Written across the top of the picture was “Lucas.” I chuckled at the brown crayon spikes that she gave me for hair and boxy jeans she colored in for me. What I read at the bottom made a lump form in the base of my throat so large, I found it hard to breathe for a minute.
“Lucas is the best. He never yells and takes me to swim and for ice cream. We watch princess movies and play games. I like it when he is at my house.”
When I was about ten, right before my father got sick, Mom took Jessica and me to visit him at work. He had pictures that we had drawn or colored hung all across his wall. I asked him why he hung them up instead of awards like we saw in other offices that day. He told me the best thing he ever did was have two great kids that loved him so much. I never quite understood what he meant—until now.
“Could I …” I was choked up and couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Keep them? Sure. I bet Bella would like to hear how much you liked her pictures.” Joanne nodded and walked away.
I stared at the drawings in my hand, and could hear my sister saying, “See, I told you that you got too close,” but there was no going back for me. Bella had changed me as much as I changed her. I liked it when I was home with them, too, and I wished I never had to leave.
Bella rushed over to me with a big smile on her face.
“Lucas! Mrs. Nelson said she gave you my pictures! See! One is you and me, and one is just you. Your hair isn’t really brown, so I put yellow in it, too.”
I laughed and knelt down to look her in the eyes. “You did a great job! Mrs. Nelson said I could take them both home so I can hang them up. I think one will go in my apartment and one will go in my office.”
Bella’s eyes opened wide. “You like them that much?”
I nodded. “Of course I do. You made them!” Bella tackled me with a bear hug, and I gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“I’m so happy you came!”
“Me, too, Butterfly.”
* * *
At the endof the night, Bella was quiet as we left the school and I strapped her into the car. She still hadn’t said anything as we drove away.
“What’s the matter, Butterfly? Didn’t you have fun?”
“Yes.” I could barely hear her. I didn’t know what could have happened. She was having a great time until right before we left.
“You’re gonna leave.”
“What? Who told you that?”
“Sarah. She said you’re not my real dad and you’re gonna leave. And I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to be sad.”
We pulled into Sam’s driveway, and I got into the back seat next to her. I studied the fallen expression on her face. I wanted to see the happy little girl who belted out her favorite song and ran around with her friends.
“Do you know why I call you ‘Butterfly’?” I asked as I tucked a piece of hair around her ear.
“Yeah, because I like butterflies.”
“That’s not the only reason. When I was a kid, I used to love to chase butterflies, especially the really pretty and colorful ones. I didn’t see many since I lived in the city like you do, but when I saw one, it always made me happy. And that’s how I feel every time I see you. Happy.” I kissed her forehead. “That’s why I’m not going anywhere.” The corners of her mouth turned up into a smile.
“Am I pretty like a butterfly?”
“You’re the prettiest butterfly I know. Now let’s get inside before Mommy starts to worry about us.” I pointed to my cheek, and she gave me a kiss.
I unbuckled her from her seat, and she raised her arms for me to pick her up. Poor thing was exhausted from all the dancing. She wrapped her arms around my neck and buried her head in my shoulder.
When I wasn’t looking, Bella had flown right into my heart—and no matter what happened, she would never leave.
Twenty-Three
Samantha
