by Megan Green
“Sounds delicious,” Kate says, dropping her eyes back down to my daughter’s. “Did you have strawberries and whipped cream, too, Ellie?”
My youngest nods, her tongue coming out to lick her lips, as if the mere mention of food has made her hungry. “I love whip cweam!”
“Me, too. Especially on a cup of hot cocoa,” Kate agrees, sending both of my girls into a tizzy over their favorite winter beverage.
I wait while they finish debating whether hot cocoa is best topped with mini marshmallows or crushed candy cane—my girls are firmly in the marshmallow camp—before turning and gesturing to the ticket counter.
“Shall we?”
The line moves quickly, and before long, we’re enveloped in a sea of color. Everywhere we look, there’s something new to see, some exotic creature that you’d never happen upon while wading into the shallow depths of the Atlantic at our nearby beaches.
The girls are transfixed, both of their eyes wide as they take in the sights of the tunnel tank. Water surrounds us, the walls and ceiling made completely out of glass, allowing a three hundred and sixty-degree view of what must be hundreds, maybe thousands, of fish.
“Daddy, look!” Ellie shouts, throwing out her hand and pointing as a sandbar shark goes gliding by. She cranes her neck back to make sure that I’m looking, and her little smile is so infectious, I can’t help the laugh that booms out of my chest.
“I see it, Monkey. Pretty cool, right?” I drop down to one knee next to her, tugging her into my side. “You see that guy over there? That’s called an angelfish.”
Her mouth falls open. “An angel, Daddy? Like Mommy?”
I hadn’t realized the connection she might make when I pointed out the graceful little guy, and it takes me a second to decide how to respond. Debbie had told the girls their mother was an angel after the funeral, and I didn’t really know how to feel about that. As someone who’s unsure of what he believes in when it comes to the whole heaven and hell thing, I didn’t really appreciate my mother-in-law taking it upon herself to start telling my daughters stories.
Finally, I press a kiss to her temple, deciding trying to explain the complex workings of faith and the afterlife wasn’t really a conversation for the aquarium—much less with a three-year-old. “Yeah, sweetie. Like Mommy.”
Ellie turns her focus back to the aquarium, her nose scrunched in thought, her eyes going in search of something.
“What are you looking for, Monkey?”
“Mommy. If there are angels in here, maybe Mommy is here, too.”
See, this was why I preferred to keep my girls’ heads firmly in the here and now. Not grasping at some make-believe fairytale that most likely isn’t even remotely true.
“Mommy’s not here, Ellie,” I say, pulling her into my arms.
“But, Daddy, you said—”
“I know, sweetie. But Mommy isn’t a fish. She’s not here.”
Her bottom lip quivers, her eyes beginning to fill with tears as she turns to look at me. “I miss Mommy.”
I crush her to my chest, my arms wrapping around her tiny body as if they can somehow protect her from this world of hurt. The smell of her sweet shampoo fills my nose, the familiar scent providing me with some much-needed comfort and strength in this somber moment.
“I know, Monkey. I miss her, too.”
Our heartbreaking exchange is cut short when there’s a light tap on my shoulder. Lifting my face from Ellie’s hair, I turn to find Gracie and Kate standing there, concern written all over their faces.
Ellie keeps her face buried against my chest, her little shoulders shaking with her sobs. It’s not until Gracie speaks that my baby girl finally brings her gaze up to the rest of ours.
“Come on, Ellie,” she says, holding out her hand for her sister. “Let’s go see the penguins.”
Ellie drops her hold on me, reaching out and joining her sister. And as soon as their hands touch, it’s as if a switch has been flipped inside my baby. She sniffs hard, her ragged breaths evening out as she squares her shoulders. When she turns to look back at me, all the sadness that had been in her eyes only moments ago is now gone, replaced by courage and tenacity.
Just like her sister.
I’m suddenly so grateful for my oldest daughter that I nearly break down and weep right here in the middle of the floor. In the past week, she’s proven that while she might only be six years old, she’s got more bravery and willpower than most people five times her age. She’s an amazing role model for her younger sister, and I honestly don’t know what I’d do without her.
I push myself up to my feet, and Kate comes to stand next to me as we trail after my girls.
“You okay?” she asks, and I respond only with a nod.
“Okay.”
She doesn’t push further. Doesn’t try to get me to explain what that whole thing had been about. She simply walks beside me in silence, content with my vague answer.
Felicity would’ve never let me get away with not providing details. Even when we’d first met, she’d insisted on knowing every thought that was running through my head. If I grew silent for a moment, she’d ask me what I was thinking about. And if I tried to say nothing, it would somehow morph into a problem with our relationship.
I’d chalked it up to her insecurities that came from dealing with her home life, but now I’m not so sure.
Kate had grown up in the same environment. And yet here she was, letting me be, not pushing me to talk about something I clearly don’t want to talk about.
I’d known this woman for forty-eight hours, and she’d somehow managed to take everything I thought I knew about my wife’s past and turn it completely upside down.
“Auntie Kate! Come look!” Gracie shouts, frantically gesturing for Kate to join her and Ellie. “There’s flat fish!”
Kate and I shoot each other puzzled looks before hustling over to the girls. They’re standing in front of a low open tank, and I quickly see what Gracie had been talking about.
“Those are called stingrays,” I say, but I’m fairly certain neither one of them hears me. They’re too transfixed by the gray floating blobs.
When a woman across the tank from us leans in to touch one of the stingrays, Gracie squeals, turning to me and dancing from foot to foot.
“Can I touch one, Daddy? Can I? Can I?”
I look around the rest of the room, seeing several people bent over to feel the fish. There are a few signs posted that explain the safety measures of the “touch tank.”
My eyes scan them quickly before turning back to my daughter. “I suppose so. But you have to promise to listen to me, okay, Gracie?”
She nods emphatically. “Yes, Daddy.”
“I mean it, Gracie Belle. You listen to every word I say or I’ll have to take you out to the truck. Same goes for you, too, Ellie.”
Gracie crosses a finger over her chest, and her little sister follows suit. “Cross my heart.”
“Okay, come here then,” I say, beckoning Gracie over as I sit down on the edge of the tank.
With my arms locked firmly around her waist, I lower her arm down slowly, feeling her body tense as her fingers break the surface of the water. I smile at her nervousness, wondering how she’s going to react when she finally comes in contact with the slimy stingray.
I should’ve known better, though. Of course my tough as nails little girl wouldn’t shriek and take off running at the feel of something foreign. Instead, her eyes light up, her giggle erupting from her mouth without restraint.
“It feels so cool!”
Ellie appears at my side. “I wanna feel!”
“No, I’m not done yet,” Gracie says, her brows pinching together in frustration. “Tell her to wait her turn!”
“Daddy!” Ellie shrieks.
“Stop being such a baby!”
Ah. I knew it was too good to last. They’ve been getting along a little too well this morning.
Kate steps in then, placing her hand on Ellie’s shoulde
r.
“I can hold, Ellie,” she offers, quickly adding, “if it’s okay with your dad, that is.”
I surprise myself by nodding. Normally I didn’t trust anybody outside my tight circle of family and friends with the safety of my girls. But I hadn’t even given her offer a second thought.
I’ll be right here, I tell myself. It’s not like she’s going to be left alone with Ellie unsupervised.
But even as I think the words, I know they’re not entirely true.
For some reason, unbeknownst to me, I trust this woman. I don’t know why, or how, but every instinct deep within my gut tells me that she’s not out to hurt my family. She only wants to be a small part of it.
I watch as Ellie climbs up onto Kate’s lap, watch as Kate slowly lowers her down the same way I had lowered Gracie. And I watch as Ellie’s face twists in horror when she feels the unfamiliar sensation, her arm recoiling so fast she nearly tumbles out of Kate’s embrace. But before that can happen, Kate catches her, hugging Ellie to her chest as her head falls back on her shoulders, a loud laugh booming past her lips and filling the room.
Gracie giggles in my arms, and at the sound of both of their laughter, Ellie forgets that she’s supposed to be disgusted and starts in as well.
It’s a moment I know I’ll remember for many years to come. Me and my daughters, sitting around the touch tank, eyes filled with happy tears, bellies aching from the force of our laughter.
And the beautiful woman beside me. A woman who had come into my life under the most tragic of circumstances.
But a woman who might be exactly what my little family needs.
Chapter Eight
Kate
I stare at the blinking cursor on my screen, the page still as blank as it had been when I pulled up the fresh document over an hour ago.
I could count on one hand the number of times I’d experienced writer’s block over the course of my career. Hell, I could count on one finger, and that time didn’t really count because I had a hundred and three degree fever and could barely form a coherent sentence in my drug-induced haze.
I’ve never had trouble with words. Never had a problem with stories coming to me. If anything, they came to me too quickly, my fingers unable to keep up with all the thoughts running through my mind.
Not today, though. Today, it’s as if every idea I’ve had over the last few weeks, the weeks I’d spent perfecting the piece I’d turned in to Izzy the day before my departure for Virginia Beach, have suddenly vanished, and I’m left sitting here in front of my laptop like I’ve never even heard of words.
“Ugh!” I groan, pushing my hands into my hair and tugging at the roots. It hurts, but at least the pain momentarily takes my thoughts away from my frustration.
What is wrong with me?
Have I finally hit the point in my career where I just don’t have anything left to say?
Or maybe it’s grief. Surely the shock of losing my sister was an acceptable reason to lose focus on my career, right?
But as each thought runs through my head, I know they’re not true.
It has nothing to do with lack of ideas. Nothing to do with the death of my sister.
And everything to do with the family she left behind.
It’s been three days since the visit to the aquarium with Shane and the girls, which means it’s been three days since my brain has thought of anything but that afternoon.
I’d been so nervous for our first public outing, so unsure if the sort of strained accord Shane and I had fallen into the evening before would continue during the daylight hours, after he’d had some time to think and sleep on it.
Turned out, I hadn’t needed to worry. The girls had shown the same amount of excitement at my presence as they had at our first meeting, and the easy way Shane had smiled at me had made me feel right at home.
At least, it had until we’d reached the touch tank. Something had shifted after we left that room. Not with Gracie and Ellie. They were still their exuberant little selves as we made our way through the octopus tank, the otter exhibit, and even the reptile cages.
But Shane…
It was as if a switch had been flipped, and the carefree Shane from the first hour of our visit had turned back into the Shane from the funeral.
Okay, maybe that was a bit extreme. He hadn’t been outright rude to me like he was at our first encounter. But instead of smiling and laughing like he had been, I received only grunted responses and brief flashes of a look before his eyes focused on something… anything else.
I wasn’t sure what had changed in the span of just a few minutes.
But I was sure I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it in the seventy-two hours since.
Bringing my eyes back to my laptop, I stare at the blank page for a second more before slamming it shut and grabbing my phone. I’d been expecting a text from Shane all morning, canceling the after school ice cream and park date I’d made with the girls before leaving the aquarium. Something told me after the way things had ended after that last visit, I may have seen the last of my nieces.
The question is, what exactly had I done? Had I said something that had offended him? Done something that overstepped the boundaries Shane had set? The only thing I can think of was offering to hold Ellie while she reached in to touch the stingrays, but I had asked his permission first. He’d seemed fine with it when he agreed, but it was after that he started acting strangely.
Did he think I was trying to step into my sister’s shoes? Surely he wouldn’t think that I expected to…
I tap on Shane’s name in my contacts, typing out a quick text message.
ME: Are we still on for this afternoon?
The clock on my screen tells me it’s almost one-thirty, and I know Gracie’s school gets out at two fifteen. Shane had agreed that once he picked her up, they’d swing by Ellie’s daycare to grab her and then meet me at the ice cream shop over on Main Street. If the meetup is still going to happen, I need to start getting ready.
Those three dots that indicate the recipient is typing a message start bouncing, and I stare at the screen as I wait for it to come through. Seriously, whoever thought it was a good idea to invent those little bastards is the worst kind of masochist. It’s bad enough having to wait. But having to wait, knowing the person is typing… deleting… typing again… it’s freaking torture.
I set my phone on the desk, propping my chin in my palm as I scowl down at it.
How hard is it to answer a simple question?
Closing my eyes, I pull in a deep, calming breath, trying to steady my nerves. I’d already been expecting him to cancel, so why am I so worried?
It’s no big deal, I remind myself. You didn’t even know those two little girls existed until a few days ago. Surely you can go back to life as usual if Shane cuts you off.
That’s just it though. Now that I’ve gotten to know them, now that I know just how wonderful Gracie and Ellie truly are… I’m not entirely sure I can move on without them.
My phone dings, pulling me from my thoughts as my hands fumble to grab it. Before entering my passcode to unlock it, I tell myself I’m going to respect his decision.
If Shane wants me to leave, I’ll leave.
For now, at least.
But sooner or later, I’d get another shot with my nieces.
I’m not going to go down without a fight.
I’d already lost most of my family.
I’m not about to lose them, too.
Exhaling slowly, I punch in my four-digit code and click on the unread message.
SHANE: See you at three.
A relieved laugh sputters past my lips, and some of the weight I’d been carrying around for the last three days lifts from my shoulders.
Shane isn’t cutting me out.
I haven’t messed this up after all.
But the tense air that had floated between us the other day still bothers me.
If Shane is worried that I’m somehow trying to infil
trate his family…
Well, I’ll just have to let him know I know exactly where I stand.
“I need to apologize.”
I freeze mid-lick, my tongue still plastered against the cookie dough ice cream cone in my hand. My eyes dart to where Shane sits next to me on a park bench, an amused expression on his face as he takes in my stunned appearance.
Slowly pulling my tongue back inside my mouth, I roll my lips together until they’re sucked between my teeth, and a loud laugh booms from Shane’s chest.
My brows shoot up, silently asking him what exactly is so funny.
“Sorry,” he says once he’s composed himself. “It’s just that you looked exactly like Gracie does when I catch her trying to sneak cookies before dinner.”
I chuckle, placing a hand to my chest. “Ah, a girl after my own heart.”
“Always did wonder where she got her sweet tooth from. Felicity wouldn’t be caught dead with anything fattening in her mouth, and though I enjoy a good dessert from time to time, it doesn’t exactly serve me well in my line of work to let myself indulge. I need to stay fit.”
My eyes do a quick assessment of his body. If you looked up the word fit in the dictionary, I’m pretty sure you’d find a picture of Shane Dempsey next to it.
Oh my God. He’s your dead sister’s husband, for Christ’s sake. Stop ogling him like you’re a fat kid and he’s a piece of cake.
Luckily, Shane doesn’t seem to notice my momentary lapse in judgment, his words pulling me from my inappropriate thoughts and back to what had originally caused me to stop enjoying my ice cream.
“So, about that apology…”
Right. Apology.
Wait, what?
“What could you possibly have to apologize for?” I ask.
He gives me a forced laugh. “You mean besides being a total dick to you at your sister’s funeral and then again at the house later that night?”
I wave him off. “Water under the bridge. I completely understand why you acted the way you did. It’s not like you really had a lot to go off of when it came to me.”
