38. Caleb
Chapter 38
Caleb
“ I didn’t know who to call.” Mia hiccups, her arms wrapped around my waist. “Aunt Greta is working tonight.”
I have no idea who her aunt is or what happened yet, but holding this scared girl—my daughter—takes precedence. The ride to the hospital was the longest half-hour of my life.
Right now, everything feels like an endless ordeal. Like I’m in flux, floating aimlessly, trying to put out fires, but I can’t fucking stop the flames. They’re licking mercilessly, burning me with hopeless frustration.
“I’m glad you called me. What happened?” I keep stroking her hair.
A quiet sob racks through her small body. “I found Mom on the floor in the kitchen. ”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I keep stroking her head, strangely aware that I’ve never needed to comfort anyone. Two important people are leaning on me, and I have no clue how to be here for them. How to make their situations better.
My gaze finds Celeste. She gives me a weak smile and a nod. It smooths the edges of my frayed mind, but I’m still at a loss about what to do next.
Reese never wanted to talk to me, so what’s my role here? I should have tried harder.
As if Celeste could feel my inadequacy, she steps closer and pats Mia’s back. “Let’s have your dad find out what’s going on, and when you can see your mom.”
My hopelessness recedes as Celeste’s words give me a jolt of purpose. Mia squeezes me before she turns to Celeste.
My wife wraps her arm around my daughter. “Let’s get hot chocolate, and when we’re back, I’m sure Caleb will know more.”
Celeste pats my biceps, and her sad smile reassures me. Of what, I don’t know, but as I watch the two of them walking away from me, I vow not to fail them.
It takes quite a lot of effort to get to talk to anyone, including waving around Benjamins, my paternity test results, and various threats.
By the time I finally get to talk to a young doctor who is trying to stifle yawns, I almost donate an entire wing to the hospital.
It’s what I learn that steals my oxygen, and makes me question every single decision—all of them cowardly—as a father.
“What’s going on?” Celeste’s warm hand on my shoulder brings me back to the bleak reality.
I turn to find her standing behind me, while Mia sips her chocolate on a seat a few feet away. My eyes dart between the two of them.
How does one’s life go to shit in the span of several hours?
“Overdose,” I whisper, knowing that it explains a lot and nothing at the same time.
“Merde. Is she—”
“She’ll be okay.” The words leave my mouth, but I know they’re only a partial truth. “I mean, she’s alive.”
“Good.” Celeste takes my hand and leads me to Mia.
I almost bolt, because I don’t know what to do or say to her. Why the fuck is her aunt working tonight? Who even is her aunt?
I halt abruptly, and Celeste stumbles. Mia’s head is down like she’s staring into her cup. She looks much smaller in that moment.
It hurts looking at her, a girl that’s the spitting image of me in a darker, more feminine, version .
A girl who courageously found me, and instead of my time and affection, I offered her my credit card.
A girl that has been—I’m assuming—living in less-than-ideal conditions, and I didn’t bother to gain her trust enough for her to confide in me.
She didn’t spell out her problems when she showed up in my life, but fuck, she showed up, and I…
“I’m like my father.” A bitter chuckle gets lodged in my throat. My new personal low blurs my vision.
Celeste pinches my chin between her thumb and finger, forcing me to look at her. “You can wallow later. That girl needs you. You have the entire rest of your life to choose not to be like him, but you need to start right now. Because right now is what matters.”
Fuck, I love this woman. The idea of losing her burns like acid in my stomach. Our unresolved conversation from the kitchen hangs above me like a sword of Damocles.
But my attention needs to be elsewhere. On another beautiful person who I grew to love without even realizing.
I sit beside Mia. “Your mom will be okay. She’s sleeping right now, but they’ll let you see her soon.” I pull her to me and kiss the top of her head.
Her breath hitches with unshed tears. “Will you stay?” The vulnerability in her voice punches me in my stomach .
“Of course.”
“Mia!” A woman’s voice rings through the air, and my daughter shoves her empty cup into my hand and rushes over to the newcomer.
She’s about my age, wearing a blue MTA shirt, and Mia wraps her arms around her similarly to what she did earlier with me. I guess I’m about to meet the aunt.
I stand, dunking my cup into a bin, and approach them gingerly. The woman frowns at me from above Mia’s head.
“I called my dad.” Mia turns her head to meet my eyes.
In a beat of silence, the air between us fills with my uncertainty, and by the look of it, a lack of trust on the aunt’s part. Reese’s sister glares at me.
“Caleb van den Linden.” I extend my hand.
She shakes it. Thank God for that. Today has brought enough drama. “Greta Morgan, I’m Reese’s sister. Reese didn’t tell me you were in touch.”
“Mom didn’t know,” Mia says quickly, and then covers her mouth like she could shove the words back inside. “I-I… Am I in trouble?”
“Of course not,” I say.
“Little bit,” Greta says at the same time.
I sigh, and Mia looks at me with so much remorse and anxiety on her face I want to wage a war to make her feel better. At this rate, I’d obliterate half of Manhattan with all the shit happening.
“Are you mad at me?” Mia looks down.
For the first time since Mia’s call earlier, I’m sure of something, at least. “I’m not mad at you at all.”
Her shoulders relax visibly, and it spreads an unreasonable wave of relief through my chest. It’s lost in a sea of worry and unanswered questions, but it’s there.
“Where is Reese?” Greta asks.
“Sleeping at the moment. We can see her in about an hour, when they move her from the ICU.”
“Mia, can you wait while I talk to Caleb?” Greta’s voice leaves no room for argument.
“I’ll stay with her.” Celeste joins us.
God, I’m grateful she’s here with us.
Not only is she somehow present at every right moment, but she’s not intruding. The silent support I never knew I needed. All while tomorrow’s interview is hanging over our heads.
“This is my wife, Celeste.” I introduce her to Greta.
As someone who never believed in marriage, the pride those words carry shocks me. But this is not about being married.
This feeling spreads to every corner of my cynical heart and mind, because I’m married to this woman .
Celeste leads Mia back to our seats, and Greta and I find a quiet waiting room that’s empty, by some sheer stroke of luck.
“Reese is a good mother,” Greta hurls at me the minute the door closes behind us.
Okay, I didn’t expect this turn of conversation, but let’s go with it. “Forgive me if I have a doubt or two, given that her—our—daughter found her OD’d on the floor.”
“You have no right to judge her. Where were you for the last decade?” she attacks, stepping back from me like I’m a physical threat to her.
“I didn’t know about Mia. But I think I have the right to pass judgment, given the current circumstances.”
I don’t understand what Greta’s problem is, but fuck, I’m going to do everything possible to make Mia safe and comfortable. Loved.
“You can’t take her away. Reese has lost way too much. I know you believe your money can buy anything, but if you take Mia, my sister won’t make it.” Greta’s combative attitude wanes. She sags to an empty chair, her head hanging.
“My daughter didn’t know me for most of her life, so I’m going to do all I can to make sure she has both parents well and present as much as possible.”
Greta lifts her gaze. She studies me for a long moment before she speaks. “Reese is a self-employed bookkeeper. After Mia was born, she used your father’s money to get through school and got a CPA certification. She wanted a career that allowed her to work from home, so she could be there for Mia.”
Greta stands up and paces the small space. “Everything changed a year ago when she was in an accident. Long story short, she became addicted to painkillers, and everything escalated from there.”
From this short but efficient summary, I gather Reese is an admirable mother who became a victim of unfortunate circumstances. The knowledge offers relief and agony at the same time. “I had no idea.”
“I don’t understand how you found Mia—”
“I didn’t. She found me.”
I think of the texts from Reese, the ones that said she had no desire to see me. Those texts reinforced my belief that she was only after my money. But now I see the story is different.
“Reese lost her clients and their house. They’ve been living with me. She seemed better, and when the fridge got full again, I assumed that was the case. That she got some clients back.”
I need to move, to process, to let out the simmering frustration. “Let’s go back to Mia. She shouldn’t be alone right now. ”
I don’t wait for Greta, feeling like a caged animal here.
I don’t have all the pieces yet, but even without the full picture, two things are obvious.
My daughter has more courage than me.
And I should have fucking tried harder to make our relationship legit. To find out how she lives on those days, during the long stretches of time, when she isn’t with me.
I move with renewed determination, knowing full well that I can’t fix any of those things tonight. I march back to the hallway, where Celeste sits with Mia’s head in her lap, and it hits me.
In my efforts to fix everything, I didn’t realize that sometimes all people need from me isn’t my money, or me fixing their problems.
It’s just being there for them. Supporting them. Or simply keeping them safe when they feel vulnerable.
Just like my wife is doing right now for my daughter.
I sit beside them, and Mia stirs, sighing in her sleep.
Greta doesn’t join our little circle, but sits at the end of the row across from us, closing her eyes.
“You have a smart daughter. Thank God she decided to find you when she struggled the most.” Celeste gives me a sad smile.
“I wish I’d accepted her the way she deserved.”
“You got there eventually.”
“But perhaps too late. If I’d cared about them better, I could have prevented this.”
“You had your reasons—”
“Fucked-up reasons.”
“You’re here. That matters more than how you got here.”
“I should have done more. I should have tried harder. I could have prevented this.”
Celeste moves her hand from Mia’s hair to my shoulder. Deep lines of exhaustion mar her face, her eyes swallowed by dark circles.
She gives me a weak smile. “You’re here now,” she repeats.
Fuck, she needs to focus on tomorrow, yet she’s here for me and my daughter. But tomorrow is too important, equally important. And she needs a good night's sleep after today.
“I’m calling Peter to get you home. You need to rest.”
She flinches at my suggestion, but immediately smiles. “Okay.”
Fuck, why didn’t I realize sooner she needed the comfort of our home? “I’m sorry—”
“No, Caleb, this is where you need to be.”
She’s right, and I’m right as well, she needs to get some rest. But being right doesn’t mean it feels right. Separating right now, considering our unresolved conversation from earlier, sends a sense of foreboding shuddering through me.
I watch her leave, her shoulders slumped, her head hanging. Even in her defeated, dressed-down version, she oozes elegance. My wife.
But it doesn’t matter that she’s mine, because her departure feels final.