Chapter Eight
Savannah
Alana squealed as the cool water lapped at her tiny feet. Her excitement bubbled over, eyes wide with exhilaration as she turned to me expectantly. I held back for a moment, letting the water wash over her toes before scooping her up with a laugh.
I laughed when I grabbed her up and instead of setting her down again, I held her against me and ran into the water.
The sun warmed my skin, but the cool splash as we waded deeper sent a refreshing shiver down my spine.
I ventured out until the water reached my waist and then dipped, letting the gentle waves cradle us both. The coolness against my hot skin made me tingle.
Alana’s floaties bobbed with each movement, and I pushed back the wet curls clinging to her forehead, planting a kiss there.
“Do you like the water, Alana?” I asked, smiling at her joyful nod.
“Yes!” Her voice was bright, pure happiness. We splashed and played until the fatigue set in and I felt the weight of holding heragainst the current. She didn’t know how to swim so I couldn’t let her go. Even with the floaties, she is barely able to hold her head above water. Plus, she freaked out like she was sure she would drown.
“Let’s take a little rest on the blankets, baby girl,” I said. I guided her back toward the shore, watching her little legs kick with playful defiance. She finally put her feet down when we were close enough, a determined look on her face as she marched the last stretch towards the blankets.
Pride swelled in me at her resilience. There were a lot of kids I’d seen who threw tantrums and screamed and were terrible to their parents. Young kids and older ones, too.
I could never see Alana acting that way. She was just too sweet. I wasn’t about to spoil her. To me, that played a big part in how respectful a child was in public and in private.
Once ashore, I lifted her up and turned to face our spot, only to stop short. A man stood by our blankets, his back half-turned as he fiddled with his phone.
My heart skipped. Was he taking a picture of our blankets? Was that Roger? My pulse drummed a warning, and a chill that had nothing to do with the water spread through me.
I took a steadying breath, trying to recall his build, but my memories were shadowed by the passage of time and the protective walls I’d built to forget after he’d gone to prison and I divorced him.
Why was he trying to find me? I hadn’t done anything to him.
It was Alana, I reminded myself.
I braced myself, ready for a confrontation, he suddenly looked up and out across the shore. But relief came like a flood when he raised an arm and waved, jogging off to meet someone. A nervous chuckle escaped me. It wasn’t Roger!
I jogged with my baby in my arms over to the blankets and set her down. My soft cooler was there. As soon as I put her down,Alana went straight to the cooler and tried to grab the zipper pull to open it. She yanked on it repeatedly but the tension wasn’t there.
“Come on, baby girl, let me give you a hand” I said, I held it above and below so she could unzip it. She let out a triumphant giggle when she got it opened, pulling out her juice box and crackers. She held both out to me.
“You open your crackers, and I’ll put the straw in your juice box” I said, guiding her through the familiar routine. The crackers were in a ziploc bag she knew how to open.
At first, she’d opened them with such force the crackers would fly out everywhere. But after she learned the proper energy needed, that didn’t happen anymore. So I let her do that herself now.
She still hadn’t mastered not squeezing the juice box when putting in the straw. Half of the liquid ended up on us every time I had her do it. She managed with a careful, practiced hand, and soon we sat in the sun, drying off.
After that scare with the man I thought was Roger, I told myself I was being foolish. I didn’t know anyone who would tell him where I lived but then again, I didn’t really know the law. What if he was legally allowed to know where his daughter was?
What if Roger came looking for Alana? He had rights, after all. I should have fought to terminate them. I didn’t think he would be out in such a short time.
As I sat thinking about it, listening to Alana singing to herself, I wondered why I hadn’t thought about Roger having those assault charges on him. I’d avoided most of it, not wanting to know how bad he’d been.
I certainly didn’t want to be around him or look at him. I know he would have tried to get my attention if I’d attended the court hearings. I didn’t even want to be seen with him.
I looked around at the other people on the shore, some of them sunbathing, some playing frisbee, others with balls or walking their dogs.
But my mind couldn't rest. What if Roger knew where we were? The thought clawed at me, unfurling fears I’d pushed aside for months.
I scanned the beach, eyes locking onto a man by the parking lot fencing. His posture, the shaved head—it all screamed familiarity, he was wearing regular clothes. My pulse quickened, fingers tightening around Alana's arm instinctively. I swallowed hard, willing my expression to remain calm for her sake.
