by Jill Kemerer
But this...a child...changed everything.
He closed his eyes. Emotions drained him empty like at the end of a tough workout. And now he had to walk in there and meet his daughter without letting her know who he was. He’d almost called his sister Claire earlier. She knew how to handle these situations. She’d be able to tell him if Stephanie was being reasonable or manipulative. But if he called Claire, he’d have to explain...and he was not ready to tell anyone in his large family he was a father. He might not ever be ready.
God, help me out here? I don’t know what to say. I’ve barely been around kids, and now I’m meeting mine for the first time. What if I mess up? What if I scare her? Maybe Stephanie was right not to tell Macy I’m her dad yet.
Another minute ticked by before he got the nerve to hop out of his truck. Shoving his keys into the pocket of his jeans, he straightened his long-sleeved black T-shirt. He could do this, meet Macy without intimidating her.
Inside, he scanned the busy restaurant to find Stephanie. Typical fast-food sounds surrounded him—the beeps of the registers, the muted chatter of customers waiting in line and the occasional shout of a kid. The place smelled like French fries. His heartbeat paused at the sight of Stephanie sitting next to the little girl with dark brown waves flowing down her back. The child didn’t look up until he stopped at their table.
“Thanks for joining us.” Stephanie’s tone was pleasant, assertive, but she couldn’t mask the uncertainty in her eyes. “Macy, this is an old friend of mine, Tom.”
The girl’s tiny face with creamy skin and raspberry lips stole his breath. Even prettier than her picture. Her faded-blue-jean eyes matched his exactly. It took everything in him not to swoop her up and crush her to him. He knew in an instant he would do anything—anything—for this little girl.
“Hi, Macy. How’s your arm?” He gestured to the black sling and sat across from her at the table. His knee bounced triple time.
“It doesn’t hurt. I don’t need this anymore.” She started ripping the Velcro from her sling, but Stephanie placed her hand over it.
“The doctor said you have to wear it for a few weeks.”
Macy pushed her bottom lip out. “It’s ’noying, Mama.”
“I know. But it’s there for your wrist to heal.”
She grimaced, dunking a chicken nugget into barbecue sauce before taking a nibble. Stephanie’s gaze darted here and there like a wild rabbit’s, and the silence stretched to uncomfortable proportions.
What now? He had no idea what to say to either of them. Didn’t have much experience with kids. Or ex-wives. If he had known—
He could have what? Prepared? Yeah, right.
“Did you want something to eat?” Stephanie’s smile was tight around the edges.
The bruises couldn’t hide her delicate bone structure, the rich brown of her eyes. Her hair was a little shorter than he remembered, but just as dark and shiny. He’d been so caught up in the revelation of having a daughter, he’d barely registered Stephanie until this moment.
“Uh.” He hadn’t eaten since lunch, but he wasn’t hungry, either. “I’m not sure.”
Macy cupped her hand around her mouth as she whispered loudly to Stephanie. “Why is he here if he’s not eating?” Stephanie gave him a pointed look.
What an idiot. Here he was, a strange guy showing up at their meal and not ordering anything. Even a kid knew it was fishy. No wonder Stephanie worried.
“Maybe I’ll get a salad.” He rapped his knuckles on the table.
“Are you sure about that, mister?” Macy frowned. “Salad has lettuce and tomatoes in it. My grandpa always gets a cheeseburger when he comes here.”
He grinned. “I like cheeseburgers and fries, too, but I have to eat healthy.”
“Why?”
“I’m training for a triathlon.”
She munched on a fry. “What’s a...tri...what’d you call it?”
“A triathlon. It’s called the IRONMAN competition.”
“Noah has an Iron Man backpack. Do you get a red suit, too?” Her hopeful expression made him want to tell her yes, he’d be the real Iron Man when he crossed the finish line. But he shook his head.
“No, it’s not that kind of Iron Man. It’s where a bunch of people swim, ride their bikes and run. It’s a race.”
“I have to use training wheels. Tatum has pink sparkly streamers on her bike, but mine doesn’t have any.” The pitiful look she gave her mother almost made Tom chuckle. Cute. He could get used to her matter-of-fact tone and still-developing pronunciation. No, he would get used to it.
“You’re blessed to have a bike at all, Macy.” Stephanie pointed to the Happy Meal. “Keep eating those nuggets.”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Do you like swimming, Macy? I live right next to a big lake. My brothers and dad and I go fishing all summer.”
Stephanie’s wary glance speared him, but he kept his attention on Macy.
“My grandpa and I make sand castles at the beach. But Mommy and I moved to a ’partment.” She sipped her chocolate milk. “I’m going to tell Noah about the race. He takes swim lessons, but he’s too scared to jump off the board. Do you think if he jumps in the pool, he could be the Iron Man, too?”
Tom nodded. “Sure. When he gets older. Anyone who finishes the race is an Iron Man.”
“You silly pants, there’s only one.” She wiggled her finger, and her face lit up.
Stephanie ran her hand over Macy’s hair. “The IRONMAN Tom’s talking about isn’t what you’re thinking.”
Best to let Stephanie explain. He went to the register, waited for the salad, then slid back into his seat.
“I’m going to kin-dee-garden when I’m five.” She held out five splayed fingers with her free hand.
“Wow, kindergarten.”
Macy continued, “I can count real high.”
“How high?” He tore the packet of dressing open and watched her out of the corner of his eye.
“Real high. One, two, three...”
When she got to forty-five, Stephanie touched her arm. “Okay, we got it. You’re a good counter.”
“I can go higher,” she said.
“Honey, I have no doubt you could count to a million if you put your mind to it, but we need to finish up dinner and head back home. I have a paper to complete.” Stephanie raised the jacket from the back of her chair and draped it over Macy’s shoulders.
Tom covered his half-eaten salad. What now? Did Stephanie plan on leaving without giving him her contact information? She didn’t think she could just show up, tell him about their daughter and expect life to continue as if nothing happened, did she? This was his child, and whether she liked it or not, he wasn’t disappearing, nor was he going to pretend he was an old friend for long.
“Before I forget, here.” Stephanie slipped him a piece of paper. “My cell number and home phone. After seven is best. I work and go to school. It gets crazy around dinnertime.” She wrangled Macy’s arm into the jacket but couldn’t quite cover the sling. Then she smiled. “Thanks, Tom, for...everything.”
“I’ll be in touch.” He stood, holding his hand out to Macy. “Nice to meet you.”
She took his hand. “Nice to meet you, too.”
“Till next time.” And he left. In the cool air, his exhilaration and nerves about the meeting seeped out like a leaky tire.
He’d missed more than four years of her life.
He unlocked his truck, got in, raised his gaze to the ceiling and rubbed his jaw.
Macy. Macy Sheffield. He closed his eyes, recalling her sweet face. If only he had a picture of her. What had she looked like as a baby? How had she been? Fussy? No, of course not. Not his darling.
He started the truck, his thoughts racing as the engine rumbled to life. He’d missed her first
tooth. First steps. First words.
Were there any firsts left? Had he missed them all?
Checking his mirrors, he backed out of the spot. He wasn’t missing any more of her life. But what would Macy need him for? Nothing came to mind.
What about the streamers? The pink sparkly streamers. Yeah. And piggyback rides. And ice cream. Every kid liked ice cream. He’d let her pretend to drive the cars in the showroom. Owning two auto dealerships had its perks. Take her to baseball games and buy her Barbies and protect her from boys.
He’d be the best dad ever.
And someday he might be able to forgive Stephanie for keeping her from him.
Chapter Two
Stephanie made it home without the expected questions about Tom, mainly by distracting Macy with a Disney CD. Nothing like princesses singing movie tunes to buy a little quiet time. As first meetings went, Stephanie would give tonight five stars. No awkward questions, no heated words, just a man and a little girl getting to know each other. She’d made the right decision to tell Tom about Macy.
After giving Macy a quick bath and getting her into her turtle pajamas, Stephanie sat next to her on the couch and drew a soft purple throw over them both.
“How’s my kitten?” She pulled Macy into her arms.
“I’m not a kitty.” Macy giggled, snuggling closer.
“You’re not? But you’re cute as a kitten. And you purr, right?”
“Prrr...” Macy pretended to lick the back of her hand.
Stephanie’s mind wandered. Seeing Tom brought it all back—how much she’d admired him when she was a twenty-year-old college student. How amazed she’d been that gorgeous, could-have-any-girl Tom Sheffield even noticed her. Twenty-five and with a business degree had made him more alluring. He’d made her feel special, pretty, like someone better than ordinary old her. Six months later when they got married, he promptly quit his dead-end job to join the family business. She soon learned work always came first.
“Is Tom your boyfriend?” Macy curled their fingers together.
The questions had begun. Stephanie stroked Macy’s hair and inhaled the scent of fruity shampoo, so innocent and sweet. “No, no, nothing like that. We were friends a long time ago. He heard we were in an accident and wanted to make sure we were okay.”
“Oh. Why didn’t Grandpa come?”
“Grandpa didn’t know. Remember, he’s in Florida now.”
“I miss him. Let’s go see him.”
“That’s the plan, toots. Less than a year and we’ll be living with Grandpa again. We can go to the beach every day. No snow. No cold. Just sunshine.”
“Yay! I can’t wait to live with Grandpa again.”
“I know. I can’t, either.” As soon as she finished her degree, she and Macy were moving back in with her dad. They’d lived with him in Petoskey until last year when he retired and bought a condo in Miami. She and Macy almost joined him, but Western University offered her a full scholarship only available to single mothers, and the University of Miami wouldn’t give her any financial aid.
Dad had offered to pay, but he couldn’t afford expensive tuition on his fixed income. Besides, Stephanie had foolishly thought she needed to be independent, that it would be good for her to raise Macy on her own.
She hadn’t realized how difficult it would be.
Things would be easier in Miami. She could build a nice life there. Dad would help watch Macy while she worked toward her master’s degree.
Except she’d made the plans before she’d factored Tom into her future...
Macy yawned, and Stephanie hummed. Maybe Macy would fall asleep early. Stacks of folders, books and binders waited on the dining table.
She was tired of homework. And the rush, rush of each day. Get up, shower, slap some makeup on, get Macy dressed, throw a bagel in the toaster, race to day care, then to work. Classes three afternoons. Pick Macy up, stop at the store and spend fifteen minutes trying to figure out dinner, read a picture book, homework, guilt trip about not playing dolls and pass out in bed.
Stephanie closed her eyes a moment. Her life hadn’t always been this hectic. The first months of marriage had been downright leisurely. She’d quit college right after getting engaged. With no real career goals and a low GPA from dropped classes, there didn’t seem to be much point. And she’d had Tom to provide for her.
Ambitious. Driven.
But he’d been tender, protective and...
Absent.
No. No. No.
Pointless to entertain these feelings. Better to focus on the present.
Macy’s breaths came in even intervals, so Stephanie carried her to the bedroom, tucked her in and plodded back to the dining room. Her ribs started aching again.
What to tackle first? The spreadsheet or the research paper? She pressed her fingers against her side, pulled a chair out, propped her elbows on the table and let her chin fall to her cradled hands. Who could focus on a stupid report after seeing him? The man she’d loved, the one she’d vowed to spend the rest of her life with. For better or for worse.
She’d been such a fool at twenty-one. If she had poured her energy into Tom instead of—well, she didn’t want to think about it—maybe she wouldn’t have had to spend the previous years alone, broke and exhausted.
But then there was the God factor. Maybe being at her lowest had finally allowed her to put her hope in Him. How many times had she read in Romans that God works for the good of those who love Him? And how many times did she have to remind herself she didn’t have to earn His goodness? It was there for her simply because she trusted in Jesus as her Savior.
With the Lord’s help, she’d create a future worthy of Macy.
Now that Tom was in the picture, how would their lives be affected? She hadn’t been sure he’d want to be a father—a real father—to Macy. But he obviously did. Could she count on him to be involved in Macy’s life, or would he come and go as it suited him?
He’d stood Stephanie up for countless dates during their brief marriage. How many meals had she eaten alone? When she married Tom, she’d never guessed he’d treat her the way her own mother did—unimportant. An accessory to his life.
It hurt. She squeezed her eyes shut. Still hurt.
If Tom wanted to be a father, he’d better commit all the way. If he broke Macy’s heart...
She was getting ahead of herself. She didn’t know his plans. Besides, Macy deserved to know who her dad was. But how should they break the news to her? And when?
* * *
“What do you mean you have a daughter?” Dad stopped pacing and spun to face Tom.
“What I said. I have a daughter.” Tom extended his arm across the back of the tan couch. He’d called Dad and driven straight to Granddad’s cottage from McDonald’s. “Imagine how I felt coming home from my run and finding Stephanie, all bruised up, on my porch.”
“A car accident, you said? She’s okay?”
“Yeah.”
Dad shook his head slowly, opened his mouth to speak, shut it and snapped his attention to Tom. “I’m a grandfather.”
“You sure are.”
“I have a granddaughter.” Wonder filled his tone. Tom nodded, completely understanding his father’s reaction. “Before I get too ahead of myself, Tommy, we need to consider a few things. I don’t know how to put this...but given what you told us about...well, you know, how can you be sure the girl is yours?”
“I’m sure. Stephanie didn’t cheat on me. I refused to believe her back then, told myself she wanted a future with that other guy, but I was wrong.” Tom crossed to the large picture window with its endless views of the lake lined with evergreens. The familiar landscape of his childhood grounded him. Filled him with resolve he’d lacked earlier. “Macy looks just like me. Undeniable. The eyes. She’s mine
.”
“She’s got the Sheffield eyes? Imagine that.” Dad jingled his key ring. His Carhartt jacket, faded baggy jeans and work boots gave him the appearance of a man in his early fifties, not his midsixties. Even his thick silver hair didn’t age him. The man projected energy in motion at all times. “How old did you say she was?”
“Four.” Tom wiped his hand over the back of his neck. The rawness of his discovery had choked him up off and on for the past hour.
“I’m sorry, Tommy. This must be hard to take in. Are you happy about it? At all?”
The concern in his eyes strangled Tom’s throat even more. He coughed. “Yeah, Dad, I’m happy. I mean, a daughter—my daughter. It’s...hard to describe. When I looked at her face and saw how small and cute she was, all I wanted to do was pick her up, buy her the contents of a toy store and protect her from everything that could hurt her. I can’t explain. It was instant.”
“Good. That’s the way it’s meant to be.” Dad nodded. “What did you say her name was?”
“Macy.”
“Macy.” Dad tilted his head to the side. “You know she needs you, right? She needs her father.”
“I know.” The revelations had worn him out, and Tom returned to the couch, his legs splaying and his neck falling back against the cushions. “I still can’t believe Stephanie kept this from me.”
“I can’t, either.” Dad perched on the arm of the chair.
“How could she?” The loss of time with Macy hit him again. “How could she not tell me? I’ve been walking around in a daze all these years when I could have been spending time with my daughter.”
All the wasted weekends, the boring nights, the hours at work—the aimless battery inside him that could have been sparked. If only he’d known.
“It’s hard to understand. It will be harder to forgive.”
Tom let out a dry laugh. “Forgive her? I can’t. This is—”
“The hardest thing you’ll have to do.” Dad leveled the you-know-I’m-right stare he’d perfected years ago. Tom shifted his jaw but listened. “I’m not saying forgiveness has to happen immediately, but anger and bitterness won’t help Macy. Take my advice and give this to God as soon as possible or it will eat you alive.”
