Splinter of Hope

by Jody Kaye

  I place two grandes in the cupholder and Kimber immediately goes after hers. “What did I do right to deserve you?”

  “Everything.” I remind her as if it’s a joke. “Absolutely everything.”

  Kimber’s fingertips play in my hair. Her forehead wrinkles as she tries not to frown. I lean in to kiss her before she can argue and turn a lighthearted moment on its ass. She needs as many of these as I can give her.

  “Sterlings,” I say with confidence, guiding the wheel across town to the upscale store.

  A clerk in a deep-toned suit and tie takes the time to wipe any smudges from the frame before presenting it to Kimber for inspection. Each year she’s gotten the same gift. A four-by-six silver picture frame engraved with the birthday girl’s age. The swirling script this year reads: eighteen.

  She pulls it to her chest and closes her eyes. Normally, I’d stand behind Kimber to be her rock. Today, I place a warm hand on her lower back. The reassurance is what she needs to flip the frame over, open the back, and unzip her purse. From an envelope, she pulls a time-worn picture and inserts it behind the glass.

  I snag her wrist as she places it back into the box.

  My breath leaves my body and there is an eerie stillness to the air. It’s as if the other customers and clerks in the store move about while we’re stuck in suspended animation. I draw Kimber’s arm toward me, holding the frame closer to me for a clearer look.

  She stares at the picture too, afraid of what she might see in my eyes. If the past four years have taught me anything, it’s that Kimber’s made of thicker stock. She steels herself and glances up. If I’d chosen now to condemn her, then she’s better off without me.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look more beautiful.” From the shimmer in her eyes, I can tell Kimber understands I mean it.

  “What I would have given to hear a man say those words to me on the day the picture was taken.” She confesses, for the first time opening up to me about an old wound.

  The clerk re-shines, re-boxes, and gift wraps the frame with pink wrapping and an organdy bow. The oval Sterling’s sticker brings back my comment about having the finer things in life. I hope the birthday girl understands why Kimber bought it at this store.

  Of course she can, I reassure myself. She’s eighteen, about to graduate high school, and go on to college. Doubting her intelligence would be like doubting Kimber’s determination.

  Back in Carver’s car, we drive without directions from Kimber or the GPS. I park on the opposite side of the street from the house, cut the engine, and leave the blower on to keep me cool.

  “I can call for an U—”

  “I insist on waiting right here.” I cross my arms so she can’t fight. There’s no use. She’d lose anyway. This has been where I’ve stayed each year while she’s at the party. I’ll never ask to go in. She’s never asked permission to bring me along. This part of her life has had to remain separate or the gaping hole wouldn’t have healed at all.

  “Kimber! You’re here.” Aidy flings the front door open and is running from the front porch toward me as soon as I step foot out of the car. Her arms wrap around my neck. I move her gift out of the way, hugging her back. We sink together, holding on for the same slim second extra that I’d held her in my arms on the day she was born.

  “I wouldn't miss today for anything, Dumplin’.” It’s true. I’ve been through hell and high water to be here.

  “Did you always call me that?” She’s whispered the same words ever since she was old enough to understand who I was.

  “From the very beginning,” I rub her back so she knows how much she’s always been cherished. My fingertips play between her long, poker-straight, red strands of hair cascade down. Aidy came into this world bald as a ping-pong ball, leaving me wondering what she’d look like.

  While I couldn’t name my daughter, I could call her something special. As soon as my belly began rising she became my Dumplin’.

  I grab her hands, hold them wide, and look at the reflection of an eighteen-year-old me. Sure, the shape of her eyes is the same as his were, and she got stuck with his mismatched earlobes—one’s attached, the other isn’t. But the rest? That’s my baby. He didn’t want her, so I get to claim every other feature Aidy has.

  “I think you’re more of a biscuit since you’re all grown up now.” I joke, cautiously.

  Aidy laughs, glancing at her form.

  “Never.” I wink. “You’re far too slim. Besides,” I spin for her. “What you see is what you’ll get.”

  My family is slender right up until sixty-something. I may not have been kind to the years, but the years have been kind to me. I’m not ready to freak out about how my torso will change, and I certainly don’t want Aidy concerned about her body image. Lord knows I deal with female self-consciousness enough at Sweet Caroline’s when the dancers complain they are bloated.

  “I like this top.” She compliments me.

  I say a small thanks, grateful I’ll fit in with the rest of the guests. It’s hard to be myself and someone’s biological mother. I’d worry less about Aidy’s impression of me had I raised her.

  “Hey, you’re right on time.” A strong hand grips my shoulder.

  “Hi, Don.” I give a sheepish smile to Aidy’s dad. “I’ll only stick around a bit.”

  “You feed us the same line each year, Kimber. But you stay. And we’re glad you do.”

  “My turn.” Ghillie, Aidy’s mom, steps in. She clasps my cheeks and we stare at one another. Her blue eyes water. Ghillie has short black hair and, oddly enough, the freckles Aidy and I don’t have despite being gingers. I’ve always been acutely aware that Ghillie’s not me. Yet, she’s the only mother my daughter has ever known.

  “We did it.” Ghillie’s gracious reaction to today is how I was positive she was the one for Aidy. The person to take my place and love her like nobody else. I’m not certain I could have been strong enough to live with the ghost of my child’s birth mother lingering throughout her childhood. Let alone find the kindness to include them.

  “The credit goes to you and Don! You were the parents there every day, not me.”

  I cried losing her, but my daughter grew up in suburbia surrounded by people who wanted her. I couldn’t have given Aidy half the opportunities Don and Ghillie did. Child protective services probably would have taken Aidy away from me anyhow. Her first chance with them was the best chance at a better life.

  “You forget, the three of us wouldn’t be standing here at all if it weren’t for you, Kimber. I wouldn’t be her mom if it—Thank you.” She chokes.

  I use the back of my hand to wipe the tears streaming down my cheeks. “Ghillie, we’re both going to be a wreck if we can’t keep the waterworks at bay for another few hours.”

  “Oh.” She fans her face. “Let everyone look. Let ‘em say we’re being sentimental fools. Aidy is eighteen today. We’re allowed to be proud and cry happy tears.” Ghillie spies the pink box I’m holding. “Would you like me to take that?”

  “Uh, yes. But I have to warn you: It’s different this year.”

  “She loves the pictures of you when you were her age, Kimber. They sit with her trophies and awards. Sharing this part of you with her…Well, those frames are some of Aidy’s most prized possessions.”

  “Thank you for saying that. I still need to tell you; she’s in this one. I mean, not as a baby. It was taken right before she was born. I don’t want you to think I’d want her to— ”

  Ghillie touches my arm. “I’ll put it in Aidy’s room and open it with her tonight.”

  I do my best impression of a wallflower watching Aidy with her friends. She’s so happy and carefree. Not at all how I was at her age. I ended my senior year of high school in the maternity ward. Now, I worry that I should have given her the picture of us right after she was born instead. It’s selfish of me to keep the sole copy I have.

  A few of her aunts and uncles who are here know who I am. None of them are rude to me. We
talk around my connection with the family as if it doesn’t exist. This is Aidy’s special day, and Don and Ghillie’s as well. I won’t ruin it by drawing unwanted attention to myself. I enjoy getting caught up listening to conversations about what Aidy has done over the past year. The itty-bitty insights into her life make me feel like I know her better than I do.

  A neighbor whom I’ve never met has been chasing a toddler around the house. She finally gives up, puts her hands on her hips, and talks to me about her little boy. Aidy is his babysitter.

  “We’re going to miss her so much when she goes off to Pinewood State.” She glances at her son who has planted himself in Aidy’s lap while she chats with her girlfriends. “Friday nights won’t be the same. Do you have any kids, Kimber?”

  The woman returns her gaze to me and recognition flashes across her face.

  “No,” I reply in a flat tone, unwilling to reveal more about myself than is necessary to a stranger.

  I swirl my sweet tea, wishing it was brewed from beans instead of leaves, and watching the ice melt. I stopped lying to myself around this time last year. I’d like a family of my own. A little house. A second chance. But I only want those things if Trig is part of the equation. We’re open about everything but Aidy. I’m not sure how to tell him how I feel without bringing this situation into the mix. I also haven’t been completely truthful with him. Deep down I’m frightened if I do, then the silly belief things will work out for us isn’t true.

  The conversation with the neighbor becomes awkward. She ducks out, interested in getting the little boy home for a nap, though, I doubt the child needs one.

  The next hour ticks by at an agonizing pace. All of a sudden, no matter who speaks to me, I’m the odd-woman out. I’d like to find a quiet corner to cry in and a hot cup of coffee to do it in.

  Toward the end of the afternoon, the candles on Aidy’s cake are lit. Everyone in the room begins singing. Ghillie holds back Aidy’s hair. It’s the same shade as the flames. Don is about to snap a picture and Aidy beckons me over to stand by her side before bending to blow them out.

  “You belong with Ghillie.” I take the camera from him so that he’ll take the place next to Aidy.

  “Only if the next snapshot is of Aidy with you.” He shuffles behind the dining room table.

  I press the shutter so it goes off several times in succession. Then I lay the camera on the table and scoot out of the room before anyone can switch places. There’s only one picture of me with my daughter, and it’s the one I keep.

  A knock on the window has me cracking an eye. I’ve been minding my own business for the past three hours while Kimber’s been at the party. I’d scrolled my feed and returned a few calls. Then, deciding—after a long night of making love to my woman and knowing she’ll need me to take care of her and do the same this evening—it was in my best interest to get twenty winks. I’ve been relaxing against the buttery leather of Carver’s car. The heated seat massages my back and cool air flowing from the air conditioner floats over me. It’s like being down at the Crystal Coast on a clear day with the breeze blowing off the ocean while the hot sand radiates through your beach towel.

  The tapping on the glass has me prepared to choke whatever idiot thinks they can piss at me for loitering. It’s a public street, not a no-parking zone. I’m channeling a decent amount of Zen. However, there’s also a part of me that’s anxious, ready to beat up any stupid fucker who tries to insinuate I’m here to case the neighborhood. Little do they know I have the cash to pay off the mortgages of every goddamn house on the cul-de-sac flat out. I’d give Kimber the pick of the litter. Hell, she could have one for each day.

  Lost in thought, I’m as shocked at the grin spreading across my face as anyone. Kimber’s standing in the grass, wiggling her fingers. She has on a tentative smile. The softness of her gaze, though, like I’m the one person who can make everything she’s feeling all better, has a sunny warmth spreading to my chest.

  I unlock the doors and roll down the window in a smooth motion.

  “Party over, My Love?”

  “I’m all set to go. Thank you for waiting. I didn’t mean to stay the whole time.” Every year she apologizes without need.

  I’d never deny her those few hours with her daughter. In fact, I’d drive her here and nap by the curve every weekend, if Don and Ghillie allowed Kimber to see Aidy the way divorced parents shared joint custody. I’m no fool. It doesn’t work like that with adoption. But if I have one wish for Kimber—outside of the things I want with her—it’s now that Aidy’s come of age and able to make her own choices, they’ll form a friendship.

  Kimber walks around the hood of the car, getting in the passenger side, and buckling up. She folds her hands in her lap, sighing, and pursing her lips. It’s not unusual for Kimber to stare out the window unspeaking while we drive home. I let her have her space. She’s aware of the tears falling down her cheeks. I don’t tell her she’s crying or ask her why.

  But unlike every other year, before I can put the sedan into gear, her hands fly to her face and Kimber crumbles. She’s used up her stoic strength. Eighteen years of putting on a brave front is enough for her.

  “I wanted her so much, Trig,” Kimber confesses.

  I pull her as close to me as the center console will allow, stroking her long red hair. It may be different between a parent and child, but I understand the desire to keep someone in your life. This is the first time Kimber has ever acknowledged to me that Aidy is her daughter. I’ve respected her privacy and won’t push her for details, even though as soon as Kimber opened her mouth, I was flooded with the need to know the full story.

  I’m forced to admit the way she’s relied on me isn’t enough. It’s time for her to stop carrying this burden alone. If I am her man, I’m the one she should rely on when it’s too hard to go on anymore. The weight of her pain I will gladly bear.

  “He didn’t want her at all. I was a teenager, on my own as soon as my mother found out, with no future. I had nothing to give a baby. I could hardly feed myself, let alone her.”

  Kimber pulls away. I sense her closing up. The admission is overwhelming. She licks her dry lower lip and I wipe her tears away with my thumbs. More spring up in their place. The outlandish concern that I’d think less of her overshadows her need to continue.

  “Don’t be scared. There’s nothing you can say that will ever change the way I feel about you. You could climb out of this car, slamming the door behind you, and never look back, and my sorry ass will pine for you, My Love.” I brush a lock of hair behind her ear. “All your strength and devotion keeps my world from tumbling off its axis. I don’t thank you near as much as I should for making me a good man… Or at least making me feel like I am one.”

  “I owe you the truth,” Kimber says, her obligations to the past a debt that’s paid.

  “You don’t owe me shit. I may want to know, but it doesn’t mean the rest of your story is mine for the taking.”

  “I’m ready to tell it.”

  “Want to go someplace more private?” There are other guests leaving Don and Ghillie’s, heading to their cars.

  “I might lose my nerve.”

  Nobody has more backbone than Kimber. But I’m not taking the chance. I settle back in the seat, letting her drive the conversation.

  Trig presses a kiss to my fingertips. He sits back in the seat. Carver’s gorgeous car contrasts my ugly tale about how I got stuck watching a precious baby girl grow up from a distance.

  The man I love holds my hand. His willingness to let me lay my truths at his feet is scary as hell. But somehow I’m assured he won’t stomp on them, leaving my heart splintered the way Aidy’s father had.

  My pulse pounds in my ear. I’ve gone over every memory in my head a million times. I’ve thought of telling Trig a thousand of those.

  “He was just a boy, and I was just a girl. We met at school. He took me on dates and to the prom. It was normal. I believed him when he said he loved me. There was no
reason not to. I won’t tell you it was a lie to get in my pants. At that age, all you know of love is what you’re experiencing. I don’t doubt he cared, nor do I discount when he found out I was pregnant that he was as scared as I was. Whatever love he had for me got lost in his fear. He left, leaving the rest up to me.” The eighteen-year-old who still lives deep inside thirty-six-year-old me shrugs.

  “All I had was a fast food job. It wasn’t enough to live on or afford…” My voice trails. There were times I’d thought the mental anguish of not having my baby at all would have been better for me than letting her go. That didn’t happen until after she’d been born and I’d already made a very final choice.

  Trig’s steel eyes bore into mine. He knows what I’m thinking. “No judgment. Not even if you’d made a different choice from the get-go.”

  The confidence he has in me makes it easier to go on.

  “Ghillie and Don went to the same church we did. I’d never met them, but she was so pretty, and the way Don seemed captivated by her made them stand out. They didn’t have kids, which didn’t make sense to me. The nurse at the clinic I was going to gave me some brochures. When I got the nerve to call one of the adoption counselors, I was shocked to find their profile in the albums at the center’s offices.”

  The events come out backward. Trig doesn’t seem to mind the way I connect the dots.

  “They’d been on the list a long time. ‘Forever’ Ghillie said when I let them know I’d chosen her and Don to be my baby’s parents. They were okay with an open adoption. I wanted to be in Aidy’s life and thought this way I’d be assured she was safe and have pictures of her growing up.

  “But toward the end of my pregnancy, I wasn’t mature enough to handle it. I told Ghillie in no uncertain terms she couldn’t be there when Aidy was born. It had to be her and me. I didn’t want anyone else ruining the moment. We originally agreed they could come get her right afterward, but I forced them to wait until I left the hospital so I had more time with my baby.”