With This Child...

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“At church.”

“She went alone?” For a fleeting moment, she felt guilty that, because of her, Kyla had to go to church without her father. Without Sam, she corrected herself.

“No, with a friend.”

A friend? Marcie’s heartbeat skipped erratically, remembering Kyla’s flippant comment about being grown up and dating and making Sam a grandfather. Had she completely missed her daughter’s childhood?

“A girlfriend?” She choked out the question.

He scowled. “Of course a girlfriend. What did you think? She’s only twelve.”

Marcie felt heat rise to her face... embarrassment that she knew so little about her daughter, relief at Sam’s words, and irritation at his tone, his superior knowledge of her daughter.

The waitress returned with thick mugs filled with steaming coffee.

Marcie sipped desperately, her attention fixed on the black liquid, a welcome distraction from the man sitting across from her. She wasn’t doing this well. She needed to lead the conversation and the decision of what to do next, to ensure that things turned out right this time.

“What do you want?” Sam suddenly demanded, snatching from her any last vestige of control over the situation.

She looked up from her coffee, refusing to back down from the anger in his dark gaze. “To be a part of my daughter’s life. To be her mother.”

“You want to take Kyla away from me.”

The statement fell between them like a weight.

“I told you, I don’t,” Marcie said. “To be honest, I wish I could. I wish I could turn back the clock and take her from you before you ever held her in your arms. But I can’t do that. I’ve lost almost thirteen years of my daughter’s life. I’ll never see her take her first step or hear her first word. I won’t get to play Santa Claus for her or hide Easter eggs. There’s no way I can ever get any of that back.”

Sam’s eyes darkened even more as she spoke. He wrapped big, capable hands around his coffee cup. His knuckles stood out white against his tan. The tendons bulged all the way up his forearms. For a moment, she thought he might crush the thick mug.

“If there were any way for me to take back my daughter without hurting her,” she went on, “I’d do it. If I had any evidence that you were a bad parent, I’d do my damnedest to get her away from you. But as far as I can tell, you’re a loving father, and she’s happy. And more than I want to have her with me, I want her to be happy.”

She’d faced that reality already, but putting it into words, hearing herself admit that she’d never really have her daughter, filled her with a bleak sense of loss.

It was all well and good for Dr. Franklin to beat his breast and repent his actions, but the past couldn’t be undone. She and Kyla were the ones who had to live with the results of those actions.

She and Kyla and Sam.

She looked down at the table, swallowed hard, picked up a spoon, then laid it back down.