Chapter 23
Ivy
Nell’s quiet when she gets home from school and quiet some more during dinner.
“You okay, Nell Bell? Did something happen at school today?”
“We had the fire truck ‘ssembly.” She shoves her food around her plate.
“I didn’t know that was your school. That’s so neat! Did you see Micah?”
Nell nods. “We got to look at his truck. It was real cool. Especially when he turned on the sirens and lights.”
Everything she’s saying sounds perfectly normal, except she’s lacking the exuberance I’d expect from my little girl.
“Did you get to introduce him to your friends?”
“Giuseppe met him. Well, the whole class did. But Giuseppe really got to talk to him cuz he’s always talking anyways.”
I ask a few more probing questions but get the same kind of answers.
Nothing about the conversation should set off my alarm bells, but everything about it does.
We move through the evening. Nell swims while I sit on the deck and follow up on my job search.
We watch a movie, and she takes her bath. She’s quiet the entire time.
I go to bed unsettled. Something’s bugging her.
And it’s the first time in her life she didn’t immediately come to me with the problem.
Micah
It’s never easy to get a good night’s rest in the bunk room at the fire station.
But tonight? I can’t keep my eyes closed long enough to convince sleep to come.
The interaction with Nell and her friend keeps going round and round in my mind.
She stared at me so hard after that kid said we looked alike.
Did she see the similarities? Did she agree?
Did it mean anything, or has she moved on to something else already?
Kids have short attention spans. Hell, I have a short attention span and I’m a grown up. Nell’s probably already forgotten the whole thing.
I roll onto my side, which only encourages a new set of questions to pipe up.
Is it time? Is it time to tell her I’m her father? Or would that be too much for her, considering we’re still basically strangers?
Fuck it. Sleep isn’t coming. I toss the blanket off and sit up with a growl. Maybe I need to tire myself out. I change, then head to the workout room where I focus on the feel of the bar during bench presses, on the contraction of the muscles, on my breath, the sweat, but still…
Will Nell hate me for not telling her the same day she moved in? Will it hurt her to learn I didn’t know she existed until we met at the foundation?
Being a parent means every choice I make affects my child, but I’ve only been a parent for a handful of days.
I have no clue what I’m doing. What’s right.
What’s wrong. Hell, I’ve not exactly been the best judge of that in my life, at least according to how comfortable I got in the principal’s office over the years.
I finish my work out and hit the showers, then lie back down in a bunk and stare at the ceiling.
Ivy
The next morning, Nell skips down the stairs, humming to herself while I cook up some One-Eyed Sailors—one of her favorite breakfasts.
It’s basically eggs and toast, except I cut a circle into some bread, throw it in a pan with butter, then crack the egg inside so everything cooks together.
She swears it tastes better because the “flavors get all jimbly-jambly” but I think the name makes her think of pirates.
“How’d you sleep, sweet girl?”
“Super duper great.” She peers into the pan then jumps up and down. “One-Eyed Sailors? I knew it was gonna be a good day!” She prances around the kitchen, humming a sea shanty I found on the internet the last time I made this for breakfast.
“You seem like you’re in a better mood.”
Nell pauses, eyeing me. “You know what? I am.”
“Feel like talking about what had you so quiet yesterday?” I slide the One-Eyed Sailor out of the pan onto a plate and place it on the table.
I wasn’t going to have breakfast today. With everything going on, I’ve been eating more than usual, and I could stand to cut back on the calories.
But, the smell of butter, toast, and eggs is too much, and I put the pan back on the burner.
Julian wouldn’t approve, but what Julian thinks doesn’t matter anymore. I’m hungry. The end.
Using the rim of a glass, I cut a circle out of a slice of bread. A quick check of the time says Micah will be home any minute, so I grab a few extra slices in case he’s hungry.
Nell takes a hearty bite, chewing happily. “Giuseppe said somethin’ weird yesterday.”
I crack an egg, my mom senses jumping to red alert. This Giuseppe kid might be harmless, but Nell takes everything he says a little too seriously. “Oh, yeah?”
“He said me and Micah look like twins.”
I freeze as the egg sizzles. “Did he now?”
“Which I thought was pretty silly. Right? Micah’s a grownup and I’m a kid. Twins aren’t like that.”
I bob my head, poking at the egg with my spatula. “That’s right. Twins are born at the same time. That was a pretty silly thing to say, wasn’t it?”
Nell’s quiet for all of two seconds and then, “Is Micah my daddy?”
The question hits me in the chest and the world slows to a halt. Of all the ways I anticipated talking to my daughter about her father, I never thought she’d put the pieces together herself. I turn to her, cocking my head as Grandma’s advice echoes in my mind.
Micah should have a say in how and when we tell Nell he’s her dad. He’s her parent too. If he’s not ready, then it’d be wrong of me to drop this in his lap. “What makes you ask that?”
“At first, when Giuseppe said I looked like him, I thought he was stupid. Micah has brown hair and I have white. He’s a boy. I’m a girl. How do we even look like each other?”
I nod.
“But he has brown eyes and I have brown eyes and you said I look just like my daddy except for my hair. I looked and looked and looked in the mirror and Micah and me do kind of look like each other.” She pauses to shove a bite into her mouth.
“I’ll never tell Giuseppe though. He already thinks he knows everything. ”
“I see.”
“And then, Micah likes strawberry ice cream and I like strawberry ice cream, and you said I was the best parts of my daddy…”
“A lot of people like strawberry ice cream, Nell.”
“When I told everyone at school he let us live here, everyone said it was weird, even Miss Wannamaker.”
I suck in my lips and check the time. How long until Micah comes home?
Micah
I’m exhausted when I pull into the driveway.
More so than usual. Even the prospect of seeing Ivy can’t put any pep in my step.
I need to talk to her about what happened at the school, but my brain might as well be spaghetti after a sleepless night.
My body aches because of the work out. Do I have the energy for a conversation this important?
Or worse, am I blowing it all out of proportion?
Maybe Nell’s forgotten everything that happened yesterday.
Maybe it wasn’t that big a deal in the first place.
When’s the right time to tell her I’m her father?
My boot hits the first step. My hand grips the rail. I hang my head.
That little girl deserves the best shot at life I can give her. Whatever I do now can make or break that shot.
I’ve never felt so much pressure in my life.
Ivy
“You told people at school that Micah gave us a house?”
“Yeah. And it got me to thinking. All of it. And I just started to wonder if Micah is my daddy.”
I fold my arms across my stomach. I don’t want to lie to her.
But I don’t want to make the decision to tell her on my own.
Outside, feet hit the steps, heavy, clumsy, almost like someone who’s been awake for the better part of a day.
Keys rattle in the lock and relief softens the tension in my shoulders because if he’s here, he’ll have a say in how this goes.
“Please, Mama!” Nell cries as the door swings open. “Please tell me Micah’s my daddy. I really want him to be my daddy!”
Micah
I pause just inside the door as Nell begs Ivy to tell her I’m her daddy. That name, wrapped in her little voice, it twines around my heart and tightens my throat. My girls look to me, Nell filled with hope and Ivy with worry.
“Is it true?” Nell asks me, grinning. “Do you look like me because you’re my daddy?”
I glance at Ivy. She shrugs, chewing her bottom lip, like a mouse staring at the cat.
My eyes burn as I look to my daughter. I nod, my voice stuck behind a lump in my throat.
Nell stands. Takes one step toward me, her little brows furrowing, and suddenly my worst fears are coming true. She’s going to hate me for not being part of her life. She’s going to run to her room and slam the door and I’ve only been in her life for a few days and have already ruined it.
“I’m sorry—” I begin, but Nell runs to me, wrapping her little arms around my legs and squeezing tight.
I drop my hand on her head, her white gold hair like spun silk against my palm, and meet Ivy’s gaze. One hand covers her heart, the other her mouth. Tears glimmer in her eyes.
Nell looks up at me, her smile as bright as the sun. “I always knew my daddy was a superhero,” she says, and something shifts inside my heart, a lock turning, the tumblers clicking into place.
Ivy can’t move out. She can get a job and pay me rent if that’ll make her feel better, but after this? I can’t imagine being without my girls again.