On the playground, Mom winces, and I immediately start toward her. She’ll never admit she needs a break or that she’s in pain, but she doesn’t argue when I tell her to let me take over pushing Harper.
Harper squeals with delight as I pull back the swing as far as I can because she knows what’s coming. I let go and give her a push for good measure, and she soars, laughing all the way.
She’s the kid who’s always asking to go higher and higher.
The day is sunny and cool, with a crispness in the air that means winter weather is waiting in the wings. It’s cold enough today to need a light jacket and to want to stay in the sun as much as possible. Someone somewhere is burning brush, a scent that means fall.
I see Bryson’s car as he parks on the street next to the playground. The small lot here is full, as is the playground.
It’s too beautiful a Sunday afternoon for anyone with kids to want to stay home.
And it’s about time for Harper to give up her swing and let someone else have a turn, anyway.
I grab the chains holding the swing and pull Harper to a stop.
“Not yet,” Harper says, a whine creeping into her voice.
“Harper.” I walk around the swing to face her, and I smile like this is the best news I’m ever going to give her. “There’s a new friend I’d like you to meet. He’s someone who’s been wanting to meet you for a really long time.”
She scowls. “I want to swing.”
Of course she does. I wonder again whether I’m handling this the right way. Should I have told her that she’s meeting her father today? I figured it’ll be better if she gets to know Bryson and to like him before I tell her he’s her dad, but maybe it’s wrong to blindside her like this.
“Hi there.” Bryson’s standing right behind me, and my time is up.
I pull Harper off the swing and gesture to the kid who’s been waiting to hop on.
Immediately, Harper starts to cry. “That’s my swing.”
I walk away. “It’ll still be there in a little while, and you can have another turn. Right now, would you like to go on the nature trail and show our new friend how good you are at finding pretty rocks?”
She sniffles. “I want to swing.”
“I love pretty rocks,” Bryson says.
If I’d been expecting a big reaction from Harper at seeing her father for the first time, I’d have been dismally disappointed.
Harper just smiles at him the way she smiles at everyone. She definitely got her charm and sunny personality from Bryson and not me. “I find the best rocks,” she says.
He smiles back at her, and I can see in his eyes that he’s fallen hard for her already. “I’m not so good at finding good rocks,” he says.
Harper frowns, seriously concerned about his lack of skill. “I’ll teach you.”
She wiggles out of my arms, and I put her down. She immediately reaches for Bryson’s hand, and I feel a bewildering mix of emotions.
I’m happy she’s comfortable with Bryson, but I’m also weirdly feeling left out. Like Harper might prefer the man whose personality matches her own. I know it’s ridiculous, but it’s primal and impossible to erase.
I’m also thinking I need to have another talk with Harper about stranger danger. I did introduce Bryson as a friend, but maybe she should ask me before leading a man she just met into the woods.
Which is also silly.
I’m a mess.
“Bryson,” my father says, extending his hand, my mother on one side, Asher on the other. “Nice of you to finally show up around here.”
Bryson can’t quite manage to swallow the smile he’s been wearing since Harper took his hand. “I’m going to do better. I’m sorry for what I did to you and your family. I’m going to make it up to you.”
Dad squeezes Bryson’s hand hard enough that Bryson winces. “You will or you’ll be talking to me. And I have friends who know how to make a body disappear.”
