“You’re engaged?” I don’t know why it hurts, but in the middle of my chest, a twinge of pain creeps across myheart.
“We’re getting married inJune.”
“That’s only a few months away,” I say, but he shakes hishead.
“Next June. It’s a long engagement.” An odd look passes over his face. I can’t place it for certain, but to me it looks like confusion. “She says there’s a lot to do. Big affair. She’s verytraditional.”
Of course she is. Ten bucks says she’s blond. Long hair. Tall. Skin like porcelain. Face like apainting.
“Congratulations.” I murmur. It’s what I’m supposed tosay.
Isaac looks down at the ground and laughs, but the sound is empty. “Thanks.”
I curl my feet beneath me and scoot on the swing until I’m pressed against the far corner ofit.
“So, what now?” I ask. Might as well get right to it. No need for pleasantries. Nowhat have you been up to in the past fiveyears.
“Can I see her?” Isaac asks, his facehopeful.
“Now, oralways?”
“Both.”
I nod and unfold my legs, standing. “She’s asleep, but you can look in ather.”
He follows me into the house. I lead him down the hall to Claire’s room, which is across from mine. It used to be my dad’s office, but he’s never complained about theloss.
A big, oversize letterChangs from a pink ribbon on her door. Gently I turn the handle and push, then step aside so Isaac canenter.
He pauses in the doorway and looks back at me. He reaches for my hand, pulling me until I’m beside him. His eyes find Claire in her bed, her broken arm propped up on an extra pillow. His face takes on a peaceful quality I know well. Looking at Claire does that to me,too.
He turns his head, and his eyes meet mine. He squeezes my hand. Our faces are only six inches apart, and even though I don’t know Isaac any better than I did that night, I feel like Ido.
I’m so conflicted right now. I know Isaac deserves to know his daughter. I know Claire deserves to know him. But I want to keep her all to myself in a place where I can protect her. I want all of her bedtime snuggles and Eskimokisses.
And the tough reality is that she no longer belongs to onlyme.
If I don’t stop eatingthis ice cream,caramel cookiesomething or other, I’m going to besick.
Doesn’t really matter though. I’m a little sick right nowanyway.
If Jenna wakes up and sees me with this tub in my hand, she’s going to be appalled. My nervous eating bothersher.
But first I’d have to confess why I’m standing here in my kitchen with a half-gallon of ice cream in one hand and a spoon in theother.
Jenna, I have adaughter.
No, I didn’t know about her. Not untiltoday.
It happened five years ago. Right before I left for Africa. One night. One hour,actually.
One hour of Aubrey. Broken, sad Aubrey, who only wanted to forget about herpain.
I did that for her. Made her forget. I made her eyes roll back in her head, her back arch, her legs stiffen. Her dark hair fanned out on my white sheets, an incredible contrast. Her lips swollen, because I could hardly move my mouth from hers, even when I knew the clock was ticking. When I kissed Aubrey, my whole world feltright.And on that night, the night I found out everything I grew up believing waswrong,Aubrey filled avoid.
But then she left an even bigger hole. I watched her go, and I wanted to stop her. We’d had an agreement, and she made her choice. I took from her, she took from me, and when I let her slip out my door, we had no idea what we’dcreated.
I’m not sure how Jenna’s going to takeit.
