Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
S avannah
“Wook, Momma. You see dat bug?”
I nod. A small, knowing smile teases my lips as I look down at my daughter. Gigi pulls her petite hand from mine and, with a gleeful giggle and arms outstretched, she dashes off and runs wild and free. The night breeze tousles her hair as she dances with the fireflies. She plucks at the air with eager hands, hoping to catch a beckoning bug. As she twirls, the moonlight catches glittery polka dots on her snowy white dress turning them into crystalline stars.
As I watch her, a fresh memory of me and my mother surfaces. I remember doing this same thing when I was a child. Seeing my Gigi completely immersed in nature, unhindered and uninhibited, brings a rush of emotions and I feel my heart swell. Gigi’s never known freedom like this in our busy neighborhood. There are too many people and too many houses to let a child run with abandon. Whether we were more na?ve back then or if the world has gotten more dangerous, I can’t say for sure. I just won’t take any chances with her safety because, as much as I hate the memory of Drake or how I found my parents, those experiences taught me bad things happen to good people.
I cross my arms over my chest and briskly rub my hands over my skin to ward away the chill. The temperature seems to have dropped from when we left Cora’s house.
“Here. This might help. It’s always a little chillier near the trees.” Ian notes my slight shivering and comes behind me, covering my shoulders.
“Thanks.”
“I grabbed Gigi’s blanket when you were following her out into the field. I thought she might need it. She doesn’t seem to be bothered at all, but she’s running around. Seems you can better use it.”
The gesture is thoughtful, as is his tone, and I pinch the soft material between my fingers, pulling it around me like a shawl. The moonlight slants across his face, accentuating the contrast between his strong jawline and tender expression.
I look out into the field where Gigi’s darting about with boundless energy in her eager attempts to capture a lightning bug, and I stand, breathless, as I take in the sight before me. It’s like looking into a magical wonderland. The air is alive with flickering light dancing among the tall grasses and wildflowers. Each flash illuminates an airborne creature and my sweet girl follows their flights.
“This is beautiful, Ian. I’ve never seen anything like it.” My voice is a reverent whisper filled with gratitude. “There are so many lightning bugs. It looks like a forest of Christmas trees.”
The lightning bugs congregate near the line of Jeffrey pines. It truly seems as if they’ve been lit with thousands of twinkling lights. The evergreens flash in patterns with no rhyme or reason. They’re sweet victims of nature’s timing and the winged creatures who saturate their branches. I can’t help but wonder if Ian realized he was doing Mother Nature a service by not clearing them from his property. I’d recently read lightning bugs are endangered and now, seeing this, I’m happy he left the trees in place. How wonderful a place to be to witness this exchange between bugs and trees and a clear night sky glistening with stars. Gigi’s laughter echoes through the night as she twirls endlessly among the trees and fireflies, the joyful sound rising to the heavens.
I look over at Ian, who seems lost in the moment, as he tries to blink away an unexpected mist of tears. His reaction tugs at my heartstrings, affecting me in a way I couldn’t have imagined. I’ve long known Ian is Gigi’s father and, as I look from him to her, emerging tears sting my eyes as I solidify that knowledge. Their profiles are nearly identical. Same nose. Same chin.
Fear and doubt, and a hefty dose of pride formed my decision not to tell him. I’d always believed I would raise her alone and cared not one bit about leaning on anyone for additional support. But seeing this … feeling this … questions swirl in my mind. If he knew, would he want her? Love her? Deny her?
I swallow an emotional lump as the biggest fear of all invades all the other thoughts; would he try to take her away from me?
As Ian fixes his eyes on her, I push the tortured thoughts aside. Though my guard will always be up when it comes to my daughter, my gut feeling is that, though he may not know it, he already loves her.
“This is overwhelming. I feel like words are inadequate to describe this sensory experience.
“What you’re feeling is what sold me on this place,” he explains, his expression soft as he swipes the back of his hand over his cheeks. “It was abandoned and long forgotten and, somehow, silly as it might sound, we shared that connection. While sober and in recovery I realized I never felt seen, both growing up and when on the stage and in front of thousands. No one was living here, like it had been waiting for me. The old man who owned it had passed away and had no family to inherit the house and possessions. The taxes were in arrears, so it was cheap and was offered for sale with all the furniture and tools. But it was this field—this magic—that sold me. I had one request; would they allow me to spend one night before my final decision. Though I felt a connection when I walked through the door, it was this that made me never want to leave.” He waves outstretched arms, then jabs the air with a pointed finger. “Look, Savannah. There’s another shooting star.”
Catching a glance at Gigi to ensure she’s okay, I then turn my eyes to the sky. “There are so many out here.”
His smile widens. “Every clear night you see many of them. I’d never seen a shooting star until the night I stayed here. I bought the place the next day.”
“Momma, wook!” Gigi runs toward us lightning fast then stops, her toes digging into the grass. She barely moves as excitement shines in her bright blue eyes, and she struggles to contain her enthusiasm. Then, painfully slow, she extends her clasped hands. Ian and I both bend down, pulling close, looking to see what she’s hiding. Slowly, ever so slowly, she slides her thumbs aside to show the small object nestled in her hands. When the opening is wide enough to form a tiny opening in her cupped hands, she peeks inside with one eye at what’s hiding inside and then holds her hands up for us to see. “It’s a wightning bug,” she whispers.
I mold my hands around hers, feeling her grip, and hook my thumbs over hers. I ease the tension in her hold, so the grasp doesn’t squish her prisoner. I calm her zeal with a soothing tone. “Easy, sweetie. You don’t want to hurt him.”
With eyes as wide and blue as a sapphire sky, she looks up at me with pleasure. “Isn’t he just so ‘dorable and cute, Momma?”
“So cute,” I agree.
“I crouch down to get beside her, momentarily stealing her attention away from the bug. “There are hundreds of them, maybe even thousands, that live in these woods. This is where they live; all among the trees.”
Ian looks over to spy what’s inside, then talks to Gigi with an almost equally breathless expectation. “There’s a miniature world inside this big, grassy patch. Every night they come out and put on a show. Maybe you and your mom can come here again while it’s still light out. The three of us can come to the field and watch as they appear.” There’s a childlike tone to his excitement and a sense of wonder which almost matches Gigi’s.
“Can we, Momma? Peeeeeease?”
Her plea is so sweet and hopeful that I feel my heart puddling. I release her hands and crouch down to her level. “We can, but for now, you have to let this little guy go. He has to fly back to his family.”
Her brows pinch and her smile flips upside down. “No, momma,” she protests. “I don’t want to.”
I look into her eyes, almost feeling the heartbreak I see there. “Gigi, you have to let him fly, baby. That’s what he was born to do. He works with his friends to light up the night. You don’t want to stop him, do you?”
Ian, sensing the sensitivity of the moment, meanders away from us, affording me a bit of privacy with my girl. I watch him, the distance great enough to fade him into a shadow, and then, once again, I cover Gigi’s hands with my own. “You like Dominoes, right? The ones we stand up, then tip over?”
She answers me with a nod and a pout.
“Every living thing has a connection, just like the Dominoes. When one falls, it affects all the others. Somewhere, this little bug has a family and they help him light up the sky. When you take one away, a light goes out. I promise, if we let him go, his family will be happy to see him—just like you are to see me when I pick you up from Cora’s. If you don’t release him, they’ll be sad. So, it’s your choice, baby. I’m going to let you decide. Which do you pick? Keep him, or let him go?”
The gentle hum of crickets fills the air as Gigi’s chin drops to her chest. She mulls over her decision for a bit, then mumbles sadly. “Let him go.”
I kiss the top of her head as I stand. “You have a good heart, my sweet girl.” With my thumbs on top of hers, I gently press and enlarge the gap. “We can let him go together.”
The scene becomes dramatic as Gigi’s bottom lip quivers. Her tears glisten amidst a sea of blue and my heart aches for the loss she feels. With a sad expression, she looks down to the place where our hands are joined and her body shudders as she heaves a sorrowful sigh. “No, Momma. I do it myself.”
Oh, my heart. I take a step back, watching as she ever so slowly opens her hands. The bug’s head pops out. Gigi gives him a sad smile. “Fie away, buggie. Go back home.”
The back end of the bug in her palm, its delicate body now visible as it creeps up and over her fingers, steadily blinks its light as it cautiously moves about. The fragile creature navigates the treacherous world of a tiny tot’s fingers and, as it does, Gigi goes completely still. I know her heart. It’s tender. The last thing she would want to do is to cause any living creature harm. The descent from Gigi’s palm to her fingers is tentative, but the slight wind around us sifts through her hand and, when it reaches the tip of her thumb, its wings fully extend. It flutters, as if testing the appendages to assure a successful flight, and then, with a puff of breeze, it turns, catches the air, and is gone.
Gigi’s head drops back, and I spy a duet of tears trailing over her cheeks as she follows the bug’s flight into the sky. The instant loss of a newfound friend gives her a stab of pain and she throws herself at my belly and hides her face in my skirt. Ian appears behind her, closing the distance he placed between us. My heart pinches as I take in his expression. He looks as sad as Gigi.
“It’s okay, baby. You did the right thing and I’m proud of you.” I rub soothing circles on her back, as she quietly cries. “It’s time to go home. It’s past your bedtime.”
She leans back and looks up, sniffing back her sadness. “A few more minutes, Momma, peease?”
I can’t deny her. At the age of three, given a choice to make her own decision, instead of my telling her what to do, is a big deal—and she made the right decision, which is huge to me. “One more minute while I talk to Ian—but when I call you, we have to go, got it?”
She nods, then spies another amber bug. “Wook, Momma! It’s Blinky’s fwiend.” Blinky? Skipping away, she follows its light.
Ian watches her. “I hope she’s had fun, despite having to let the bug go.”
“She definitely has.” I nod.
“That was big of you. Giving her a choice and all.”
“She has to learn. If I give her room to make decisions while she’s little, hopefully, she’ll make decent choices when she’s older.”
“I’ve never thought about it. I did what I was told. Then I screwed up my life.”
“Even if you’d had choices, there’s no guarantee you would have made ones different than you did when you got older.”
“I’d like to think I would have, but then, maybe not.” He reasons. “I don’t know why I made it through the overdose. Buying this place was the first, decent, decision I ever made. It was a good one. At least, I’m sure of that.”
His sincerity and transparency moves me. “Everything happens for a reason. I truly believe that. You’ve made other decisions—BIG decisions. You could have checked yourself out of rehab. You didn’t, and you got clean. You stepped away from the spotlight, knowing you’d fall back into unhealthy patterns. That’s a big deal. You bought this place, true, but you could have hired people to take on this place. Instead, you worked it. That garden is amazing. I’m sure I could find some other examples but, what I’m getting at is, that your decisions, past and present, brought you here. To this moment.” I look in the distance at the massive space. “And, here, doesn’t look so bad to me.” I drop the subject and glimpse over at Gigi who is sweetly sitting on the grass, staring up at the sky. Emotion hits me. The way the moonlight hits her serene expression is a picture I’ll never forget. “Thank you, Ian.”
His forehead wrinkles. “For?”
“For this.” I nod toward Gigi. “For sharing this with us. For giving my daughter an experience she’ll never forget. I mean, look at her. This is a side of Gigi I’ve not seen. She’s so full of wonder. A few minutes ago, she was a little wildling running about, and now she’s the picture of serenity. There’s so much light pollution in our development and very few trees. All of this is new to her. And, in case you have any doubt because of her crying over the bug, she loves it. So, thank you.”
A gentle smile fills his lips as a tender look reflects in his eyes. “You’re welcome. You can bring Gigi any time. You’re always welcome. There’s a horse in the barn. I got her from a rescue. I also rescued a cat not long ago. I didn’t know it at the time but she was pregnant so, now, I’ve got a bunch of kittens.”
“Oh, she would love that.” I pause, feeling a sudden wave of vulnerability. “You know, I get so caught up in all the mothering stuff— making sure she has healthy food, gets enough sleep, correcting her grammar ... all of that kind of stuff … but, seeing her like this is new. It takes me back to when my mom did things like this with me. It’s so different when you have a kid. You see things again for the first time. Seriously, look at her. She looks like one of the little woodland fairies.”
A hearty laugh escapes him. “I’m not sure I’d know a woodland fairy if it bit me on the ass.”
“My mom used to read me bedtime stories about them.” A wistful feeling tugs my heart. “I haven’t thought about that in years.”
“You miss her.”
“I do.” I go to Ian’s side and thread my arm through his and the unexpected move widens his eyes. “You did a good thing here, Ian. You gave a child a memory. She’ll be talking about stars and bugs for days.”