Chapter 29
Cooper
I’ve texted and called Rebekah twenty times, and every single call goes to voicemail or text remains unanswered. I shouldn’t be surprised because I should have expected all of this. Yet, I hoped for more.
Tilting my head back and forth, I try to relieve the knots in my neck. I’m keeping it together for Naomi. She doesn’t need anymore of the unknown or the confusion. She’s seven, and she sees plenty, but that doesn’t mean she fully understands what’s happening.
It’s been one day since sleepover-gate and she seems okay. We got up this morning, got to work, and she happily ran off with Aunt Dixie to do their thing.
Maybe her seven-year-old mind chalked it up to a rough day and bounced back. We’ve had bad days before, and after a good night’s rest, she was fine. Kids are resilient, so maybe we made it through mostly unscathed.
***
I was wrong.
Naomi wanted to make cookies because she’s still on her baking kick, so I thought it would be a good idea, get her mind off of things and help us spend time together.
Instead, we did the wrong measurements from the recipe I found online. We ran out of chocolate chips, and then Naomi spilled the entire bowl all over the floor, and she promptly burst into tears.
Now she’s standing in the flour all over the floor and sobbing.
I tilt my head back, take a deep breath and lift her out of the flour, and grab the broom and dustpan.
“Naomi, it’s okay. Accidents happen,” I say, sweeping the flour into a pile.
“But,” she stutters. “I — wanted — cookies — and now — we can’t — have them,” she says barely breathing between her sobs and words.
I pour the dustpan into the trash and get the excess off the floor. I’ve learned as a parent there is a fine line between comfort and learning lessons.
It’s been a rough couple of days, but this strikes me as a lesson moment. Things happen; accidents are called accidents for a reason, and she needs to learn that.
Hanging the broom and dustpan up, I grab the vacuum to get the rest, and she’s standing in the corner watching me. She’s managed to stop crying, but her little chest is still trying to catch her breath.
After I vacuum the rest, we go to her room to get some fresh, non-flour covered socks. She sits on the bed, and I find her favorite pink pair and pull them on her feet.
Her head sags, and she holds her hands in her lap.
“Naomi.”
She won’t look up, and I kneel down, tipping her chin up so she can look me in the eye.
“It’s okay, princess, it was an accident, and accidents happen.”
She nods, and then it hits me. This happened with Rebekah.
“Naomi, I want you to understand I’m not mad at you. You did nothing wrong.”
“You’re not?” she asks.
I hug my little girl and kiss her on the head. “No, my sweet girl.”
She doesn’t answer and reaches for the ends of my hair. “I love you, Naomi Hayes.”
She takes a stuttered breath. “I love you too, Daddy.”
Pulling back, she stares up at me with glittering eyes. “How about we watch a movie tonight? I’ll make popcorn.”
Naomi perks up at that. “Ratatouille?” she asks.
Why she loves a movie about a rat cooking in a kitchen, I’ll never understand. “Sure, princess, sounds good. Get your PJs on and meet me in the living room.”
Naomi hops off her bed and runs to her dresser.
I start the popcorn on the stove and lean against the counter, waiting for it to heat. Life is full of bumps in the road, but I feel like I put the bump in our road in the form of Rebekah, by letting her into Naomi’s life. She wasn’t ready, and neither was Naomi, and that falls on me.
***
I had hope for today, but it started with Naomi waking up on the wrong side of the bed.
She didn’t want to get up at all, and I hadn’t made arrangements for her earlier.
She couldn’t find her favorite boots. She didn’t want to eat her snack before we left, and she refused to brush her teeth or brush her hair — great start.
When I finished up for the day, I head back to the main house to find Naomi with her nose in the corner and Aunt Dixie looking at me with an exasperated look on her face.
“Naomi, that nose stays in the corner until I say so, understand?” Aunt Dixie says from the kitchen.
“Yes,” she mumbles.
Aunt Dixie is leaning against the kitchen counter with her arms crossed, and she looks spent.
The guilt eats at me, and my chest twinges.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into her, but she didn’t listen at all. She barely ate. She’s been a pistol today.”
I sigh and drop into a chair.
“Little girls have lousy days, sometimes weeks. I know this, but this is not like her, Cooper.”
I drag a hand across my face.
“I know, I think it’s what happened with Rebekah,” I mumble.
She nods. “I figured it was.”
“I’m trying to keep us on our schedule and talk to her about it. We talked the night it happened, but I think I need to sit her down again.”
“I’ll get some ice cream scooped, go talk to her now,” Aunt Dixie says.
“What? Come on, I’m tired, you’re tired, she’s tired. Maybe it should wait.”
“Coop, if I’ve learned anything about raising kids, it’s addressing it as soon as you can. Don’t let it build in their little hearts. She doesn’t understand how to sort her emotions right now, and we need to be an example.”
My eyes drop from hers. Then I’m doing a terrible job of that, and I need to do better.
“Alright,” I sigh, and trudge into the living room.
“Your timeout is up, missy,” Aunt Dixie calls from the kitchen.
Naomi spins around and gives me those pleading eyes. “Come here, Naomi.”
Her head drops, and she slowly walks over to me on the couch as if she’s about to meet her fate.
“Naomi, you know I love you, right?”
She pouts, her lower lip puffed out.
“I know what happened with Rebekah was hard, it was scary, and you didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I should have been, and I’m sorry.”
She doesn’t respond, focusing on her feet.
“We need to talk about this. I know you told me when it happened, but I’m worried about you.”
Naomi lifts her hand and pats her heart.
“I know it hurts, princess, so you need to tell me what you’re feeling.”
Her lower lip wobbles and she bursts into tears. “My mommy doesn’t love me, and I made her mad, and she left.”
“Naomi Nicole Hayes. This is not your fault. You are not the one who made her leave. She…” I take a deep breath. “She left for other reasons, but it is not your fault.”
“What are the reasons?” she asks.
“Honestly, princess, I have no idea. She won’t talk to me.”
Naomi drops her head and sighs. “Why?”
“I’m not sure, but I love you, and it’s going to be okay.” I hug her tightly because I don’t know what else to say, or how else to make it better.
“Okay,” she says.
“Are we ready for ice cream?” Aunt Dixie says.
“But we haven’t had dinner,” Naomi says.
“I think we can make an exception this one time,” I tell her.
She hops off the couch and runs into the kitchen, and I lean back, closing my eyes for a minute.
I haven’t talked to Mae in a couple of days because every time I go to call her after I put Naomi to bed; I pass out the moment my head hits the pillow. I miss talking to her.
When we get home, we do our wind-down routine, and I finish reading the next book we’re on.
“Dad?”
“Yeah, princess?”
“Will she ever come back?” Naomi asks. My heart shatters, and I rub the ache as the pieces sink to the bottom of my stomach.
“I don’t know. But I know I’m never leaving you. Okay?” I grind over the stones in my throat.
“Promise?” she asks.
“Promise.”
After I tuck her in and head to my room, a mixture of anger, sadness, and total helplessness rages in my body. I can’t do much about Rebekah. I don’t even know if she’s in town anymore. She won’t answer my calls.
I wish I could fix the damage done to Naomi, but that’s going to take time. This isn’t something I can grab hold of and fix for her, and I hate that.