my gaze. “Please, Elizabeth.” My heart sped with his nearness, the warmth of his presence washing over my face and through my chest to where it settled somewhere in the pit of my stomach.
Dangerous.
“Um . . . I . . .” I fumbled over the words, searching for an excuse.
“Please, Elizabeth. Just one day.” His voice dropped lower as he begged, “Please . . . come.”
The intensity of his eyes shattered my resolve. “Fine.”
Gratitude filled his face, his mouth quirking into a small, satisfied smile. “Thank you.” His face was so beautiful and appeared so sincere. I wished I could believe it.
In an attempt to resurrect the wall between us, I stepped back and away from the claws that I felt him slowly, steadily sinking into my skin. I whispered, “Just this once.”
His smile didn’t falter. “Okay then, I’ll pick you two up at nine next Saturday.”
Pursing my lips, I nodded once before I shut the door and shut him out.
I turned to find Lizzie’s face pressed through two bars of railing at the top of the stairs, her smile unending. Closing my eyes, I shook my head, wondering what I had just done.
~
Lizzie sat on her knees in a pink t-shirt and denim shorts, her feet in white sandals, watching out the front window. Her small backpack was secured over her shoulders, her doll secured in the crook of her arm. She had been there for almost a half an hour, and it wasn’t even eight thirty yet.
She’d woken me before dawn by jumping on my bed, yelling in excitement for me to get up. I’d buried my face deeper in my pillow, loathe to face the day.
Christian had picked her up yesterday evening at six just the same as always, only this time Lizzie accompanied him to the airport so she could meet her Grammy. That’s what Lizzie had called her. She went on about the woman for more than an hour after Christian had dropped her off at my door well after nine thirty last night.
Grammy.
The woman who had never shown any interest in Lizzie, had never called, had never once tried to contact us.
Grammy.
It was enough to make me see red.
Dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, I stepped into a pair of flip-flops and pulled my hair into a messy ponytail, then stuffed a towel, sunscreen, and sweatshirts into my backpack. Lizzie loved Sea World, and we’d been enough times to know she’d get wet and cold.
“All ready, Mommy?” Lizzie looked back at me from where she was perched on the floor, her small body buzzing with anticipation.
I forced myself to smile back. “Yes, baby. I’m all ready.” As much as I dreaded this day, I would never let Lizzie know it.
I flitted around the house, straightening up in an attempt to thwart the panic setting in. How will I get through a day with Christian . . . and his mother? She’d always disliked me. The few times we’d met, she’d never said much, offering no more than a cool hello, though her calculating eyes had watched. I could only assume the horrible things she thought about me, things Christian’s father had never hesitated to say aloud. Gold Digger, Richard had called me, and she’d never disagreed. It had hurt. The only thing I’d ever wanted from Christian was his love, his commitment, but never his money.
Jumping up, Lizzie squealed, “Daddy’s here!” She struggled to reach the lock, unlatching it just as the doorbell rang. She threw herself into Christian’s open arms and he scooped her up.
“Good morning, baby girl.” He looked over her shoulder at me as he hugged her close. “Good morning, Elizabeth.”
“Good morning,” I mumbled as I grabbed my backpack and purse and headed toward the door. Christian put Lizzie back on her feet and took her hand.
I swallowed hard, feeling my face heat with my thoughts.
I swore he was doing it on purpose, the way he wore his black t-shirt taut over the obvious definition of his chest and stomach, his dark jeans slung low on his hips. Forcing my eyes closed, I fought to remember what I felt when I’d left his apartment that final time, what he had said, opening them to remember why I hated this man. I squared my shoulders and strode toward the door with my resolve firmly set in place.
As Christian and Lizzie walked hand-in-hand down the sidewalk, I locked the door, bracing myself for the anger I knew would come when I came face-to-face with Christian’s mother.
I took the ten steps down the sidewalk and froze when I rounded the corner to the driveway. Claire stood in front of Christian’s car with Lizzie in her arms, her face buried in Lizzie’s neck. Claire looked up, tears glistening in her eyes, a mixture of joy and pain on her face.
Instantly, a lump formed in my throat. How could she hold my daughter like that after she’d rejected her all these years? I didn’t understand this, any of it—Christian, his mother, how I felt, the sympathy that surged through me when I saw Claire’s face. I didn’t want to care.
With what seemed like great reluctance, Claire set Lizzie down. I stiffened as she approached me. Her hair had grayed, but shimmered in the tight ponytail she wore it in, her face virtually unmarred from wrinkles; the few around her eyes and mouth were subtle and soft. Her eyes were just as blue as Christian’s, just as intense, just as warm. She was beautiful, incredibly so, but in an entirely different way than I remembered. The conceit was gone, in its place a gentleness that I’d never associated with this woman.
She stopped two feet away from me, seeming unsure. Her bottom lip trembled when she said, “Thank you, Elizabeth.” She stepped forward, grabbing my limp hand and squeezing it. “Thank you.”
I shook my head in misunderstanding and took a small step back. I was not sure whether I was willing to accept her thanks. Her mouth fell into a small, sad smile, and she squeezed my hand again before she dropped it and turned away.
Christian was buckling Lizzie into a booster seat in the backseat on the driver’s side of his car, the two of them raving about how excited they were. Christian had never been to Sea World and he deemed Lizzie his tour guide, tickling her as he made her promise to show him all of her favorite things. Claire laughed and joined in on their banter as she climbed into the front passenger seat.
Sucking in a deep breath, I forced myself to walk around to the opposite side of the car to take my place next to Lizzie. I slunk down into the black leather seats, feeling the most uncomfortable I’d ever felt in my life. I didn’t belong here. Lizzie didn’t belong here. We’d been thrown aside, and now here we were, giving ourselves over to Christian’s mercy. It was so wrong. How I wished I could take back the decision I’d made to allow him to see Lizzie in the first place. He would have given up by now, and Lizzie and I would be living the quiet life I’d built for us, not waiting for the bottom to drop out of it.
In silence, I listened as Christian, Claire, and Lizzie chattered nonstop. Claire asked Lizzie countless questions about her life, what she liked, what she didn’t like. Claire sat sideways in her seat, her attention focused on my child and her son. The hardest to hear were the stories she told Lizzie of Christian when he was a child. Adoration radiated from her as she described a curious little boy, how inquisitive he had been and the trouble it had continually gotten him in. Claire would reach out and caress Christian’s shoulder or his forearm and sometimes even held his hand.
I stared at them, unable to comprehend what was happening in front of me. It was as if she wasn’t even the same woman. The woman I had known, Christian had been little more than indifferent to and I’d all but despised her, believing in my heart that she didn’t even love her own child.
But now—
I shook my head, embarrassed when I caught Christian’s eye in the rearview mirror when I did so, even though I couldn’t look away. He smiled softly, as if he were reiterating that she wasn’t who I thought she was, that she was wonderful and lovely and that I shouldn’t try to stop the fondness for her building up within me.
I tore my attention away, forcing it out the window to the world happening outside this car because it was impossible to bear what was happening inside. I wiped the tears that began to run down my face, tears of frustration for being thrown into the midst of this reunion, tears of anger that it was happening now, five years late, and worst of all, tears of relief shed for the knowledge that Christian’s mother loved him. Those tears scared me most.
Twenty minutes later, we pulled into the vast parking lot of Sea World, already overflowing with cars. The three of them scrambled out. I stalled, taking my time to adjust my backpack while I tried to get myself together.
The cool morning mist had begun to dissipate, and bright rays of sunlight broke through, warming my skin. If we were here under any other circumstances, I would have thought this was the perfect day to spend here.
“Mommy, are you coming?” Lizzie yelled over her shoulder, looking back at me from where Claire and Christian had her flanked, a hand in each of theirs and standing about fifty feet away.
Nodding, I slung my backpack over my shoulders. “Right behind you.” Christian grinned in what could only be construed as pure excitement, while Claire gazed back somewhat sympathetically as if she knew how hard this was on me, though I was sure no one else could understand the kind of torture this would be.
I stayed at least ten steps behind them, careful to keep a distance. Lizzie squealed with delight as they traveled across the parking lot. Christian and Claire swung her into the air every few steps. Their laughter rang out, high and low, melodious—joyous—a stark contrast to the resentment I felt inside. I couldn’t believe Christian was carrying on as if this were normal, as if I belonged here with them, as if he hadn’t bulldozed me into suffering through this day.
We fell in line at the ticket booth, the three of them still hand-in-hand while I kept a small amount of space between us.
Christian stepped forward, next in line, passing a credit card through the window. “Three adults and one child.”
“Christian, no,” I said, snaking around him to give my debit card to the woman.
“Elizabeth.” His voice managed to hiss and plead at the same time. “Just let me pay. Please.”
I shook my head in stubborn petulance. “I don’t want your money, Christian.”
Darkness clouded his expression, and he lowered his voice, inclining his head toward me. “I know, Elizabeth, you never have. You never even asked for what was yours.” Disarmed by the sadness I saw in his eyes, I found myself too shocked to resist any longer. I stepped back and self-consciously tucked my card back into my shorts pocket, terrified at how easily he’d just persuaded me.
Christian handed each of us a ticket. I accepted mine somewhat reluctantly, my attention directed to the ground as I muttered, “Thanks,” under my breath, wishing not to owe him my gratitude. I glanced up to find him staring, his lips pursed, pensive. He opened his mouth as if to speak but closed it and jerked his attention away.
“You ready, sweetheart?” Christian reached for Lizzie, the fervor back in his voice, though it sounded somewhat forced.
“Yep!” Lizzie accepted his hand, skipping beside him as they bounded toward the gates.
Disinclination weighed down my feet, and I trudged along behind them, grunting at the man who accepted my ticket and wished me a good day.
That would be impossible.
I spent the morning as an intruder in their trinity, in the outskirts of their pleasure. Christian met each exhibit with unadulterated wonder, as a child in awe. I kept up my reluctant pursuit as they wandered through habitats, observed them as they marveled at sharks and dolphins and whales with sheer fascination. But their captivation with their surroundings paled in comparison to the enchantment they seemed to find with my little girl.
If it were possible, Christian had not once lost contact with Lizzie. Her hand was continually in his, and when her feet grew tired, he didn’t hesitate to swing her onto his back. Lizzie kept an eye on me to assure that I was never far behind, her precious face urging me near. Christian cast glances my way, mindful, though he rarely lingered; his attention was focused on my daughter.
“Daddy, this is my very favorite!” Lizzie gushed as we approached the pools, and she rushed forward to stand on her tiptoes to dip her fingers into the water. Bat rays circled and Lizzie stroked their backs as they floated by.
Christian leaned over the pool, his first touch tentative as he reached out, just grazing his fingertips along the edge of a small ray’s wing. He looked at Lizzie and then at me, unable to contain the thrill spilling from his smile.
“This is incredible.” He shook his head just as mesmerized as Lizzie was as he sunk his hand into the water, this time running the palm of his hand down the center of the ray’s back.
“Aren’t they pretty, Daddy?” Lizzie asked, trailing her fingers lightly over the creatures soaring through the water.
Christian ran the back of his hand down her cheek and under her chin, his expression tender. “Beautiful,” he said, clearly speaking only of Lizzie.
I had to turn away, away from what I saw but refused to believe—away from what I’d seen every time he’d been with her.
He couldn’t love her. He just couldn’t. She was just a distraction, that’s all. This, whatever it was, was unsustainable, fleeting. I had to hold fast to that belief. Anything else would render us weak, vulnerable, and I couldn’t afford to leave myself without adequate defenses.
In my discomfort, the morning passed slowly. Each minute dragged in measure with my feet. The four of us ate lunch at a table that was much too small. Extreme effort was spent focusing on my food and not the constant jokes Christian made, Lizzie’s laughter infectious as she giggled over the silliness exuded by her father. He was playful, unabashedly so, making no excuses for the ridiculous faces he made, his only concern to garner a reaction from Lizzie.
He looked so much like the man I once thought him to be.
A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, one I refused to release. I bit my lip, cursing Christian’s ability to wear me down, asking myself, more importantly, why I was allowing him to do it.
Relief swept over me when he finally stood to gather our garbage, piled it on a tray, and walked across the eatery to dispose of it. I was thankful for the moment’s respite from his presence.
Christian returned seconds later, brushing off his hands as he asked, “Where to next, Lizzie?”
Lizzie clambered down from her chair, bouncing. “Can we go play in the water now?”
Five minutes later, we approached the play area. Christian and Lizzie had run up ahead, while Claire and I trailed behind in silence. Lizzie glanced back, her impatient grin urging us to catch up.
“You wanna play, Momma?” she sang out once we were in earshot.
Never once had I passed up an opportunity to play with my daughter, but in this setting, I couldn’t imagine myself romping around alongside Christian. It was just too intimate.
“Um, I think I’m just going to watch you this time, Lizzie. You go on ahead.” Disappointment flashed across her face, and I dropped to a knee in front of her, running an affectionate hand down her arm. “I’ll be sitting right there, watching you the whole time. Okay, sweetheart?” I pointed at a bench under the shade of a tree and forced myself to smile.
She glanced behind her, nodding when she turned back to me. “Okay, Momma.”
I breathed a sigh of relief when she agreed. As much as I didn’t want to let my daughter down, I was desperate for a few moments to myself to clear my head. I kissed her on the forehead before retreating to the welcomed seclusion of the empty bench.
The solitude didn’t last long.
“She’s a wonderful child,” Claire said as she sat down beside me. “You’ve done such an amazing job with her.”
I cast a sidelong glance. She looked ahead, watching Christian and Lizzie frolicking in the short bursts of water shooting up from the ground. I nodded, unsure of how to respond or if I even wanted to respond. Six hours ago, I’d thought Claire Davison to be coldhearted and void of emotion, but now, I could only see her as kind and gentle. I still wasn’t sure how to handle that.
Lizzie shrieked, tearing my attention from Claire. Lizzie giggled as she dodged a burst of water. “Catch me, Daddy!”
Christian chased her, his laugh loud and surprised as a stream of water struck him against the side of his face, then again on his chest, soaking his shirt.
Lizzie squealed and danced. “You got all wet, Daddy!” Christian darted for her, sweeping her from her feet and into his arms. He chuckled and teased, “And now I’m gonna get you all wet.”
Lizzie kicked her feet, howling with laughter and screaming, “No, Daddy, no,” though it was clear she relished every second of it.
My depression grew just watching them. Lizzie had fallen in love with her father, the thing I’d feared most. I had no idea how she would survive once he was gone.
Claire interrupted my torment by uttering softly, “He’s a good man, Elizabeth.”
I closed my eyes against her words, angry tears breaking free and running hot down my face. I had spent the entire day holding in my pain, pretending it didn’t hurt to look at him, and I couldn’t contain it any longer. I was so scared, scared of the muddled mess of emotions swirling inside of me, scared of the part of me that wanted to believe he was a good man.
“I’m scared.” The words slipped from my mouth before I could stop them.
She emitted a sad, slow sigh, her brow bowed in sympathy. “What he did to you was terribly wrong, Elizabeth, and I don’t blame you for feeling the way you do. But I think you should know he’s regretted every day he’s spent without you, every day without his daughter.”
I shook my head, my voice sharpened with bitterness and laced with agony. “If he’d really loved me, he would have come back.”
She grimaced and nodded, though she wasn’t agreeing. “He should have.”
“Then why didn’t he?” Desperation oozed from me.
She glanced to where Christian and Lizzie played and back at me. “That’s something you’re going to have to ask him.” She looked back at her son and granddaughter playing, shaking her head. “I’ve never understood it myself.” Her voice was low, and I was unsure whether she’d meant for me to hear the last part.
“I’m not asking you to forget what he did, Elizabeth, but I am asking you to give him a chance to prove himself.” She wasn’t saying that she condoned what he’d done, nor did she condemn. She simply supported the son she loved.
Consumed with uncertainty, I watched the man who had crushed me and who still had control of my heart. I wanted to believe what Claire was telling me. Believe that he’d really loved me, believe that he loved me now—most importantly, that he’d never hurt me again. I just didn’t know if I ever could.
As if she had read my thoughts, Claire patted my hand, understanding thick in her words. “Sometimes forgiveness takes time.”
Heaviness settled in my chest, and I found it difficult to speak. “I don’t know if I can.”
“But you still love him,” she said.
I sighed and turned my face away. Loving Christian was something I’d never admit aloud, something I barely acknowledged in my own head. Sure, Matthew and Natalie knew, though it remained unspoken between us.
“I see it in the way you look at him,” she pressed on in conviction.
My silence could only affirm what she already knew.
Quiet settled over us as we watched Christian and Lizzie play. So much had changed in our years of separation, so much I didn’t understand. Somehow, her heart had softened and expanded while mine had grown hard and cynical. That prominent part of me screamed at how careless I was by exposing my feelings to Christian’s mother.
But for a few peaceful moments, I chose to ignore that voice and just absorb the solace lent in her words.
“Thank you,” I whispered. I was thanking her for so many things, for the advice I wasn’t sure how to handle, for her compassion, for her understanding, for loving my daughter, for loving Christian—maybe even for loving me. No doubt she’d already bound herself to my heart. Most of all, I was thanking her for showing me people had the ability to change.
Claire’s hand tightened over mine, and she shook her head slowly. “No, Elizabeth, thank you.”
~
The arena was packed for the last show of the day, the sky darkened, the air chilled. We squeezed into a middle row near the top. We were all worn out, Lizzie especially. Christian had carried her in his arms for the better part of an hour, and even though we all knew better, Lizzie had insisted she wasn’t tired at all and wanted to stay to see the nighttime Shamu show and fireworks.
Obviously, I wasn’t the only one she had wrapped around her finger.
Christian settled next to Claire with Lizzie on his lap, and I had no choice but to take the small space beside him.
The afternoon had passed quickly this time as I’d paid purposeful attention to the way Christian interacted with my daughter. I’d forced myself to not to watch them through betrayed eyes but with an open mind, to see the clear adoration in his face as he watched everything she did, the way his eyes lit up when she spoke, the gentle way in which he held her, just as he did now. She was curled up on his lap, her eyes drooping in lazy contentment as we waited for the show to begin. She was asleep before the loudspeaker announced the start. Christian stared down at her, his expression worshipful as he swept her bangs from her eyes, a tender hand ran down the side of her face.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, struggling to accept what my scarred heart warred against.
He loved her.
He tilted his face to mine, his eyes raging, so many emotions swimming in their depths. “I love her so much, Elizabeth.” So many times, I’d heard him claim it as he told her goodbye, but this was the first time I believed it. He shifted her, cuddling her closer against his chest, turning away to press a kiss on her head. “So much,” he whispered, though this time the words were not intended for me.
I was sure the show was spellbinding, a magical finale that would have filled the wide-eyed crowd with awe, though I wouldn’t have known. Staring unseeing ahead, I was unable to focus on anything but the ardor emanating from the man who sat beside me, cradling my child. As the show ended and gave way to fireworks brightening the sky, I lifted my face to the cool night air, closed my eyes, and for one minute let it all go. I was so tired of being angry and of living a guarded life. In that moment, I convinced myself that this constant worry couldn’t stop what was happening beside me, and for now, I would let Christian try to be a father. He might fail, and he might walk away, but I just couldn’t fight this any longer. I would give him that chance to prove himself.
Though I knew Claire had intended more when she’d made that request, I doubted a wound that deep could ever be healed, that I could ever trust enough to risk my heart in that way again. But as my body was washed in the warmth of his nearness, a part of me wished I could.
~
The ride home was spent in easy silence, and for the first time in nearly three months, I felt something resembling relaxation. Lizzie had done little more than stir when Christian had transferred her from the cocoon of his arms into her booster seat. Now I watched as moonlight filtered in through the window and across her face, her fair skin glowing.
A dull thrum of anxiety still echoed in my chest, a reminder of the responsibility that rested on me to keep her safe, and I was sure this uncertainty was something I would never truly be free of.
Christian pulled into my driveway just before eleven. The neighborhood was quiet as I stepped from his car, both my body and my mind weary. Stretching, I was unable to stifle the yawn that came as I rounded the driver’s side of the car. Christian beat me to it and waited beside Lizzie’s opened door.
“May I?” He inclined his head toward Lizzie.
Out of instinct, I almost said no, but instead I stepped back. “Sure.”
Taken by surprise, he studied me for a moment before smiling sleepily and ducking his head into the back of his car. Once again, his movements were gentle, mindful of the sleeping child as he unbuckled her and gathered her into his arms, fumbling as he tried to grab her doll and backpack.
“Here, let me get that.” I nudged him aside, reached in, and collected Lizzie’s things before I slowly led Christian and Claire up the sidewalk to my front door. Taking a calming breath, I inserted the key, turned the lock, and pushed the door wide open.
For the first time since Lizzie’s birthday, Christian stepped through the threshold and into my home, a fulfillment of the promise he’d made to return.
He stood in the foyer, holding my daughter and appearing, once again, to ask for permission.
With a small amount of reticence, I motioned with my hand toward the staircase. “Her bedroom is the first door on the right.”
Christian quickly ascended the stairs, his footsteps light as he disappeared at the landing.
Claire reached out and cupped my face, her touch a grateful whisper.
I nodded against it, allowing a single, frightened tear to slip down my face. She wiped it away and then hurried to join her son upstairs.
Muted, soft words floated downstairs. I had no idea how many minutes I stood alone before Christian and Claire finally left Lizzie’s room, their leaden steps revealing their reluctance to leave her. I fidgeted, unsure of what to do with myself in my own home, thrown off kilter by their presence.
Christian moved toward the door, pausing when he stood in front of me, his expression solemn. “Thank you, Elizabeth.” He glanced toward the stairs and then back at me. “This was the best day of my life.”
I looked down at my feet, unable to respond. The day had been too much, and the sorrow that came with his statement nearly brought me to my knees. He shuffled out the front door, and in his absence, Claire wrapped me in her arms. “Thank you, Elizabeth,” she whispered against my ear. “You are an amazing, wonderful girl, and I’m so happy you allowed me to share this day with you.”
In confusion and heartbreak, I clutched her to me, weeping quietly against her shoulder. She shushed me and murmured, “It’ll all work out. Just wait, you’ll see.” She pulled back and took my face in her hands. “You’ll see.”
She hugged me once more before stepping away and walking out the door.
Sniffling, I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, chuckling somewhat nonsensically at the doll I still held. I took it upstairs and tucked it in beside my sleeping daughter. I kissed Lizzie’s cheek and prayed that her grandmother was right.