Everything was all at once familiar and strange. The little bench they used to keep for Sara to put on her shoes was no longer there. In its place was a mat. A set of men’s running shoes was neatly placed in the middle. They would be Jim’s.
Out of habit, he slipped off his shoes and placed them next to Jim’s, taking small, hesitant steps toward the kitchen. “How’s Jim? He’s not home?”
Sheila sat at a small dining table, surrounded by papers. “He’s fine. He’s at a conference this weekend. Come on in, Daniel. I have coffee.” She moved aside a few stacks. “Sorry, I have to get these charts done before surgery tomorrow.”
“What do you have?” He sat down across from her.
“Back-to-back-to-back cataracts.” She smiled. She and Daniel had always loved talking about medicine. Jim was an ophthalmologist, as well. Daniel could only assume their conversations were interesting. “Want some coffee?”
“Sure.”
Sheila locked eyes with him as she stood. Daniel understood in that instant why she had called him. He clenched his jaw as blood rushed to his head and his ears pounded.
“You’re pregnant.” He spit the accusation out from in between his teeth, unable to even open his mouth. He grazed over her swollen belly with an experienced eye. “Like, five, six months.”
Sheila swallowed hard and went to fetch the coffee. Her hand shook as she placed the mug in front him. “Yes. I’m due end of March. I wanted to tell you in person.” She looked down at him, blue eyes hesitant.
Daniel’s grip around his coffee mug became dangerous for the ceramic. The heat from the liquid pressed into his hands. This was what she had wanted. A couple of years after Sara died, Sheila started talking about having another baby. Daniel had been beside himself. There was no way to replace Sara. She was one of a kind. You couldn’t have another child like you got another puppy.
Sheila had insisted that she wasn’t replacing Sara, just moving forward, but Daniel had remained adamant. No more children.
“I guess you got what you wanted.” Daniel’s voice was harsh.
“I was hoping you would be happy. A child is...”
“You can’t replace Sara,” Daniel growled.
Tears shimmered in her eyes. “I’m not trying to replace her. No one could ever replace our angel...”
“Damn right.” Daniel slammed down the mug, sloshing coffee onto the table, splashing her charts. He stood so abruptly he nearly knocked over his chair. He turned and headed for the door.
“Daniel.” Sheila grabbed his arm to stop him. “Daniel, we were going to ask you to be the baby’s godfather.”
“You—what?” He shook his head, threw his hands up in the air and then down again, violently. “I’m no one’sfatheranymore!” His voice was harsher than he’d intended, but the thought of being anyone’s any kind of father—no. He couldn’t do it. “And I never will be.”
“Fine. But you need to find a way to deal with this.” She swallowed hard.
“I deal with it,” he snapped.
“By what? Working twenty hours a day? Drinking?”
“I haven’t had a drink since before we divorced. You know that.”
Her gaze faltered a bit. “That doesn’t mean you’ve dealt with this.”
“Listen, just because you married Mr. Stable and forgot about Sara, doesn’t mean that I have to.”
“Forgot? How dare you?” Sheila was almost growling. “She was my daughter, too. I lost her the same as you. You think I don’t think about her every day? That I don’t miss her? Every. Damn. Day?” Her voice cracked and her eyes refilled with tears.
“I don’t know, Sheila, you tell me. You’re the one having a replacement baby.” He regretted the words the instant he said them, but the wound on her face told him he could never take it back.
“Get out.” Her calm was more threatening than any scream could be. “Get out, you bastard, and don’t come back.”
Daniel stormed toward the door, stepped into his shoes and left, slamming the door behind him, not looking back.
He tore out of the neighborhood on his bike and stopped at the first liquor store he found.
Daniel parked his bike, grabbed the brown bag and took off his helmet. Someone was exiting the building, so he didn’t have to buzz up and risk rejection. His brain whirred with images of Sara and Sheila, and his ears echoed with Sheila’s guttural “Get out!” Maybe he was out of line, but he couldn’t accept her replacing their daughter. And he certainly wouldn’t be anyone’s godfather. He just couldn’t.
