by Becky Wade
Tonight would be better . . .
No. She’d vowed to herself. Vowed that she’d tell Addie when Addie asked. Carefully, she set her spoon in her bowl.
“How did you used to know him years ago?” Addie took a bite of cereal, milk dribbling off her spoon into her bowl. She wore her teal glasses, and Celia had already combed her hair and clipped it back on one side with a barrette. She had on a pink-and-green-striped Hanna Andersson play dress that Celia’d found at the secondhand clothing shop in town.
Without warning, emotion tightened Celia’s throat. Her baby. Her baby. She scooted her chair closer to Addie’s and held out her hands palms up.
Addie turned to face Celia so that the tips of their knees touched. She placed her little girl hands into Celia’s adult hands.
Celia looked down, remembering how she’d held those hands when they’d belonged to a newborn. They’d been the size of walnuts then, the fingers curled in tightly. She could still feel the way those baby fingers had clutched her index finger, with fierce need, as if Addie had understood just how much she depended on Celia’s care.
Celia remembered when those hands had belonged to a big-eyed, angel-faced toddler with two inch-long pigtails. Addie’s hands had been stubby and soft at that age, with dents for knuckles and nails that Celia had carefully clipped and sometimes painted pale pink with sparkles.
Over the years, Celia had held Addie’s hand whenever she’d needed shots. She’d held Addie’s hand each time she’d graduated to a new class at day care and they’d walked into the new room together, both of them uncertain about trusting the new teacher. She held Addie’s hand when they watched a movie together, when they went on nature walks, whenever Addie needed silent reassurance.
She’d held Addie’s hand every single day of Addie’s life, because she’d been here.
Every day. Keeping Addie safe from harm.
Where had Ty been?
He’s been exactly where you banished him, Celia.
And now that he’d come back, she found herself powerless to protect Addie from him. She could only hope that he would never do or say anything to damage her child.
When she met Addie’s gaze, a sheen of tears fuzzed her vision. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mommy.” Addie, ever intuitive, stared back at her somberly, a twist of worry in her expression.
“You asked how I knew Ty years ago.”
Addie nodded.
Briefly, Celia told her how they’d met in high school and then again a few years after college. “We . . .” She sought to breathe in air and courage. “We fell in love”—she had, anyway—“and we got married.”
Addie’s green eyes, the same color as Celia’s, went wide.
“Ty’s last name is Porter. The same as yours and mine. Ty Porter.”
She waited, giving Addie time to process. She didn’t know if Addie would be able to connect the dots with only that information or not.
“He’s my daddy.”
Smart Addie. Celia released a quivering exhale. “Yes.”
“I thought so.”
“You did? Why?”
“Because he’s what I dreamed my daddy would look like.”
Tenderness pierced Celia. She wanted to say, You can’t trust his looks, Addie. Unlike in fairy tales, handsome men aren’t always heroes.
“And,” Addie continued, “you lost your bracelet and he found you so he could give it back, Mom. Just like—”
“Prince Charming and Cinderella.”
“Yes.”
Again, the things Celia wanted to say jammed up inside her. He’s not Prince Charming! Don’t be foolish like I was and fall for his dumb grin and his sparkling eyes and his stupidly perfect body. Instead, she asked, “Do you have any questions for me?”
Addie thought it over while the smell of coffee hung in the air. Outside, a car engine started as someone prepared to leave for work.
“Where does he live?” Addie asked.
“He lives in a town called Holley in Texas. But he travels a lot. He’s a bull rider.”
“A what?”
“A bull rider, which means he rides on bulls . . . you know, big cows? With horns? He rides them in rodeos.” This was another thing that would mean nothing to Addie since she’d never been to a rodeo. “And he competes against other men to see, um, who can stay on the longest and who rides them the best.” Her words sounded ridiculous to her, which was Ty’s fault for having such a ridiculous career. He was a grown man who regularly climbed on top of huge unbroken animals. No one should be able to earn a living doing something so farfetched.
“And he doesn’t live here with us because you didn’t get along good?”
Within the last year, Addie had asked a few times about her father. Celia reiterated now what she’d tried to articulate then. “Right. We didn’t get along very well . . . after our wedding. That’s why I live here, and he lives other places.”
“Why didn’t he ever come see me?”
Celia swallowed. “He would have, except he . . . he didn’t know that you were his daughter until yesterday.”
Addie’s forehead furrowed with concern.
Celia would never want Addie to think that Ty hadn’t been involved in her life because he didn’t care about her, so even if Addie got angry with her, she needed to try to get this part right. “This is hard to explain, but after you were born, I loved you so much that I wanted to take care of you all by myself. You know how it’s hard to share sometimes?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it was hard for me to share you with Ty.”
“But you always tell me to share.”
“Right. That’s why I think I made a mistake. I should have told Ty about you. He wanted to be here for you. He wanted to know you.”
Addie weighed Celia’s words.
“I’m sorry,” Celia said softly and with painful honesty. She’d taught Addie to say she was sorry, and Celia tried to practice what she preached. “Can you forgive me?”
Addie regarded her with all the goodness contained in her young heart. “Yes, Mommy.”
“Thank you.” Celia pulled her into a hug and pressed a kiss onto the top of her head.
“Does he want to see me now?” Addie asked quietly.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Very soon.”
“Is he mad at you?”
“He’s a little bit mad.”
“Do you think he’ll forgive you?”
“Yes, I think he will.” Truthfully, though, she had no such expectation.
Two hours later, Celia received a text from Ty while at work.
I’ve arranged the paternity testing. It only involves a cheek swab. Can you take Addie in and have it done today?
She didn’t have a car. But she did have several sweet co-workers who’d probably let her borrow their car during her lunch break. Yes, she wrote back. I think so.
He replied with the address of a medical office in town.
Celia couldn’t tell Addie that her father required a DNA test to prove his paternity because he didn’t trust her mother. Instead, she decided she’d use words like routine test, formality, and required by our health insurance company to explain the cheek swab to Addie. So long as needles weren’t involved, she fully expected Addie to shrug and go along with the test, none the wiser. Kids were accustomed to not understanding things.
Three days after the cheek swab, Celia received another text from Ty.
Test results came back. Addie is my daughter. May I pick her up tomorrow morning?
Celia had zero intention of allowing Ty to take off with her child. For a full minute, she tapped her heel against the floor beneath her desk and tried to decide how to reply.
She finally settled on the truth, phrased politely in hopes that he wouldn’t threaten lawyers again. I think Addie will feel more comfortable if the two of you spend time together at our house with me present.
Tonight? he texted back.
Celia grimaced. How about tomorrow evening?
Tomorrow won’t work for me. How about tonight at seven?
Fine. Addie, at least, would be happy. She’d been asking Celia questions about Ty nonstop all week.
Do you want to tell Addie the news? he asked.
Already have, she replied.
Ty stood on Celia’s doorstep that night, certain he looked like an idiot. He was a first-time father to a child he didn’t know, holding a box wrapped in shiny pink paper.
He knocked twice, then glanced down at the package. He’d decided to buy Addie a gift a few days ago, just in case the test results came out the way Celia had told him they would. Since he hadn’t trusted the local stores to carry what he wanted in the right brand, he’d called Cavender’s and asked the lady on the phone what size to buy. He’d had the present shipped overnight to his hotel and paid the girl at the gift shop to wrap it for him. She’d put a really curly silly-looking purple bow on top.
Celia answered the door wearing one of her stretchy headbands, cut-off jean shorts, a loose top falling off one shoulder, lots of bracelets, one anklet, and bare feet. “Come on in.”
The apartment smelled like baked chicken tonight and glowed with bright color and light. Every lamp had been turned on, even though sunset was still more than an hour away.
Addie stood next to the end of the sofa, her hands behind her back. Her attention bounced off his face and down to her feet, which were stuck into a pair of pink slippers. She had on a green dress and tights.
“Hi,” Ty said.
“Hello,” she said to her toes.
“How’ve you been?”
She mumbled something.
“Addie.” Celia spoke in the tone used by all mothers. “Ty has asked you a question. Can you look up and answer him?”
Obediently, Addie raised her face. She focused on empty space near his elbow. “I’ve been fine.”
“Good.”
Celia was watching Addie intently, biting her lip. It made Ty uncomfortable. “It’s nice out.” He spotted their backyard. “Would you like to sit outside with me, Addie?”
A pause. She nodded.
She’d been less shy around him the day they’d met, but he understood. It was one thing for a kid to talk with a stranger. Another to talk with a stranger who was also, suddenly, her father.
He led the way toward the backyard. Celia hurried over and opened the sliding glass door for them. Ty motioned for Addie to go before him. When Celia attempted to follow them out, he gave her a warning look.
She scowled and set her chin.
He jerked his head toward where he wanted her to go, back inside the house. What’d she think he was going to do? Throw Addie over his shoulder, climb the fence, and kidnap her?
Celia didn’t budge.
Ty met Celia’s gaze, full force, letting her read his determination.
After a brief staring contest, Celia moved indoors. Instead of closing the glass slider, however, she simply closed the screen before walking into the kitchen.
Ty had spent the last few days examining his emotions about this whole thing. He was upset with Celia. But over the years he’d learned to treat even the angriest and most annoying women in a friendly manner. From Sacramento to New York City and back, year after year, he’d perfected the art of getting along well with women. He’d assumed he’d be able to handle Celia tonight.
Wrong. He’d been around her for sixty seconds, and he already wanted to throttle her. And also provoke her. And also, for some reason, kiss the side of her neck . . . which was a problem.
He sat on the step next to Addie. Not too close; didn’t want to freak her out. “This is for you.” He passed over the box.
“Thank you.” She looked unsure what to do with it.
“You can open it.”
Carefully, slowly, she tore off the paper and set it aside, then lifted the lid. “Oooh.”
“Do you like them?”
“Yes. Should I, um, save them or put them on?”
She spoke so quietly, she tested his hearing. “Whichever you want.”
Addie tugged off her slippers. Thanks to the tights, her feet slid right into the pair of pink cowgirl boots he’d bought her. The boots had black soles, pointed toes, and three flowers stitched onto their sides with red thread.
He motioned toward them. “They’re supposed to light up.”
Sure enough, as soon as she rocked some of her weight forward onto them, the star in the center of the middle flower flashed.
Seeing her in pink cowgirl boots caused something inside Ty to soften almost painfully. His own boots were planted on the ground just inches from her much smaller ones.
She looked up at him sideways. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled.
She smiled back, her mouth curving gently.
There were two things in life he knew. Bull riding and females. Addie was, although miniature, a female. Good Lord willing, he hoped that in time he could win her heart. “If you decide later you don’t like them or want another style or something, you can return them, okay? It won’t hurt my feelings.”
“No.” Her green eyes were earnest behind her glasses. “I like them.”
“Where I’m from, in Texas, a lot of us wear boots. Even kids. I grew up wearing them.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. They’re pretty comfortable. And they’re good for walking through a field or riding horses.”
“I’d like to ride horses.”
“Now that you’ve got boots, you’re all set. Back home in Holley, I have some horses you can ride.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe . . . maybe my mom and I can move to Holley? And then I could ride your horses all the time.”
“I’d like that.” He found it was true. “I’ll talk to your mom about it.”
“She’d love to live in Holley.”
He almost laughed because he knew Celia would be dead set against the idea.
“Mommy’s nice. And she’s real, real pretty.” She searched his face hopefully. “Don’t you think?”
Ah. A matchmaker. “Yep.”
“She said you ride bulls.”
“Yeah. Funny job, isn’t it?”
She studied him with curiosity, nodded.
“I’m going to be riding tomorrow night in Colorado. It’ll be on TV if you want to watch it.”
“Okay.” Her eyebrows lowered. “Does that mean you’re leaving?”
“I wish I could stay longer, but months ago I told the people I work for that I’d be in Colorado. And after that, Idaho. And after that, Montana. But if you don’t mind, I’ll call you on the phone every night while I’m gone.”
“I don’t mind.”
“They have this thing on the computer that lets you look at the person you’re talking to on the screen. We could talk like that sometimes.”
“’Kay.”
He took her in from head to toe, trying to believe that the child sitting beside him was his daughter. Scientific lab tests had proven it beyond a shadow of a doubt. One night in Vegas had done it. “Did your mom tell you about me? Who I am?”
She dipped her chin.
“I’m real glad that I’m your dad.”
Her attention darted to the space next to his elbow again.
“I’m sorry I didn’t know about you sooner, Addie.”
“Mommy told me that she didn’t tell you ’cause it was hard to share. She’s sorry about that now. She thinks she made a big mistake.”
Interesting. He didn’t know if Celia had actually said those things or if, like Addie’s statement that Celia would love to live in Holley, Addie had just invented the reality she wanted. “I wish I’d known you when you were a baby,” he said. “When you were littler.”
She shrugged. “I couldn’t do much then anyway.”
“Well, I’m here now, and I’d like to get to know you.”
“Uh-huh.
”
“And I’d also like to help you if I can. Is there anything I can do for you? Anything you need?” He wasn’t above buying her toys, and lots of them. Like maybe one of those kid-size electric jeeps? Except where was she going to ride it? Celia’s backyard was flowery—it reminded him of a field trip he’d taken as a kid to the Dallas Arboretum—but it was no bigger than a sneeze. Sitting here was like sitting inside a green fuzzy closet.
“There is one thing,” Addie said, “that I kind of need.”
“Yes?”
“A car. Ours broke down.”
He’d been thinking of a child’s car just now, but he suspected Addie was talking about the real thing. “I saw your mom driving a car with wood paneling on the side last weekend.”
“That’s Uncle Danny’s car. Our car was white and” —she wrinkled her nose— “really old.”
“I see.”
“When it broke, Uncle Danny told Mommy that we could drive his car. I told her we should, but she said no because it wouldn’t be nice to take Uncle Danny’s car away.”
“Is your white car in the shop getting fixed?”
“I don’t think so. I think it costs too much money to fix it, so now we have to take the bus.”
He frowned. Even though he had some issues with Celia, it brought him no pleasure to learn that she couldn’t afford to fix her car. And one thing was as certain as the grave: He did not want his child or his child’s mother having to take the bus. “You need a car.”
Her gaze asked him to prove that she could trust him. “Yes.”
He’d just learned two important things about Addie. One, the way to her heart was through her mother. Two, it looked like the kid had inherited something from him after all. Like him, she wasn’t afraid to go after what she wanted. “I’ll have a car here for you and your mom by tomorrow afternoon.”
Hope lifted her expression.
“I promise you.” He extended a hand. “Shake on it?”
She put her hand in his, and they shook. Ty grinned at her, and Addie grinned back, a dimple in one of her cheeks.
