Not Our Daughter

Two

Cole Shipley smiled at his wife and teenage daughter, who sat across the picnic table from him. Both were laughing hysterically while sharing a giant blue cotton-candy-flavored ice cream cup covered in pink sprinkles. His daughter had ice cream smeared on her nose, and she was trying to do the same to her mother. But Lisa kept playfully swatting her spoon away. His wife had never looked more attractive to him. She’d aged much more gracefully than he had. Shoulder-length brown hair, green eyes with only a few wrinkles, fit as could be since she ran the mountain trails every day. Although in her forties, Lisa could still easily pass for twenty-nine, in his opinion. Not that he was in bad shape. The trails and ski slopes of Colorado had also been good to him over the years. He was fitter now than when they’d married nearly twenty years ago. It was hard to believe it had been that long. They’d been through so much together. They’d survived so much together, was a better way to put it. But today was all about Jade, who was celebrating her fourteenth birthday. In many ways, Jade looked like her mother—long brown hair, bluish-green eyes, bright smile—but none of this came from shared genetics. It had become more difficult to conceal the truth as she grew into a beautiful young woman and kept wanting to compare her facial features to her mom’s and dad’s.

But they could never tell her. For her own safety.

“Are you sure you don’t want some, Dad?” Jade asked, holding out the ice cream.

He laughed. “And risk getting attacked? No, thanks.”

“Your loss. It’s delicious.”

They were sitting next to Miyauchi’s Snack Bar, staring out over Grand Lake, Colorado’s largest and deepest natural lake. Kids on the sandy beach played in and out of the water. Families were renting Jet Skis and boats at a marina just up the way. Many others were out walking along Lake Avenue and enjoying the shops. It was a beautiful summer Saturday in Colorado. They’d made it an annual tradition to drive over from Winter Park every year on Jade’s birthday. It was always lunch at the Historic Rapids Lodge, which sat alongside a flowing water inlet, followed by ice cream at Miyauchi’s next to the lake. They’d been doing it for years, and Jade still seemed to enjoy every minute of the experience. He knew that might change as she grew older and became more independent. But he hoped not. He didn’t want his little girl to grow up. He always wanted to be nearby to protect her, in more ways than one. He was already having nightmares at the thought of Jade moving away for college in a few years.

“Do you want to rent Jet Skis?” he asked.

Jade scrunched up her face. “Not this year. My back is kind of hurting today.”

He nodded, pressing his lips together. For the past few months, every time his daughter said something like that, it felt like a dagger to his heart. But that was going to change starting today. “Everything will be better soon. I promise.”

She tilted her head. “How?”

He’d been waiting all day to share this exciting news.

“We’re finally going to be able to move forward with the surgery. I’m calling the doctor first thing on Monday morning to get it scheduled.”

Jade smiled wide. “Really?”

He matched her smile. “Yes, really. Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

Jade immediately slid off the bench, came around the table, and hugged him tightly. Cole noticed Lisa tilt her head at him with narrowed eyes, but she didn’t say anything in the moment. He knew that discussion was coming. Jade had been a competitive cheerleader for years. From an early age, she could tumble and do back tucks with ease. She’d quickly become a star at their local gymnastics gym. But she also had a severe case of scoliosis. It wasn’t obvious with her clothes on. She could hide it well—other than when she wanted to wear a bikini on the lake. Despite their ongoing efforts to deter it, the curve in her spine had gotten much worse this past year as she hit a serious growth spurt. With that growth had come major discomfort. There were nights when his daughter could barely fall asleep because she was in so much pain. It had caused her to pull out of cheer a few months ago.

They’d met with a specialist, who’d recommended spinal fusion surgery. The surgeon felt like he could get her back up and going again, pain-free, in a couple of months. But because they had crappy health insurance, they hadn’t been able to schedule the surgery yet. It’d been horrible watching his daughter deal with not only the physical pain but the emotional anguish that came with stepping away from her love of cheer. So Cole had done what he had to do this morning to rectify the situation.

All smiles, Jade bounced away from the picnic table to go to the restroom.

Alone, Lisa gave him another stare. “You accessed the account?”

He nodded. “This morning. What choice do we have, Lisa? Just sit here and let our daughter suffer? I’m done waiting on the insurance company. They may never approve it.”

“Yeah. It’s just . . . risky.”

“We talked about this last week. You said it was ultimately my decision.”

He’d grappled with the decision every second of every day for the past week.

“I know. It just stirs up the emotions.”

“I really do think we’re safe by now. Besides, did you see the look on her face? That was the happiest I’ve seen her in months.”

Lisa looked over toward the restroom. “You’re right. She really needs this. So much of her joy is wrapped up in her cheer life. Just scares me, that’s all.”

“Eventually, we must stop living in fear—and just live. It’s been over thirteen years.”

“That’s easier said than done.”

Jade returned. They got up and walked down a path by the water and up to the beach. Jade and Lisa both took their sandals off, stepped into the sand, and moved down to the water. Their sundresses allowed them to wade in without getting their clothes wet. Cole watched them hold hands as they moved into the lake up to their knees. He knew the water was freezing cold. They were both making faces that told him it was nearly insufferable. But they were also laughing about it. He took a moment to fully take in the two of them. His girls. He would do anything for them. He would sacrifice everything for them. He already had. And no matter how overwhelmingly challenging that was, he hadn’t regretted it for a single moment.

A child squealing loudly across the way grabbed his attention. Cole turned around. A little boy was not happy about his snack and was letting his mom know all about it. Then something else caught Cole’s attention, just to the left of the crying child. There was a man holding a camera with a long lens positioned slightly behind a cluster of trees. The guy looked out of place wearing black slacks, a white long-sleeved button-down, and black dress shoes. He was probably in his early thirties, with close-cropped brown hair. Cole squinted. Was the camera lens pointed straight at him? He took a quick glance around, trying to see if there were others who might have the guy’s attention. But there was no one. When Cole turned back, the guy was already walking away down the sidewalk. Cole watched him for a moment. About ten steps down, the guy stopped again and aimed the camera out toward the water. Then he kept on walking, stopping to grab more shots here and there.

Cole exhaled, not even realizing until that moment he’d been holding his breath. It was just some random guy. Cole had just told Lisa they had to stop living in fear. But was it even possible? For most of his adult life, he’d been watching over his shoulder. And he had to admit that accessing the account today had put him slightly on edge. He had no way of knowing if anyone had ever connected him with the offshore accounts. He’d created two accounts under two different names on the day they left Austin. Eight years ago, he’d tapped into one of the accounts when they’d needed money to buy their current house. Nothing came of that. No one showed up at their door flashing badges. And now they were several more years down the road. Were they even really looking for them anymore? He kept watchful eyes on the guy with the camera until the man finally walked around a building and disappeared entirely.

It was probably nothing.