Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
A s predicted by Derek, the shit storm I’d created was less than kind toward me. Personally, I couldn’t have given a fuck, because I felt compelled to be with my daughter. Circumstances had been difficult since Grace’s death, and until I had woken up knowing for the first time what to do, I had been in denial.
That fact had come as a revelation to me, and I had ignored all but Layla’s basic needs as her dad in the process. On the way back from the airport to home, I sat in the car Derek had sent to meet me and wondered if I’d used the band as an excuse not to get close to Layla.
Did I really do that? If I did, was it because she looked the spitting image of her mom or had I a deeper, more basic reason than that, such as me being scared to death of losing her too?
Admitting my fears about losing her sent a pang of shock to my chest. It took my breath away. I shook my head because the thought was incomprehensible. Surely God wouldn’t be so cruel as to rob me of both of my girls? Problem was, I had no trust in God anymore.
Even though I felt I had lost my faith, I defied myself by continuing to pray: for Layla’s safety, for strength, for guidance. The contradiction didn’t sit well with me because I was so pissed at the way Grace had died. I struggled with the concept of having someone I was supposed to believe in inflicting such misery and pain on people who had placed their trust in him.
I was still chewing over the hole in my beliefs when the driver pulled up to the heavy metal gates and I took the electronic remote from my carry-on. Pointing it at the metal barriers they clunked noisily before the wired buzzing sound signaled their parting.
Coming home used to give me a sense of relief, but ever since Grace had gone, the initial moment I caught sight of the house always filled my heart with sorrow. It sank instantly and a nauseous feeling rose up in my throat. Everywhere I looked I saw Grace: in the landscape, in the tub, the shower, by the dresser brushing out her long raven hair.
Mixed memories stirred strong emotions, both happy and sad. Images of the once vibrant, bubbly little beauty who lit up the room just by being in it, compared with the drained, exhausted skeletal frame robbed of her life by the ravaging disease that destroyed her.
Stepping out of the car, I stood staring up at the huge U-shaped, three-story building. It was the round attic room window that had sold us on the house as the romanticism of storing our family heirlooms in the attic overtook the practicalities of owning such a large property with such extensive grounds.
There were thousands of square feet of the house we never used. Matty and Stuart had a suite of rooms in the west wing, while Fred and Ramona, our maintenance man and housemaid lived off the premises. Peter and Diane, our landscapers and ground team lived in the East Wing. Harper had a suite of rooms next to Layla’s suite which included a playroom, bathroom, and bedroom. My bedroom was down the hall from Harper and Layla’s.
Opening the door, I stepped inside and closed it quietly behind me. The click of the latch sounded hollow as I glanced over to the sweeping staircase. The same staircase I’d carried Grace up two at a time the first night we’d moved in. I smiled at the memory of her surprised little face when I lifted her up and threw her over my shoulder because I couldn’t wait to get her into my bed.
Throwing her playfully in the center of the mattress, I had tickled her within an inch of her life, and if I thought about it hard enough, I swear I could still hear her laughing at times. I smiled sadly at the memory.
Since she’d gone, when I looked up in that direction, or I glanced around the wide imposing hallway, there was an ache in my heart that wouldn’t go away. All our dreams about filling our home full of babies and pets were now dust.
Inhaling sharply, I pulled myself up straight, realizing how low I’d slumped, and I wandered into the kitchen. Matty was kneading dough on a large wooden board and the smell of freshly cooked banana bread wafted intoxicatingly around the kitchen.
“Oh, you’re here!” she exclaimed, immediately abandoning the beige lump of uncooked whatever, wiping her hands on a cloth, and hurrying over in front of me.
“Where else would I be?” I countered.
“You’ll have to hug me if you don’t want that black button-down shirt covered in flour,” she joked with a welcoming smile.
Dipping to take her small frame in my arms, I squeezed her affectionately and let her go. Stepping back, I mirrored her smile. “Layla and Harper not back yet?”
Matty looked over her shoulder, already on her way back to the dough. Grabbing it in her hand she sprinkled flour from the shaker onto the board and began manipulating it by folding it in different directions.
“They’re with Jaden and Tom’s family. Cressida is a lovely woman and the boys are five and six years old, so around Layla’s age. Cressida is pregnant again, so I think inviting our guys over there is her way of keeping hers out of trouble. You know Harper, she’s got that schoolmarm look nailed and everyone behaves when she’s around.”
I chuckled at her description. It wasn’t something I’d personally seen from Harper, so I noted in my mind to look out for it.
“All right then, I guess if no one is here I’ll jump in the shower and grab a change of clothing,” I replied.
“Wait. I’m glad you’re home. Want to tell me how long it’s for this time?”
“Indefinitely. It’s time I gave my daughter my full attention. I blew the last three gigs… oh, that reminds me, can you ask William Martin to make a house call this evening on his way home?”
“You sick?” she enquired, her eyebrows shooting into her hairline as her shoulders shot to her ears at the mention of our family doctor.
“No, no, nothing like that. Relax. I just need a note to be written to get out of our contract. It’s for the promoters to give to the insurance company to bail everyone out.” I watched Matty visibly relax and nod.
“Thank the Lord. Right, I’ll be on it as soon as I get this bread in the oven. Go take your shower and take a nap. You look like shit… and have a shave,” she ordered as an afterthought.
Turning to look over my shoulder I smirked. She was right; I did look like shit. “Yes, Mom,” I replied sarcastically and was immediately hit on the back of the head with a small ball of dough.
“What the fuck was that for?” I asked, chuckling through the question.
“For being a smart-ass when I’m trying to pretend not to care too much,” she replied.
“You can pretend all you want, you know you love me,” I informed her, winking and dodging another dough ball. “And you can come and pick this shit off my polished floor in a hurry. If it marks it I’m deducting the cost of the polish out of your wages,” I added, as I took the stairs two at a time before I could gauge a reaction.
Having banter with Matty lightened my mood for a few minutes, but as soon as I opened my bedroom door, I swear Grace’s smell still lingered inside.
Immediately my heart felt heavy, the ache inside still raw with the constant reminders all around me. Harper and Matty had disposed of her clothing long ago, it was something I couldn’t face. I’d taken most of Grace’s personal effects: her driver’s license, passport, jewelry, and placed them all in my personal safety deposit box at the bank until such time when Layla was old enough to have them. So even though there was only a perfume bottle remaining of hers, Grace was still very much present in our bedroom.
Everywhere I looked she was there, because every stick of designer furniture, every luxury patterned fabric and the white throws on our bed, as well as every piece of wall art I saw, had been chosen by her .
Taking another deep breath, I tried to keep a handle on my depressed emotions as I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
Whether it was being home or the previous night’s lack of sleep I wasn’t sure, but I was suddenly tired to the bone and didn’t linger under the hot steaming water jets. Drying myself, I slid between my crisp cotton sheets and promptly fell asleep.
“Daddy. Daddy?” The small sweet voice broke into my slumber, but it was like music to my ears. Cracking an eye open I quickly rose to rest my head on my elbow when my tiny gorgeous girl stared me square in the eye, her size exactly the right height to place her head just above the deep spring mattress and level with my face.
“Ah, hey, my little beauty, how have you been?” I asked shifting position to sit up as I lifted her up onto my lap. I leaned back against the headboard, taking her with me, and her ear rested over my heart.
“Good,” she replied not moving.
“Good?” I enquired and waited for more, my hand automatically splaying the length of her body and tucking her little arm behind her.
“Yeah, apart from Jaden peeing in his mom’s huge flowery pot plant in the backyard and getting his tush smacked. His daddy told him he’d get jail time for getting his pee pee out in public.”
Conscious she was lying on me, I tried not to laugh because of how serious her tone was. “Oh, Baby, I don’t know if you should be hanging with boys that get their pee pees out,” I agreed.
Sitting up to look at me, she stared me straight in the eye, her huge gray expressive ones looking into mine like what she had to tell me was highly important. “It’s okay, Daddy. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that because Cressida, that’s his mom by the way, she told him if he did it again, she’d cut his wiener off. A wiener is a pee pee, right?” I nodded, too amused to speak in case I laughed.
“Well,” she started in an all-knowing way, the expression on her face almost making me bust she was so serious, “If I know Jaden Callahan, he won’t listen. His dad says he never listens. So I don’t think Jaden will have his pee pee much longer, because he keeps doing the stuff he’s told not to. ”
“Hmm, maybe I need to check out this Jaden for myself. What do you say we invite him and his family over for a cookout this Sunday?”
“Here? In this house?” she asked, her voice rising incredulously.
“Where else, Baby Girl? Of course it’ll be here.”
A frown creased her brow and she shook her head. “I’m not allowed kids over to play,” she argued, as a matter-of-fact.
“Since when?”
“Since Matty told Harper no kids because their mommies all wanted to get into your pants.” Right when Layla told me this; I heard Harper’s voice on the landing.
“Layla, you’re taking a very long time finding the hair clip jar,” she mused.
“She’s with me, Harper.” Hearing her approach, I called out again, “It’s okay, you can come in. I’m decent. Well as decent as a man can be naked in bed,” I added as she pushed open the door. I hadn’t meant anything by it, and I don’t even know why I mentioned the last part, but once I said it I had to own it.
“This little miss freaked me out by staring into my face while I was asleep, but you know what? I can’t think of a better sight to wake up to,” I admitted, looking at Layla as I spoke to Harper.
“I know, she’s a doll, isn’t she? Sometimes I feel I lucked out being able to care for her. She’s a treasure,” she added.
“And a pleasure. You told Cressida I was a pleasure to care for and that Daddy was amazing.”
Harper blushed crimson; the color not only reaching her cheeks, but also staining the skin on her neck a deep red.
“Thanks, Layla, but you should finish that sentence because I said he was an amazing dad.”
“Ouch, that burst my bubble. For a moment I thought you had designs on me, Harper.” As soon as my remark was out I wanted to punch myself in the head.
This was the twenty-six-year-old nanny to my motherless child and I had crossed the line with my inappropriate shit.
In all the time she had been with me, we’d enjoyed a relaxed relationship and I classed her as family. During all those years I never been remotely flirtatious or overstepped my position as her employer .
“Layla, let’s go downstairs and let your daddy get dressed. Matty has made the banana bread you begged her for this morning.” At the mention of Matty’s baking, Layla scooted off the bed.
Layla ran out the door faster than I knew her legs could carry her, her heavy little footsteps retreating into the distance. Glancing back at Harper, I caught her discomfort with my comment as she began to close my bedroom door.
“Thanks, Harper,” I mumbled, as the door closed softly behind her. “Fuck,” I cussed, banging my head back against the headboard in frustration. For a moment I sat stunned at what I’d done. Since the day I met Grace I’d never really flirted. yet my stupid fucked up mind had inadvertently done it with the one person I need the most.