As he jogged away, she couldn’t wipe the smile from her face.
Chapter Eight
The drive to the park took longer than Rita and Tyler had anticipated. Traffic was heavy, and the line of cars crept forward so slowly, they would’ve done better to get out and walk. The day was already hot, and Rita had the air cranked so high in the car, she could barely hear the radio over it.
“We might be late,” she said, glancing across at Tyler.
“It’s okay. I’ve texted Candy,” he said. “Cici will be on the playground while they wait. She loves the slide.”
“Cici? Is that what you call her?”
He smiled. “Everyone calls her that.”
“It’s cute,” Rita replied. Her heart thudded against her rib cage as she focused her attention back on the road. She was nervous to meet her first grandchild. A four-year-old! They’d already missed so much of her life. If only Candy had told them about the child when she was born, Rita might’ve helped out, babysat, spent time with Cici and gotten to know her. As it was, Rita was a stranger to her. The thought of that brought tears to her eyes, but she didn’t want to say anything to Tyler. He was dealing with his own disappointment about being shut out of his daughter’s life, and she could tell he was doing his best to make it right now that he knew.
She didn’t want to give the whole “This is what happens when you put the cart before the horse!” speech. He was dealing with the consequences. Her harping on it, or saying “I told you so,” wouldn’t help. All she could do now was to support him and love her new grandbaby.
Finally, they arrived. Rita waited by the car while Tyler strode across the playground and spoke with Candy. Candy looked up, and Rita gave a tentative wave. She hadn’t seen Tyler’s ex-girlfriend in years. It was strange, like traveling back in time, although Candy looked different now. She was older, her hair was darker and shorter, and she wore a pair of blue jeans with pink Crocs.
Then Rita held her breath as Tyler squatted beside a small child and spoke to her, a smile widening his lips. The little girl threw her arms around Tyler’s neck and hugged him tight. Rita pressed a hand to her mouth. She was so beautiful. Blonde ringlets bounced on her shoulders and her little legs pumped hard as she ran toward the swings, beckoning for Tyler to follow.
Rita thought her heart might burst. Tyler helped Cici onto the swings and began to push. In between, he beckoned Rita. She took a deep breath and walked carefully across the uneven playground. The last thing she wanted right now was to fall and break a hip.
When she reached Cici, Candy had arrived with a bottle of water. The girl reached for it and began sucking on the straw.
“Hello, Candy,” Rita said.
Candy shook her hand. “Nice to see you again, Rita.”
“It’s been a long time.”
“Yes, it has.” They were both acting strangely formal.
Rita turned her attention to the little girl who was watching her closely, water bottle straw still firmly planted between her lips.
Tyler squatted beside his daughter. “Hey, Cici. This is your…” He glanced at Rita with a question on his face. Somehow, they hadn’t had the conversation about what Rita would be called on their drive over here.
“Mema,” Rita quickly added. “I’m your mema.” It was what her grandmother on her mother’s side had been called, and what she’d always hoped her grandchildren might name her. She loved the idea of being a mema, and a flood of warmth lit up her soul at the sound of that one single word.
“Say hi to your mema,” Candy prompted the girl.
“Hi, Mema,” she whispered.
“Do you want to try out the slide?” Rita asked. “I love the slide.”
The girl nodded and took Rita’s hand with her tiny one. “Can you catch me at the bottom? It goes fast.”
Rita grinned. “Oh, honey, I’ll catch you if you’ll catch me.”
The girl’s eyes widened as she looked Rita up and down.
Rita laughed. “I’m only jokin', sugar pie. You’ll get used to it. Now, come on. Let’s get you up that ladder.”
Chapter Nine
Matilda couldn’t find Ozzie, their Australian shepherd puppy. He wasn’t really a puppy any longer, but he still acted like it, and when he was quiet, she worried what he was up to. He was a good dog in general, but he sometimes got up to mischief.
“Ozzie!” she called again, but there was no response. Definitely not a good sign. Maybe Ryan had let him out of the house that morning before work, although surely he’d have stayed in the yard.
