Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Cordelia
Renthrow’s concern for his daughter is palpable, and it gets even more intense when a frazzled woman opens the front door and we race into her humble bungalow.
Gordie’s beneath a large dining room table. She’s wearing a sparkly Hello Kitty shirt and matching pink jeans. A glittery blue headband keeps her dark hair away from her face.
Outwardly, nothing seems wrong.
But she’s staring straight ahead, her hands wrapped around her knees. And she’s so still.
“Oh Gordie,” I whisper, my heart cracking in half. The emptiness in her eyes isn’t like her at all.
Across the room, a little girl is watching Gordie anxiously. The little girl notices our entry and runs in our direction.
My body instinctively takes a step back, and I see Renthrow noticing that, but it’s just for a moment. He then focuses his attention on the child who stops in front of him.
“Mr. Renthrow, is Gordie okay?”
“Yeah, Vinnie.” He’s extremely gentle when he kneels in front of her. “She’s just having sad thoughts right now.” His hazel eyes meet mine desperately. “I’ll go talk to her.”
I nod.
Vinnie steps out of Renthrow’s way, and when she sees me, her eyes widen. “You’re the bike lady!”
I edge away from her. “H-hey.”
“I’m Vinnie.” She moves closer. “I’m Gordie’s friend.”
“Mm.”
“Are you Gordie’s friend?” She takes a step forward.
I step back. “Mm-hm.”
“Does that mean you and I are friends too?”
I swallow hard, noticing how both her elbows are covered with Band-Aids. Vinnie notices where my gaze has gone and lifts her elbow proudly.
“I got these falling off my bike,” she explains. “I don’t use training wheels anymore.”
“How…nice.” I point to the table. “I’ll go see if I can help.”
“Come over here, Vinnie,” the mother calls, giving me a wary look.
I’m more than happy to get away and join Renthrow who’s kneeling in front of the dining room table. He has to duck his head to see under all the chairs.
“Gordie, sweetheart, Daddy’s here. Are you okay?”
The silence that meets his statement is ear-splitting.
He reaches toward Gordie, but his hand freezes in midair, and he pulls back. The shattered expression on his face breaks my own heart. The pain and helplessness is right there, right at the surface.
I touch his shoulder, and he looks at me, his nostrils flaring and his eyes heavy.
Shakily, I nod.
He backs away from the table, and I take his place, my heart thudding in my ears.
How do I do this? My awkward interaction with Vinnie proved that I’m still terrible with children. I’m not the person even adults think about when they need comfort. I’ve got no soft, motherly touch. I didn’t receive a soft, motherly touch growing up either.
What if Renthrow was wrong? What if that first time Gordie responded to me was a coincidence? What if she sees how messed up I am and turns me away just like she does everyone else?
Pushing forward despite the doubts, I whisper, “Gordie?”
Her body doesn’t move, but her eyes latch onto me. The strain in them makes me want to give her a hug.
“Can I come in?”
She doesn’t answer.
I wiggle under the table anyway. My work boots drop dust and grass particles along the way, but I ignore it. I should have taken my shoes off at the door, but I was too worried, and it’s too late now.
“Hey,” I say softly.
She blinks a few times.
I lick my lips. “I—”
Gordie dips her head down into her arms to hide her face from me. She’s already so small, and when she folds into herself like that, she practically disappears. I could pick her up and stow her in the storage space under my bike seat and still have room.
Unsure of what to do now, I look back at Renthrow. A muscle in his jaw ticks, and he gestures to Vinnie and her mom.
“Do you ladies mind if we go to the living room for a second?”
“I want to stay with Gordie!” Vinnie whines.
“Please,” Renthrow says in a voice that’s both firm and gentle.
“Come on, Vinnie.” The mother takes Vinnie’s hand and leads her out. Renthrow follows them.
Gordie’s shoulders relax when the room empties, and I realize that Renthrow had been able to understand what his daughter needed without her having to say a word.
My perspective shifts in that moment. Rather than panic about how unworthy I am to be this little girl’s friend, I instead focus on what Gordie needs.
I tentatively start, “Gordie, why are you under the table?”
Her head remains tucked into her arms.
I wipe my sweaty palms against Renthrow’s sweatshirt. I’m more nervous now than I was that time I had to give an end-of-year speech at a Davenport charity gala.
How do I give Gordie what she needs?
I think back to the night Renthrow snapped me out of my thoughts of Gwen. He’d been able to distract me by being vulnerable and honest.
Using his words from that night, I say softly, “Do you want to know my deepest, darkest secret?”
Gordie’s head pops up.
“Remember I told you about my sister last time?”
“You built forts together,” the little girl mumbles, her eyes starting to gain a bit more light.
“My sister’s name was Gwen. Short for Gwendolyn.”
Gordie scrunches her nose. “Gwend-o…”
“…Lyn,” I help her sound out the name. “She wasn’t only my sister. She was my best friend, but when we got older, Gwen wanted to do things apart from me. And we spent less and less time together.”
I pause. The memories rise like a wave in the distance, building and building with each word. I know it’s going to crash down on me. I know the knifing sensation will be here soon.
But Gordie’s listening keenly. I can see her coming back to herself.
I can’t stop here, even if it hurts.
“Everyone liked Gwen more than me. Even my mom. And because of that, I spent a very long time not liking Gwen anymore.”
“But she’s your sister.”
“Yeah, well”—my smile is sad—“sometimes, we act the meanest with the people closest to us.”
“You should treat everyone nice.”
“You’re a lot smarter than me, Gordie, but I didn’t know that back then. I did some bad things to Gwen.” I stop short of telling her any details of how terrible of a person I was. “In the end, my sister got sad and went very, very far away from me.”
Gordie’s shoulders slump. “Like my mom.”
No, not exactly. “Do you miss your mom?”
She takes a moment to answer. “It makes Dad sad when I talk about her.”
“You can talk to me about her. I don’t mind.”
Gordie scoots closer to me and says in a shaky tone. “Delia.”
“Yeah?”
“When I’m grown up, I’m going to learn how to ride a bike, and I’m going to ride and ride and ride until I get to my mom…”
My eyes fill with tears as the little girl’s voice swells, heated and determined.
“…I’m going to ask her why she didn’t want me.”
“Gordie”—my heart shudders in pain—“your mom wanted you.”
“No, she didn’t. Or she’d be here,” Gordie whispers.
My voice is husky. “What about your dad? Your dad loves you so, so much. Because of you, he’s the happiest in the world.”
She shakes her head. “Mom left Daddy because of me.”
“Who told you that?” I demand.
“I heard my teachers talking about it.”
I pull her in for a hug. “Your teachers are wrong, Gordie. No matter what happened between your parents, it wasn’t because of you. I haven’t met your mom, but I know your dad. His life got so much better because of you.”
She sniffles against my chest.
“You’re the most special little girl in the whole wide world. You know how I know that?”
“How?”
“Because you’re friends with someone mean like me, and you turned me into someone nice. You are so kind that it rubs off on people. And even if your mom doesn’t show it like other moms, and even if she’s a little mean for not showing up, she loves you a lot too.”
Gordie allows me to hug her for a minute longer and then she straightens. “Delia?”
“Yes?” I wipe a tear that falls free from my eyes.
“Will you tell Daddy what I said?”
“Do you want me to?”
She shakes her head no.
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
Gordie smiles and wraps her arms around my neck. She squeezes me tight, and I squeeze back, holding her like she’s my entire world.
“I love you, Delia,” she says.
My heart cracks and groans like an iceberg finally thawing after centuries. Squeezing the tiny little girl who now owns my heart completely, I whisper, “I love you too.”