A Mom for His Daughter

by Jean C. Gordon

  Fiona shook off her melancholy. She’d leave it up to God to determine the future.

  “Do you want me to pick Stella up at three, or do you want to drop her off at the house?” Terry asked before leaving.

  “I’ll bring her by the house.” She was offering so Terry wouldn’t have to come into town again, not because she hoped she might run into Marc there—if he was back from the job.

  “Bye, Gammy,” Stella said, hopping from foot to foot.

  Fiona smiled at her niece’s excitement. She walked her to the pavilion where the group was meeting, reveling in Stella’s lack of sadness at Terry leaving and Fiona stepping in.

  “Hey,” Kat said when they joined the Bridges group at the pavilion. “No Marc?”

  “Daddy work,” Stella said before Fiona could answer.

  “Should we go around together?” Kat asked. “Noah just said they have a separate hunt set up for the kindergartners and preschoolers, so the bigger kids don’t get all the eggs first.”

  “Good plan.” Fiona glanced down at the two little girls.

  “Gammy got me a basket,” Stella said, lifting the pink-and-yellow basket she held.

  “I have my basket, too,” Mia said, not to be outdone.

  “You girls are ready,” Fiona said. “We have to listen now to hear what we’re supposed to be doing.”

  “Finding eggs. Gammy said.”

  Fiona and Kat laughed at Stella’s remark, and Fiona put her finger to her lips, and then to Stella’s. “Listen.”

  The little girl gave her a grin and giggle that made Fiona want to scoop up Stella and hug her.

  Noah finished the instructions, and the adults lined the kids up on the left side of the pavilion.

  “Ready...set...” Noah blew a whistle to start the hunt.

  Stella, Mia and the others raced onto the grass.

  “I hope they don’t trample all the eggs in their enthusiasm to find them,” Kat said.

  Fiona laughed. “Me, too.”

  “Feena, I got one!” Stella shouted, holding it up for Fiona to see.

  “Good work,” she said.

  After the first burst of energy, most of the children slowed down and were searching in the grass, behind rocks and under bushes for the colored plastic eggs.

  Kat looked from side to side. “Not many dads here,” she observed.

  “Marc had planned to be. His work conflict was last minute.” Or at least it was to Fiona. She didn’t know why she was jumping to his defense when earlier she’d thought he was working to avoid her.

  But deep down, she knew why. Because Marc was a good, loving father.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean Marc. I meant in general.” Kat waved her arm at the adults.

  “Sadly, I see what you mean. I probably didn’t notice because my father never came to things like this.” Nor had her mother, much of the time. “And he left when I was eleven.” Fiona pressed her fingers to her mouth. What had come over her that she was telling an almost-stranger about her family?

  “My dad came to everything,” Kat said, “to the point where, when I was older, I wished he didn’t.” The woman’s smile belied her words. “I’m glad he’s willing to be there for Mia, too. I just wish he and Mom lived closer.”

  Fiona braced herself for the wave of jealousy she often felt toward people with loving, intact families. It didn’t come. Her heart swelled. She had Stella and the Delacroixs and, at some point, she and Marc might get back to being friends, at least.

  After about twenty minutes, Noah blew the whistle again and pronounced the younger kids’ hunt finished. The adults rounded them up to have hot chocolate at the pavilion.

  “Look, Feena.” Stella placed her basket on the ground and squatted. “One, two, free, four, five, five, five.” She stopped and looked to Fiona for help.

  Fiona could have melted into one of the snow puddles that dotted the park. “Six, seven, eight. You found eight eggs.” Fiona gave into her earlier urge and swept Stella into her arms.

  “I found eight, too,” Mia said proudly.

  “Down.” Stella pushed against her chest. “Hot choc-it.”

  Fiona let Stella go and admired Mia’s eggs, too, before they walked the girls to a table in the pavilion where a parent volunteer placed a cup of hot chocolate in front of each of them.

  “Mmm,” Mia said.

  “Mmm,” Stella copied, a chocolate foam mustache adorning her upper lip.

  Fiona pulled a napkin from the dispenser on the table. Before she could wipe Stella’s face, the little girl scrambled off the table bench.

  “Daddy!” Stella shouted and took off across the park.

  She was so quick. Fiona dashed out of the pavilion after her and stopped. Marc could see Stella coming, and there was nothing dangerous between the pavilion and him. She checked the impulse to go after her and watched with bittersweet joy as Stella launched herself into Marc’s arms.

  Fiona hadn’t been jealous earlier when Kat had talked about her family. But seeing Stella with Marc’s strong arms holding her close, she was jealous of them both.

  * * *

  “Piggy, Daddy,” Stella said after he caught her and swung her into his arms.

  Marc lifted his daughter onto his shoulders. He’d hated to miss the egg hunt, but his contractor had called late last night with a minor finishing change he wanted to make today that he insisted needed Marc’s in-person approval. His first thought after feeling disappointment was that he had Fiona to cover for him. He pinned his gaze on Fiona standing across the park, waiting for them, and his heart constricted. He wanted Fiona to be there for him always, for more than just Stella.

  By midweek, he’d admitted to himself that he’d been overly harsh with her. He’d missed seeing her face, hearing her voice, the anticipation that sprang alive in his gut when his phone pinged with a text that might be from her. He admitted that she’d been genuinely afraid—not that he hadn’t been afraid, too, for Stella and Fiona. Providing was his strong suit. This nurturing business was still new to him.

  If only Fiona had been more open about her family situation, and if he’d only encouraged her when she had shared. He would have had more basis for understanding. He’d figured today, after being together with Stella, would be a perfect time to talk with Fiona. He’d missed the egg hunt, but they still had the rest of the afternoon.

  Stella tugged on his ear and he turned his head. “Daddy, swings. I want to swing.”

  “In a few minutes, sweetpea. You need to show me all the eggs you found.” And I need to convince Fiona to spend the rest of the afternoon with us, and maybe the evening, too. Playing on the swings should tire Stella out. Then hopefully she’d fall asleep in the car and nap long enough for Fiona to come back to his house so the two of them could talk, see what they could salvage.

  Four strides later, they reached the pavilion and Fiona.

  “Me and Mia got eight eggs,” Stella chattered on. “Feena said I’m good. Right, Feena, I’m a good egg finder?” she asked.

  “The best, in my opinion,” Fiona said, with a smile that hit him hard in the gut.

  Yeah, the best. Only Marc wasn’t thinking about eggs.

  “Hi.” His voice cracked. Marc cleared his throat. “Stella and I thought we’d collect her basket and go swing for a while.”

  “And she has a prize, too.” Fiona lowered her voice. “All the younger children get a stuffed animal.” She pointed toward a table. “Stella’s things are over there with Kat.”

  “Wait, aren’t you going to stay? Stella. The swings.” Marc fumbled with his words, his mind racing to come up with reasons for Fiona to stay.

  Fiona’s eyes brightened. Or maybe he’d imagined it because it was what he wanted to see.

  “No,” Stella said. “Feena, eggs. Daddy, swing.”

  He didn’t want to force eit
her Fiona or Stella. Fiona probably had other things to do. But against his better judgment, he cajoled, “It’ll be fun to have Fiona with us.”

  “Feena, egg hunt. Daddy, swing,” Stella insisted. “Feena go home.”

  “Stella! That wasn’t nice.”

  Fiona bit her lip and said softly, “She’s tired and wants time with you. I understand. I’ll see you tomorrow at church. Bye, Stella.” Fiona started toward the street where her car was parked.

  He’d lost his opportunity, or maybe his courage. But he’d see her tomorrow.

  “Bye, Feena,” Stella called, as if she hadn’t just told Fiona to leave, which he was sure she didn’t fully realize she’d done.

  “Didn’t you have fun today with Fiona?” he asked.

  “I had fun.” Stella nodded so emphatically her ski cap almost fell off. “I like Feena.”

  “I do, too, sweetpea. I do, too.” He walked Stella to the table and watched as Fiona’s figure grew smaller in the distance. Adrenaline shot through him. Because of his arrogance that he, and only he, knew what was best for his family, he’d lost his chance for “laters” before with Cate’s death. He wasn’t going to lose this one. Marc started after Fiona.

  “A chickie, Daddy,” Stella squealed, pulling him back. “Like at Papa’s farm.”

  When he looked across the park again, the words to ask Kat to watch Stella for a minute on his tongue, Fiona was in her car signaling to pull away from the curb.

  Kat handed Stella the stuffed chick from a familiar-looking basket on the table. “It’s your prize for finding so many eggs.” Kat looked behind Stella and Marc. “Where’s Fiona?”

  “She had to go.” Emptiness filled him. Had he lost his opportunity again?

  “We need to head off, too,” Kat said.

  Stella said goodbye to her friend and snuggled the stuffed chick against her cheek. “No prize for Daddy. Share with me?”

  Marc allowed himself a last glimpse across the park in the direction Fiona had gone and rubbed the soft fabric of the toy. “Thank you, sweetpea.”

  But he had a prize. He just didn’t know how to claim it.

  * * *

  The next afternoon, Fiona stood outside a storage shed on the Delacroix farm with Marc’s mother. Spending time with Stella at the egg hunt and seeing Marc had reinforced what Fiona had already thought, even before she’d messed up. She needed and wanted him in her life. The three of them belonged together.

  Calling Marc’s mother yesterday with the plan that had taken seed in her mind on the drive home had gotten Fiona a surprising reaction.

  “I’m glad someone is doing something to put the two of you out of your misery,” Terry had said. She had also shared that last Monday, Stella had announced to Andie and the rest of The Kids Place that “Daddy is mad at Feena, but I’m not.” Fiona felt her cheeks warm. So the whole family, maybe the whole community, knew.

  From what his mother had said, Stella had based her information on a talk Marc had had with her about him and Fiona and Stella not doing things together for a while. Maybe that was why Stella hadn’t wanted her to stay and watch her swing.

  Terry hadn’t pried. She’d simply said, “I don’t know what that man has done, but you have my help to fix it. And anytime you need a mother to talk to, you have my number.”

  Fiona had realized then that she’d gained the family she’d yearned for since her own family had fallen apart. One of her family’s downfalls was that they had no sense of community, not in the way she had here—with or without a romantic relationship with Marc. Raising a child was a joint effort. With family, no one person had to take full responsibility.

  Fiona crossed her arms and hugged herself against the cold wind that had picked up. Lord, please guide me in what I’m about to do, that it’s Your will and not mine, and help me to accept the outcome, whatever it is.

  “Let’s get this going,” Marc’s mother said. She stepped to the shed door and unlocked it. “You wait inside. As we planned, I called Marc this morning and said I needed him to come and get the crib John and I bought for Renee and Rhys out of the shed and load it in our truck for the shower. I told him that John’s shoulder is acting up, and I didn’t want him lifting anything heavy.” Her voice took on a conspiratorial tone. “I didn’t tell him that his father’s shoulder acts up every morning.”

  “He didn’t sound suspicious?” Fiona ran her palms down the front of her jeans.

  “Nope. But I’d better get back up to the house or he might think something is up. I asked him to be here about ten, and it’s five of. Stand behind the barn siding that’s leaning against the back wall,” Marc’s mother directed, “so he doesn’t see you when I open the door.”

  “Okay.” Fiona stepped into the shed and listened to Mrs. Delacroix locking the door behind her. This is it.

  Six minutes later—she knew because she’d checked her phone almost minute by minute—Fiona heard the murmur of voices outside.

  “You didn’t need to walk down with me, Mom.”

  She listened for a note of suspicion in his voice.

  “Like I said, the lock can be temperamental. There’s a trick to getting it to open.”

  “You could buy a new lock,” Marc offered.

  “Why, when this one is perfectly good?”

  Fiona heard the clatter of Mrs. Delacroix opening the lock. “There,” she said, throwing open the door.

  Marc walked in and flicked the light switch. “Where...”

  His mother closed the door behind him and clicked the lock.

  “Is the crib?” he said into the air, before demanding, “What’s going on?” and trying the lift latch on the inside of the door.

  Fiona stepped out from behind the siding.

  “Fiona.”

  The sound of her name on his lips flowed over her like a cleansing wash. “Marc.”

  He motioned at the door. “This was your idea?”

  “Yes, so we could talk with no distractions.” Except the distraction of having him so physically close. It would be so easy to step into his arms, and from his darkening eyes, she didn’t think he’d deny her.

  “Fiona,” he repeated in a raspy voice.

  She raised her hand. “Let me talk, and then you can, if you want. If you don’t want to, I’ll text your mother, she’ll unlock the door and I’ll accept my place in your family as Stella’s aunt and nothing more.”

  He opened his mouth but didn’t speak before he nodded.

  “I’ve prayed. More than I ever have before. I love you and Stella so much. I would never do anything purposely to hurt you. But I know I did by not trusting you, your family or God for help. I’m ready to let go of my past. Take down the barriers.”

  She paused and pinned his gaze with hers, looking for acceptance in the dark depths. Her pulse quickened when she saw a glimmer of light.

  “But I need help. Lots of help. Especially yours.”

  Marc stared at her as if calculating her words. Then his expression softened with what looked like relief. “You have it—my help, me, everything I am and own. I love you. I’ve missed you so much this week.” He opened his arms. “Come here.”

  Despite not being finished with everything she wanted to say, Fiona stepped into them, and he held her close, his heart thumping in time with hers.

  “This is where you belong, for always.”

  It took all the strength she had to pull back. She touched her finger to his lips. “Not yet. I haven’t finished. You have to let go, too.”

  He stiffened, making her pulse stutter. But she had to go on. “You have to let go of your need to prove yourself a success.”

  “You mean my work? Leaving you and Stella at the carnival and at your place after the movie? That was all temporary, part of the start-up. It will calm down once La Table Frais is open.”

  “Will it?
Or is La Table Frais a stepping stone back to being a chef at a New York City restaurant, back to your old life? You did mention going back to New York when we were watching Frozen with Stella.”

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “I said that, didn’t I?”

  “You did. Do you want to go back to the city?”

  “No,” he admitted. “I’m happier here, and so is Stella. We need family around us.”

  “Then stay here. You don’t have anything to prove to me or your family—the people who matter. You’re a complete man, with or without the outward trappings of success.”

  “I might want to buy La Table Frais from my partners.”

  “Let go first, before you do that.” She released a wobbly laugh. “If I have to, you have to.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Don’t you always?” she teased.

  He lifted her chin so she was looking directly into his eyes. “We’re some pair, aren’t we?”

  “Actually, I think we’re two halves of a whole.” If she was in this deep, she might as well throw away caution and take the plunge. “You complete me.”

  “You complete me, too.” He lowered his head and captured her lips in a kiss that she felt all the way down to her toes. It made her lose track of time and everything except the safety she felt in his strong arms.

  Finally, he drew back. “Although I could stay and do this all day long, I have a crib to load into Dad’s truck for Mom.”

  Fiona blinked his handsome face into focus. “And I have a shower gift to wrap.”

  “What do we do to get out of here?” he asked.

  “I have to text your mother.” Fiona tapped in the message.

  When she raised her head, he was looking at her with an expression so full of love and caring, Fiona thought her heart would burst.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “With you by my side, I’m ready for anything.”

  “Even my family?”

  “Especially our family.”

  Epilogue

  That fall

  “Do you think Stella will forgive us for making her ride with your parents?”