by Jill Kemerer
Stephanie buzzed him in, and, with jittery nerves, he climbed the stairs to her door.
Tonight was the night. They were telling Macy.
God, give me the right words. We’re about to change this little girl’s world, and I don’t want to scare her. Open her heart to me. Please, Lord, make this easy on her.
He inhaled. Exhaled. Knocked on the door.
Stephanie opened it, and his mind blanked. Stunning. The chocolate-brown sweaterdress hugged her waist and dropped over her hips, revealing brown tights and tall boots. Her hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, and her lips were darker red than normal. He met her gaze—as terrified as his.
She blinked rapidly. “Come in. Why don’t you sit at the table while I get Macy?”
Macy flew down the hallway, her arms wide. “Tom!”
He put the present on the floor, caught her and boosted her in the air, choking up at this unexpected display of affection. “Hey, munchkin, how are you tonight?” He set her on her feet.
“I’m good. Do you like my dress?” She swayed this way and that, the purple skirt swishing around her knees. “Mommy said tonight is special, so I wore my fancy dress.”
“I love it. You look magnificent.”
“What’s that?” She pointed at the present he’d set on the floor.
He grinned. “It’s for you, but your mom and I want to talk to you before you open it.”
A frown crossed her face, but she quickly brightened. “Is it a cash register? I’ve always wanted one of those.”
Tom met Stephanie’s twinkling gaze over Macy’s head. She shrugged. He made a mental note to add a cash register to his Christmas list.
“Let’s sit down.” Stephanie herded them to the table.
He’d stopped by three times since their heated lunch meeting, and they’d settled into a truce. He’d made himself a promise not to bring up the past anymore. Not the bad parts, at least. Prayed each night about it, too. So far, he’d succeeded. And he’d been enjoying her company. In fact, he grew more impressed with her each hour they spent together. Stephanie was a terrific mother—loving, nurturing and not afraid to discipline.
They’d also agreed on a schedule with Macy and taken the steps necessary for him to have joint custody. His lawyer was hammering out the child support arrangement. The friend of the court papers had been filed.
Thanksgiving was two days away—the day they had agreed to introduce her to his family. He couldn’t wait. But first he and Stephanie had to be honest with Macy, and he’d asked Stephanie to take the lead.
“Macy, I told you tonight is special, but I haven’t explained why.” Stephanie folded her hands and rested them on the table. “I have something to tell you. It’s why I asked Tom to come over.”
Macy’s eyes grew round, and a smile spread on her face. “Are you getting married?”
Tom did a double take. He hadn’t been prepared for that question.
“No,” Stephanie sputtered. “No, that’s not it.”
“Oh.” Her face fell.
“You know Tom is an old friend of mine, right?”
Macy nodded.
“Well, he’s more than an old friend. He used to be my husband, a long time ago.”
“He did?” Macy’s eyelashes curled up to her eyebrows. “Why isn’t he now?”
Tom said a silent thank-you that Stephanie was handling this conversation, because he wouldn’t know where to start.
“That isn’t important.” Stephanie shot him a helpless look. “Look at Tom’s eyes, Macy. What do you see?”
“Blue. Just like mine!” Her face beamed again.
“That’s right. Just like yours. Do you know why? Because Tom gave you those eyes.”
Macy scrunched her nose. “No, he didn’t. You can’t give eyes away.”
At Stephanie’s nervous laugh, Tom decided it was his turn to enter the conversation. “What your mom is trying to tell you, Macy, is you have my eyes because I’m your dad.”
Her little jaw fell to her chest, and he could practically see the thoughts spinning in her mind.
“You’re my dad?” she asked, her tone awestruck.
He nodded and smiled. “Yes, I am.”
“Why didn’t I have a dad before now, Mommy?” She turned her attention to Stephanie.
“Because Tom and I broke up before you were born, and he didn’t know about you.” Her face strained as she said the words. A pang of pity touched Tom’s heart. God, I need to forgive her, don’t I?
“But he knows me now, so I get a daddy, right?” The hope and anticipation lighting Macy’s face filled Tom with love. Her reaction was everything he’d wanted and more.
“That’s right, Macy,” he said. “I’ve always wanted a daughter exactly like you. I’m very, very happy you’re my little girl.” He kneeled before her, and she fell into his arms, wrapping her tiny hands around his neck.
“Can I call you Daddy?”
“I’d love that.” He kissed her baby-soft cheek.
“Are you going to live here now?” She pressed her hands against his face.
“No, princess. I have my own home.”
“But...” Her arms dropped to her sides. “But mommies and daddies live together.”
Stephanie joined them, running her hand down Macy’s hair. “Not always, baby. Sometimes they live apart.”
“But how will I see you?” Her lips trembled and tears pooled in her eyes.
“I’m going to visit you every week, and you’re going to stay with me sometimes on weekends.”
“Without Mommy?” Her voice broke.
He fought against the ache pinching his soul. “Just you and me. But did you know you have a whole bunch of aunts and uncles?” He lightened his tone.
“I don’t want to stay without Mommy.”
“I know this is new to you, so maybe you could come over to my house with your mom until you’re ready to stay by yourself. Does that sound better?”
She nodded. “Can I open the present?”
“Yes, you can open the present.” He straightened and walked to the door where he’d left the package. He carried it to the couch. Macy and Stephanie joined him.
Macy ripped open the paper, then lifted the cover off the box. “What is it?”
“What do you think it is?”
“It’s a pirate box.”
“Close. It’s a treasure chest.” He pointed to the lid. “Open it up.” He caught Stephanie’s questioning glance and winked.
Macy opened the lid of the hinged wooden box and gasped, her hands covering her mouth. “Look at all the presents!”
She pulled out strands of sparkly beads, pretend diamond rings, a tiara, a star-shaped wand and a pen with a pink poof on the end. Then she lifted two wrapped presents. The first one was a children’s Bible. She clutched it to her chest. The second was a framed picture of them taken at Chuck E. Cheese’s. The frame said, “Me and My Dad.”
“You’re my treasure, Princess Macy.”
Her face glowed, and she hugged him again. Then she ran over to Stephanie, the Bible in one hand, the frame in the other. “Thank you for my daddy, Mommy! Look at my book! Look at my fancy crown!”
“Wonderful,” she said in a chipper tone. “How nice. Did you thank Tom—I mean, your dad?”
“Thank you, Daddy!” She smacked a big kiss on his cheek. Not shy at all. “I can’t wait to tell Grandpa I have a daddy!”
“Well, you’ll see him tomorrow night,” Stephanie said. “He’s staying with us until Sunday. And you’re going to meet some more of your new family in a few days at Thanksgiving, too. Right, Tom?”
“That’s right. In fact, you have another grandpa.”
“No. I only have one grandpa.” Her chin rose, and h
er stubborn tone came on.
Tom scrambled to come up with a solution. “Would you be willing to have another grandfather, like a papa?”
“A papa?” She lifted two sets of beads over her head. “What’s that?”
“Since you already have a grandpa,” he said, “maybe when you’re ready, you could call your other grandfather Papa?”
“Okay.” She dug into the treasure chest again, lifting all the plastic rings, bracelets and hair accessories out and shoving them on her body. “But I don’t want no mean old papa.”
Stephanie chuckled. “What makes you think he’d be mean?”
“No one is as nice as my grandpa.”
“Your new papa is very nice, but whatever you say, Macy.” Stephanie shook her head. “I’ll get some drinks and snacks for us.” She left the room.
“Come here a minute and bring your Bible.” Tom sat on the couch and gestured for her to join him. Macy brought it over and hopped onto his lap. “Today is special to me, and I want it to be special for you, too.”
She stared into his eyes, her face open, expectant.
“I’m thankful, and David, a man who lived way back before Jesus was born, was thankful, too. Do you know what he did to show his thankfulness?”
She shook her head no and snuggled into his arms. He almost closed his eyes at the beauty of it.
“He thanked God. The Bible says he praised God with thanksgiving and song. We’re going to read part of this book together whenever you stay with me. Would you like that?”
“Yay!” She clapped. “Let’s read some now.”
“Okay. How about we start at David’s story.”
As she leaned her cheek against his arm and chest, he savored the sensation of her trust. Macy asked about Goliath and what kind of name Bathsheba was. He chuckled, trying to answer her as best he could. Reading the story, it struck him how imperfect David was, yet God forgave him. Faith. A funny thing.
Tom handed the book back to Macy. Lord, You forgave David. I’m no better, and neither is Stephanie. If You can forgive murder, I can forgive a lie.
Peace spread from his heart, expanding, filling the pockets of guilt he’d kept open too long. And forgiveness wasn’t hard. Not at all.
* * *
“So how did it go last night?”
Stephanie blew across the top of her coffee at the Water Street Coffee Joint, her favorite café in town. Bea rummaged through her purse on the table topped with colorful mosaic tiles. Light filled the space from the abundance of windows, and the sage-green paint contrasted cheerfully with the exposed brick wall. The place was packed. Stephanie let out a pleased sigh that the dentist office closed a day early for Thanksgiving. A day off—without classes or work—was what she needed, although she did feel guilty for sending Macy to day care.
“Honestly, Bea, last night surpassed my highest expectation. Macy adores Tom and is already calling him Daddy. She took it in stride, but—” Stephanie frowned “—she did ask if we were getting married and if we were all going to live together.”
“Ah, the innocence of a four-year-old.” Bea applied lip balm, tossed the tube in her purse and cupped her hands around her hot tea. “And you worked out the custody arrangement?”
“Yes. It wasn’t complicated. We’re waiting to talk to a friend of the court. When the judge signs off on it, everything will be legal.”
College students and professionals ambled past the windows, some stopping to come inside. The air where they breathed poofed visible clouds.
“Sounds like Tom handled things maturely. I hear so many stories of revenge and backstabbing, to see you two working together is refreshing.”
Stephanie propped her elbows on the table and held her cup close to her mouth. “We’ve both matured. So far, he puts Macy’s needs before his own.”
“What about yours?” Bea dunked her tea bag twice before taking it out of the mug and setting it on a napkin. “Are you sensing any payback?”
She shook her head. “He asked me to consider local graduate programs.”
“Really? How do you feel about that?”
“Not surprised he asked.” She set her cup down. “But I had it all planned. Sunshine, warm weather, help with Macy—I don’t want to give it up. I miss my dad. No offense, but before I told Tom about Macy, there wasn’t anything keeping me here.”
“I hear you, but you’d better get used to it. You’ll be sharing big decisions with Tom for years to come.”
The weight of the statement sank to the bottom of Stephanie’s stomach. “Sharing big decisions, giving up control—I don’t know if I can do it.”
“Why?”
“I gave up control when we got married. And I hated who I became.”
Bea broke off a chunk of a cookie and offered it to her. “Want a piece?” Stephanie shook her head. Bea popped it into her own mouth. “So this ex-husband of yours is domineering. Made you do things his way, huh?”
“No, I wouldn’t call him domineering. Driven, maybe.”
“He told you what to do.”
“Not that, either.”
“What am I missing?” Bea drummed her fingernails against the table. “Why did you give up control?”
Stephanie stared straight ahead but didn’t focus. The past came back in the form of impressions, feelings, regrets. “He didn’t control me, Bea. I gave up on myself.” She sipped her coffee. “I think a part of me went into our marriage for all the wrong reasons.”
“It’s common.” She nodded, her gaze understanding.
“College at the time was such a struggle. My grades were terrible, but my roommates got As without studying. I kept up with them by going to parties and having fun, but deep down I knew I should be sitting at a desk, doing homework. A part of me worried it wouldn’t matter—I wasn’t smart enough even if I did study nonstop. After we got engaged, I didn’t want to deal with it anymore—the worry, the anxiety—so I quit.”
“Do you think marrying Tom was a way out for you?”
“Yeah, I do. Not having to keep up with school? A huge relief.”
Bea broke off another cookie piece. “You were young. What did you do all day? Did you get a job?”
She warmed her hands around the mug. “No. I should have. I had too much time on my hands. I always thought not working, not going to school, having unlimited free time would be liberating—the ideal. But it wasn’t. Not at all. It was boring and lonely.”
“So I’m assuming Tom worked and wasn’t around during the day.”
“Or at night. His dad handed him the reins of one of the family car dealerships, and he had something to prove.”
“I’m guessing you were a little depressed,” Bea said. “Do you still see yourself as that girl?”
“Goodness, no!”
“Are you afraid you’ll use Tom as a crutch now that he’s back in your life? If the custody arrangement works and Macy gets a father out of the deal, would it be so terrible to stay here a few more years?”
Yes. It would be terrible. But not for the reasons Bea was suggesting. The more Stephanie saw Tom and Macy together, the more she respected him. And the more she respected him, the more attractive he became. She’d been fascinated by him since the day they met. Attraction led to things like not moving to Florida. Or deciding her master’s degree could wait. Taking the easy way out.
Or even scarier things.
Like love.
Love couldn’t happen. Not with Tom. Not again. Because he was making this relationship work for Macy’s sake. Not for hers.
“I told him I’d think about staying. I didn’t make any promises.” She took another drink, more than ready for a change in subject. “Did your turkey thaw out? When did you say Mark and Shelby are coming?”
They chitchatted about holiday pl
ans, dinner preparations and upcoming chores.
“Are you nervous about spending the afternoon with Tom’s family tomorrow?” Bea asked as they stood to put their coats on.
“Definitely. I know they’ll hold a grudge against me. I have no idea how they’ll react to Macy.”
“Let me know how it goes. You can call anytime—even during dinner tomorrow. If you need me, just call.”
Stephanie wrapped Bea into a hug. “Thanks. It’s nice to have you on my side.”
* * *
Tom scanned the last invoice, stacked it on top of the others, grabbed his coat and headed to the door. Almost seven o’clock. One hour’s worth of work always seemed to take two. Didn’t leave much time for running tonight. And with the amount of food he’d be eating tomorrow at Thanksgiving dinner, he’d be smart to run an extra mile.
He steered his truck onto Ridge Road. Hard to believe the sun had already gone down. Another sign winter had arrived.
Making a right turn, he passed Mrs. Matthews’s two-story house with windows glowing like watchful eyes. She’d been his Sunday school teacher. His big mouth, lack of patience and habit for mischief had earned him her extra attention. She’d set him straight many a time with a simple glower, the look that said, “If your mama was alive, she’d be disappointed.”
His mom, with her exuberant laugh, quick temper and constant hugs, had died when he was ten. The doctors had delivered Libby safely, but his mom suffered a postpartum hemorrhage. She didn’t survive the birth. The loss of her would always sting.
I still miss you, Ma.
The most important women in his life left him. He couldn’t prevent one from going. No stopping death. But the other?
His mind drifted back to a moment—must have been early spring, the tulips were out. With a stack of procedure manuals under one arm, he’d unlocked the door to the apartment and stepped inside, another late night trying to make sense of a complicated business. Music greeted him, one of those slow sappy songs Stephanie loved. She danced into the living room, stopping when she saw him. Her face had radiated joy. Giving him an impish smile, she’d taken his hand and tugged. “Come on, let’s dance.”
