by Katie Cross
“Uh, yeah. Yes. I just … I … thought I’d stop by and—”
“What’s going on?” Jim asked. My stomach dropped all the way to my toes when his face appeared over her left shoulder. Of course, he would show up right now. I lifted a hand in greeting, as if I did this kind of thing every day.
“Hi,” I said.
His brow furrowed. “Hey, Bits. What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing. I just…”
A long pause stretched between the three of us. He lifted his eyebrows. The girl leaned forward a little. Words failed me. When had I ever been at a loss for words? I’d weathered a divorce, raised two daughters, and run my own business from home. Not even seeing Daniel again had made me this flustered. Firecrackers exploded underneath my skin, heightening the suffocation of my own embarrassment. I just needed to get this over with already.
“Look,” I said, “I had a reason to come over. I swear I did … I just forgot it. I’m Bitsy, by the way. The next-door neighbor and the woman responsible for the small child who has been throwing grenade water balloons over your fence this morning.”
Her eyes widened. “I knew I saw something!”
“Yeah. She thinks she’s Rambo. Sorry about that.” I shoved a hand out. “You must be Cora?”
Her smile stretched into her eyes. “Yes, I am Cora. It’s good to meet you.” She shook my hand with a firm grip. I immediately liked her. “Has my dad been talking about me?” she asked, shoving him with a shoulder.
He grunted.
“A little,” I said.
Jim met my gaze with a rueful expression of apology and gratitude. He hadn’t said one word about her—but the divorce papers had.
“Good,” Cora said, glancing at him. “He doesn’t speak much these days, although he could use a few more friends.”
Jim snarled.
“Listen, sorry to stop you from your run, it looks like. I’ll head back home and let you know when I remember what I came over for.”
Or I’ll just die of embarrassment in the meantime.
Cora waved a hand. “No problem. Just a quick jog.” She stepped out of the darkness and onto the porch next to me. I gasped. Her name wasn’t Cora—it was Stephanie.
Stephanie James.
Her blue eyes. Dark locks. Trademark winning smile. Jim’s daughter was none other than Stephanie James, the star of the romantic comedy A Breath Away.
Her smile wavered a little, as if she knew exactly what had happened in my brain. “Everything okay?”
“Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry. That was really rude. I just didn’t know you were Jim’s daughter. And, you know, one of the biggest upcoming romantic comedy stars of our time.”
“Oh.”
Jim rubbed a hand over his face and hid his mouth as if fighting back a laugh. Cora relaxed a little.
“It’s okay,” Jim finally said. “A lot of people are shocked by her face.”
Cora jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow. “Thanks for warning her, Dad. Sorry. I tell him that if he has friends, he needs to warn them, but he never does.”
“He has friends?” I asked before I could stop myself.
A giggle escaped her, and her eyes danced. “Good one! Actually, he doesn’t. In fact, when you came over just now, I was hopeful that—”
He scowled and said, “I don’t need friends.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “This hasn’t gone the way I wanted it to go, and I’m normally not this … at a loss for words.”
“No kidding,” Jim muttered. I shot him a glare.
Cora fought off a smile as she glanced between us.
“It’s not that I’m shocked by who you are,” I continued, “but I am shocked that your father never mentioned it. Especially when I saw him watching your latest movie, by himself, at the movie theater. He sat with us.”
She shot him a sly glance. “So you do go to my movies?” she drawled.
He frowned again, although there was no real force behind it.
“All of them,” he said proudly.
“Seeing him there makes a lot more sense now,” I said. “I thought he had some weird sort of closet fetish.”
“Only for peanut butter M&M’s,” she said. “They’re his kryptonite.”
“So I noticed.”
“Did he share? Because I’ve never seen that happen in the twenty-four years I’ve been his daughter.”
“He did.”
Her eyes widened. “Special night!”
Jim stepped forward, putting himself between us. “Were you planning on coming over again this week to help me with the attic?” he asked me. “It’s empty now. Could use a good scrub. I really don’t want to get on my hands and knees, nor do I need to scrub another floor. Twenty years in the military was plenty of that.”
An undercurrent ran through his words. He got rid of it, I thought. He wanted me to know what he’d done. A shared moment of understanding passed between us.
We both came from such broken pasts.
“Sounds good,” I said, suppressing a delighted smile and forcing a more business-like tone. “How about Tuesday night?”
He gave a thumbs-up. “Done,” he said. “I look forward to seeing you again. Cora will cook up some decent barbeque. She’s not bad with a steak every now and then. Bring the girls.”
Cora’s eyes brightened. “Yes! Oh, I’d love to have someone else to talk to, and I’d love to get to know you better. Besides, I’ve been meaning to burn that old couch.” Her nose wrinkled. “Now it’s stained and more hideous than before. Barbequing will just give me a reason.”
“Hey!” he cried.
I held up both hands. “I tried!”
Cora laughed. “So I heard. You’re a brave woman, Bitsy.”
“She can hold her own,” he muttered.
His words sent something hot through me, but I ignored it. Instead, I smiled at Cora. “That sounds wonderful. We’ll bring dessert. It was really good to meet you. I’m sure you get a lot of people being weird around you all the time, and I’m sorry I was one of them. My best friend, Mira, is going to freak out.”
“This was nothing compared to most, I swear!”
With one last wave, I stepped away, leaving both of them behind me. Once I was out of sight, I let out a long, slow breath.
Maybe that hadn’t gone so poorly after all.
Chapter 11
No More
Night blanketed the front room in stealthy, low shadows Friday evening. Lana snored from where she lay slumped in the recliner, her chin lolling on her chest. Lizzy breathed deep on the couch, clutching a bright pink teddy bear that Jade had given her. I stood in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen and checked my phone.
Again.
No messages.
“Daniel,” I growled under my breath, then returned to the kitchen. Ten more minutes, then I was going to bed. The clock ticked away on the wall. 9:51. Daniel had either forgotten to pick the girls up, was stuck in a meeting, had lost all his fingers and ability to return my many calls and text messages, or was oblivious to the fact that it was his long weekend with his daughters, who hadn’t stopped talking about going to the water park.
I assumed the latter.
My laptop screen illuminated my face again as I went back to my computer to work, keeping the lights in the house dim. The extra time had given me a chance to catch up—the income would cover the last of the girls’ costumes for the play, which Lizzy had been rehearsing before she realized Daniel wasn’t coming and burst into tears.
Minutes before ten, headlights flashed in my kitchen window. When I peered out, a familiar, sleek car waited in the driveway. I met Daniel on the porch.
He rushed up, half-breathless, a tie skewed away from his neck.
“Bitsy, I’m so sorry,” he said. “It’s been a crazy day with my bosses, and Jade had some appointments—”
“You don’t have to apologize to me,” I said. “It’s the girls who were brokenhearted and crying. They’re the
ones who were looking forward to dinner and the waterpark tomorrow with their dad.”
His face fell.
“Crying?”
Coals seethed in my chest, but I forced a measure of calm into my voice. “Lizzy thought you forgot her and that Jade didn’t want her anymore.”
“No! That’s so far from the truth.”
“Jade didn’t answer either.”
“Jade is back in California for … a little bit. I was stuck in a meeting.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. “I tried to get out, but I couldn’t. Crazy boss, you know? I’m sure they’ll understand.”
“The girls will understand that you forgot them while at work?”
“No! I didn’t forget them. My boss is crazy. I can do this really good impression of him that Lana loves. Anyway…”
He trailed off, an expectant expression on his face. I folded my arms across my chest and waited. I could have said something, but I was enjoying the way he squirmed.
He deserved it.
“Listen, I plan on making it up to them, all right?” He attempted to peer into the house through the windows on the door. “Are they still awake?”
“No! They have bedtimes, Daniel. It’s almost ten o’clock!”
“When is their bedtime?”
I fumed, then managed to grate out, “8:00.”
He shook his head. “Right. 8:00. Jade mentioned something about that last time. Fine, then can I come and get them tomorrow morning when they wake up?”
“It’s your weekend.”
I’m just cleaning up the mess you always leave behind.
“Right.”
He reached back and pulled something out of his pocket. Printed tickets, it looked like.
“I’ve already bought tickets to take them to that amusement park a few hours away. If we leave early, we can be there by ten, and they’ll have all day to play.”
“Amusement park? You’re taking them to the waterpark and the amusement park?”
“I owe it to them. All will be forgotten, right?”
“You can’t buy their love, Daniel. They want you, not some stupid trip. Or two.”
He cocked one eyebrow. “You really think they’ll still be sad that I had a work emergency if they’re riding roller coasters and eating cotton candy? The day after they played on water slides all day? C’mon, Bits. I may not have done this full-time recently, but even I know that’s a winner. Kids are resilient. They’ll figure it out.”
I wanted to slap the smugness out of him. I gritted my teeth. He was right on some level. Unfortunately, it was the level that mattered. The girls would love it. Their happy memories would override the trauma of tonight, and all would be forgiven.
“Fine.”
He let out a long exhale, his shoulders slumping. “Great. Thanks. I’ll be by early. When do they get up?”
“Have you never come over before?” I asked in exasperation.
“It might be different!”
“Lana gets up at 6:00, usually. Lizzy at 8:30.”
“6:00 it is!” he cried.
Are you kidding? I wanted to say. I now had to wake up at least forty-five minutes before that—after staying up late to wait for him—in order to get the girls ready and feed them breakfast so he could go play.
Before I could protest, he frowned.
“I’ll get Lizzy up if she won’t wake up for you.”
“I’ve got it,” I snapped.
He saluted with the tickets. “See you in the morning, Bits. Wait.” His arms fell to his side. He lifted one eyebrow. “Something is different. Did you…”
“No.”
He stared at me for a beat, shook his head, and took off, loping across the lawn with an easygoing stride. I watched him go. Instead of my usual rage and annoyance, a moment of inspiration overcame me.
Hold on.
Perhaps this was my chance.
My chance to let Daniel run the full gauntlet of parenting. To understand what it was really like. He wanted to be the good guy and the dad? Let him try. I’d stop protecting his time with them so carefully and let him be the dad.
And see how that worked out.
With a little spring in my step, I went back inside, carried the girls to bed, tucked them in, made a note of his missed appearance in the calendar, added a few quotes of what he’d said, and went to bed giddy.
I couldn’t wait until morning.
To: Janine Morgan
From: Bitsy Walker
Subject: Self-Care Day 26
Janine,
Today I downloaded a candy game on my phone that Mira swears by and played for twenty minutes. I can see the appeal but didn’t really feel better by the end.
—BW
To: Bitsy Walker
From: Janine Morgan
Subject: Re: Self-Care Day 26
Ah, yes. The addictiveness of phone games. I suggest you not try any further lest it does draw you in. Unless, of course, it brings you joy and fills you when you’re empty. :)
J
To: Janine Morgan
From: Bitsy Walker
Subject: Re: re: Self-Care Day 26
I wanted it to, but it didn’t. I’ll chalk it up on my no list. I also tried to make lasagna yesterday, and Lana loved it. That felt good. Up next is watercolors, but not with the cheap ones.
—BW
To: Bitsy Walker
From: Janine Morgan
Subject: Re: re: re: Self-Care Day 26
Watercolors? I am impressed. Can’t wait for your report back on that one.
J
I woke up at 5:15, showered, dressed, started to wake the girls, made some oatmeal for breakfast, and prepared two backpacks with snacks, sunscreen, extra clothes, swimsuits, water bottles, and papers with my phone number on it in case they got lost. By the time they struggled out of bed—called only by the siren song of water slides—and choked down a couple bites of oatmeal, Daniel showed up.
Twenty minutes late.
I grabbed the calendar and jotted it down as he rushed up the driveway. The doorbell rang three times. I clenched my teeth, sucked in a deep breath, and forced myself to smile through the annoyance. He really wasn’t as responsible without Jade.
“Show him what it really is,” I murmured as I started for the door. “Take three more bites, each of you!” I called over my shoulder.
The girls grumbled but shoveled the oatmeal in as fast as they could. Their speedy recovery from the disappointment was disconcerting, to say the least.
“Hey!” Daniel cried, arms lifted. “Who’s ready for the waterpark? I have a special surprise after that, too. C’mon, I’ll tell you in the car. Ice cream for breakfast, anyone?”
Lana and Lizzy both leaped off their chairs with ecstatic squeals. Before I could force them to finish their healthy breakfast, both girls were in his arms. While Lana attempted to climb up his back and Lizzy show him the triple circle she could spin, I called over the ruckus.
“Before you go, there are a few things that need to happen later this weekend.”
“Sure,” he said. “Ow! No biting.”
Lana cackled, managing to get one arm around his neck and haul herself higher. I shoved a stack of papers into his chest.
“The PTA needs some help with the upcoming play. Volunteer parents to run the booths, help backstage with the kids, and provide refreshments. The meeting is tomorrow at 6:00.”
“PTA?”
“Parent-Teacher Association.”
His brow wrinkled. “What the hel—heck is that?”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Instead, I gave a little smile. Oh, wouldn’t the principal be furious when I didn’t show up?
“It’s a bunch of parents who help out at the school. This play is really important to Lizzy, and since you want to take on more responsibility with the girls, I think it would be good for you to go. Be more visible and all that. Ideal father kind of stuff.”
He let go of Lana to accept the papers, but she still clung to
his neck. He choked just as Lizzy whined.
“Dad! You didn’t see. I just spun three of them in a row!”
“It was beautiful, sweetheart. Lana, let go, I can’t breathe when you grab my neck. Wait, Bitsy, what is all this?”
“Part of it is the PTA paperwork. Also, Lana has a science project due on Tuesday. She isn’t allowed to cram her homework into one night after putting it off all weekend, so I included the folder with the rubric. It would be much easier if you do it while you have her during the day. They’re always exhausted when they come home to sleep.”
“Oh. Lana, get off.”
Lana dropped to the floor with another squeal.
“And Lizzy really needs to work on her spelling words, so please quiz her ten minutes every day. I’ve included the list.”
“Every day?”
“Don’t forget her reading, either. She’ll need you to sign off on it. The folder for it is at the bottom, along with a few books. Also, don’t forget to help her rehearse her lines for the school play. Lana will want to help, but she’s a crustacean and doesn’t say anything. But she does sing one song.”
He shuffled through the papers. “Where?”
“Go get your backpacks please, girls,” I said. Both darted off. Daniel shook his head, eyes widening.
“Grief. This is like a Bible.”
“That is the new PTA handbook they will also be discussing at the meeting. Far stricter than the Bible, trust me. If you really want joint custody, you should make yourself known at school. They need the help. Oh! And it’ll be your turn to bring dessert, so take something good. No walnuts. Two parents are allergic, and I’d avoid dairy if you can.”
“But … where’s the rest of the science project stuff?”
“It’s all there.”
“No, I mean the project.”
“That’s all she’s done.”
He stared at me. “She hasn’t started?”
“No. It was assigned a month ago. I’ve attempted five times this week, at least six times last week, but she keeps blowing it off. She’ll get a bad grade and then won’t be able to go on the final trip at the end of the year, but she’s aware. She’s choosing to put it off.”
“You can’t just let that happen.”
