By the time he put her into her jammies and tucked her into bed, she felt like crying.
Dad curled up alongside her. “I’m sorry if I’ve been weird tonight, Princess. Being in the hospital reminded me of my sister.”
“Mia,” she said solemnly, showing off that she remembered the name they hardly ever said aloud. “I bet you hate hospitals.”
“I wouldn’t be much of a doctor if that were true.” He smiled down at her. “Besides, I got you in a hospital.”
Grace snuggled against him. This was one of her favorite stories. “What did I look like?”
“You were a perfect little princess. Your eyes were sort of brownish-blue then. You hardly even cried.”
“And my mommy was there?”
“She named you Grace.”
“And you named me after your sister. Then you took me home.”
“I loved you from the very first second.”
“I know, but how come—”
“Enough, Gracie,” he said, reaching over for the book on the nightstand. “Daddy’s had a hard day. How about if I read more of The Secret Garden to you?”
“But don’t you want to hear about my new friend?”
“The movie star who ate an ostrich and rides a magic bike?”
“She might not really be a movie star. Maybe she’s a spy who—”
“Enough, Gracie,” he said, opening the book. “Now, where were we?”
He knew, though; he always knew. Grace smiled sleepily and murmured, “Colin is better.”
“Oh. Yeah,” Daddy said, turning to the right page and starting to read. “One of the strange things about living in the world is that it is only now and then one is quite sure one is going to live forever and ever…”
Grace popped her thumb into her mouth and listened to the music of her daddy’s voice.
*
“They yell at her, Scot. And she’s always alone. No one bothers to come out and play with her. Her only friend seems to be invisible.”
“My son’s imaginary friend is a duck. What does that say about him, I wonder?”
“This is serious,” Lexi said. She had spent endless hours wrestling with her own emotions, and no matter how often or how forcefully she told herself that Grace was better off without an ex-con for a mother, she couldn’t trample the new feeling that she’d been wrong to abandon her daughter. It was like opening the door on a tornado—there was no stopping the damage that would be done inside, and no closing the door again.
Abandon. The word ate through Lexi’s best intentions and stripped her bare. In all her attempts to be unlike her own mother, had she done the same thing? And how was it that she’d never asked herself this question before?
“You’re right,” Scot said, pushing back his chair. The metal wheels screeched on the Pergo flooring. “It’s very serious. Why don’t you sit down? You’re moving like an egg beater.”
She did as he asked and sat down.
“Talk to me, Lexi.”
She took a deep breath. “Giving Grace up was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” Her voice dropped; it was difficult to say the words, even after all her therapy. “The only thing that kept me going was this image of what her life would be like. I saw pink dresses and birthday parties with ponies and bedtime stories and family Christmas dinners. I saw a little girl who grew up knowing she was loved, knowing where she belonged.”
She looked up. “I trusted them, Scot,” she said, anger surging up. “All of them. Miles. Jude. Zach. I trusted them to give her the childhood I never had. And you know what I found? A lonely little girl whose daddy is too busy to be with her … a girl who gets yelled at for nothing … who plays all alone. A girl with no friends…”
“What do you want to do?”
She got up again and began pacing. “I’m a felon. An ex-con. I’m twenty-four years old with almost no job experience. Gee, I worked in the prison library and an ice cream shop, and I picked raspberries in the summer. I’m broke. What can I do?”
“Did your Aunt Eva have money when she took you in?”
Lexi stopped moving and stared out of the office window. Outside, a young mother was helping her red-haired daughter up to a silver drinking fountain. “She had a job and a place to live.”
“You have a college degree and you’re a hard worker. On top of that, you’re one of the most honorable people I know. You know more about love—and its lack—than most people. So I’ll ask you again: what do you want to do? It’s a simple question. Either you stay or you go.”