“I really am.” He nodded. “That’s why I was in prison.”
“Can I ask him now?” She looked at me. I nodded because I couldn’t speak, because my throat was clamped tight. I had told her the truth about her father, everything except for why he was in prison. That was for him to tell her. She deserved a clean slate with her father, and he deserved a chance to explain it to her in his own words. Maybe it was a cop out on my part, maybe it had been unfair to keep her in the dark, but that was as far as I was willing to go. She got into scuffles at school because the kids taunted her about the father she didn’t know, but she learned to stand her ground early on and if push came to shove, Sierra kicked ass. She was free-willed and strong, but she was just a little girl. My heart ached as she stood before her father, her hair just starting to grow out from the buzz cut.
“What did you do?” she asked.
Damian stared at his hands for a moment. “Bad things,” he said. “I hurt your mother. See this?” He picked up my pinky finger and held it up. “I did that. I was angry because someone hurt my mother. I thought getting even would make me feel better. For a while it did, but then it just hurt more.”
“Mama said it was an accident.” Sierra’s gaze was locked on our hands. Damian was still holding on to mine, like he needed me to get through this.
“In a way it was. I was going to do something much worse.” He tried to keep his voice steady, but I could feel his agony, his torment, at having to explain things to Sierra, unprepared and unrehearsed. There were no lawyers or judges now, just a father and daughter getting to know each other. When all the chips had fallen, it came down to real people and real moments, to repercussions that stretched far beyond the courts. Damian had served his time, but this was the stuff that really mattered.
“I wasn’t always a good person, Sierra,” he said. “I don’t know if I can ever be the kind of father you’d be proud of, but I hope you’ll let me try. Because you make me want to stop being abandido, and maybe someday . . . maybe someday I’ll be the hero that you and your mama deserve.”
Sierra’s eyes moved from Damian to me. I knew she was trying to process everything she’d learned. She walked over to the bed and traced my stubbed pinky. For a second all three of us focused on the point where our hands touched—Damian’s large, rough palm cradling ours. Something in me started cracking open, like a long-frozen surface bearing too much weight.
“Come on,” I said to Sierra. “Let me tuck you back in.”
She stopped at the door and looked back at Damian. “If she kissed you, it means she likes you.”
“Sierra!” I tugged her into her bedroom.
“I bet it hurt real bad,” she said as I slipped into bed with her. I needed to collect my thoughts before I faced Damian again.
“What?”
“This.” She entwined her perfect little finger with my damaged one and threw her leg over mine. Sierra was a sprawler. She slept claiming all the space she could.
“Sing to me,” she said, snuggling closer.
I didn’t know what was going through her head. Was she relieved to finally meet her father? Was she disturbed by what he’d done? Whatever her reaction, sleep didn’t elude her for too long. Children have the remarkable ability to digest, adapt, and take things in stride. Her arms slackened around me and her breath turned long and peaceful as I sang MaMaLu’s lullaby.
I breathed in her scent and closed my eyes, stroking her hair. She was my calm in the middle of chaos, a little piece of innocence untouched by the turbulence of the past. I didn’t know how Damian’s presence was going to affect our lives, but I knew things were going to change. I’d had her to myself for seven years and all I wanted to do was hold on to that moment for as long as I could, her cheek next to mine, the weight of her leg securing me from leaving.
A floorboard creaked in the room. I opened my eyes and froze. Damian was standing by the door. The expression on his face was so painfully intense, so filled with longing, that the words to the lullaby I was singing left me. It wasn’t the raw carnality with which he’d assaulted me earlier. It was much deeper, as if all of his happiness was contained in that one scene before him: Sierra sleeping beside me, while he stood at the threshold, cut off from it all.
A lifetime ago, it had been me, him and MaMaLu, curled up like this.
I didn’t have any words, and neither did he. He tried to say something, but his throat clenched, so he turned on his heel and left. A moment later, I heard the soft click of the door as he let himself out.
THE GATES TO CASA PALOMA were open. It looked vastly different from the last time I’d seen it, but I had no time to admire the changes. I marched up to the front door, surprised to find it was also unlocked.
Damian was in the study room, poring over some papers, when I barged in.
“What’s the meaning of this?” I waved my bank statement at him.
“Good morning to you too,” he said, without looking up.
Seeing him in the space I had always associated with my father was strange. Of course, my father had not been around much back then, and when he was, I knew better than to disturb him in the study. Damian did not seem the least bit perturbed by the intrusion. He let me fume for a few seconds before turning his attention to me.
“It’s for Sierra,” he said.
I almost wished he’d go back to his papers because he was looking at me like he’d been up all night, thinking about me, about what had almost happened the night before.
“And you didn’t think to check with me before making a deposit?”
He obviously had all kinds of information on me, including my bank account number. I’d blinked twice when I’d seen my balance, but the teller had assured me it was no mistake. Someone had transferred a small fortune into my account. Guilt money. Damian had seen where I lived. He knew how much I made, how much I paid the women in Valdemoros, and what I struggled with to make ends meet. It infuriated me that he didn’t think I wasn’t making enough. Sierra and I weren’t living in the lap of luxury, but how dare he make me feel like I wasn’t giving her the kind of life she deserved?
“She’s my daughter, Skye. The daughter you kept from me. I have a lot of years to make up for. You can expect a deposit every month, so get used to it.”
