Pocketful of Sand
Page 42
Emmy seemed to notice the quiet when we first got here, but she’s lying on the living room floor, coloring happily now. We played a game and read a story, so determined was I that she not notice his absence. Or my reaction to it. Whatever else happens in my life, it’s imperative that Emmy not be affected by it. And the melancholy I’m fighting has me wondering if having Cole in our lives was such a good idea.
It’s too late now, though, and the thought of giving him up is becoming increasingly distasteful.
I’m sitting quietly in the chair, watching my daughter draw and listening to her hum, when she throws down her crayon and climbs to her feet. She races the short distance to me and throws herself into my arms. She puts her little hands on either of my cheeks and squeezes, giving me “fish face” as she loves to do.
She’s smiling at me when she observes, “You laughed a lot today, Momma.”
“I did?”
“Uh-huh.” The expression on her face is that of someone who has uncovered a wonderful secret. “You like him, don’t you?”
Hmmm. How to answer that carefully…
“I think he’s very nice. Don’t you?”
She nods enthusiastically. “He makes good French toast. And he dances funny.”
She wrinkles her nose and I do the same, nodding in agreement. “He does, doesn’t he?”
Emmy giggles. “But I like it.”
“I do, too.”
“He makes you happy, right?”
“You make me happy,” I skirt.
“But he could make you happy if I’m not here, right?”
“Nothing could make me happy if you weren’t here. I love you too much, doodle bug.”
Her smile melts into a disappointed face. “But you’d try, right?”
I try not to make a big deal of her odd questions and her concern with my happiness. I figure it has to have something to do with her emotional scars from what happened. I don’t even pretend to know the way a child’s mind works, but it worries me when she starts this stuff.
“Emmy, why do you worry about me being happy without you?”
“Because I might not always be here.”
“What makes you think that?”
She shrugs, letting her hands fall away from my face to rest on my chest. “Sometimes angels go to heaven. And you said I’m an angel.”
“You’re my angel, but that doesn’t mean you’ll go to heaven anytime soon. Most of the time, God lets mommas and daddys keep their angels for a long, long time.”
As she ponders this, she pooches her lips out over and over, like she’s kissing. “But Mr. Danzer didn’t get to keep his angel.”
“No. But you shouldn’t let that worry you, sweetie. I’m here. I’ll keep you safe.”
I know I shouldn’t make promises I can’t keep, but as long as I’m alive and able, I will keep her safe. And I’m hoping my promise will ease her mind. Emmy has enough to deal with in her life without worrying about death and what will happen to her mother if she were to die.
Just letting that thought drift through my mind is enough to clog my throat and tie my stomach in knots.
I push aside my rising emotion and send a comically suspicious sidelong glance at my daughter. “Is this a stall tactic? Are you trying to get out of taking a bath?”
“No,” she answers. And I don’t think for a second that this had anything to do with her bath, but I need to take her mind off it.
I dance my fingers down her sides, eliciting a squeal. “Are you suuure?”
“I’m suuure!” she laughs, trying to wiggle away from my tickling fingers.
“I didn’t hear you.”
“I’m sure!” she says again through her smiling lips.
“I guess the only way to prove it is to get this little body in the tub. Let’s go, little miss,” I say, scooping her up into my arms. “And then…ice cream!”
Her eyes widen. I try not to let her eat after her bath, and I control her sugar intake as much as I can, but tonight…well, tonight I think maybe ice cream is a good idea.
I didn’t hear from Cole last night. Now, it’s time for Emmy’s bath again, yet I still haven’t heard from him. I’ve picked up the cell phone at least a dozen times, thinking I’d text him, just to see if he got the water heater fixed. But I don’t. I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours telling myself that maybe it’s for the best if I don’t hear from him again. I can’t decide if it’s a good thing or a bad thing for Emmy.
On the one hand, she seems to really like him. From that first day on the beach, she seems as taken with him, as inexplicably drawn to him as I am. Only in a different way, of course. Even though she hasn’t talked in front of him other than to call to me that first morning, she’s opening up around him, and that makes my heart soar with happiness. Plus, she seems to be fixated on me being happy with someone in life. Maybe that’s a natural concern for a child, but I think she’s a bit young to be getting started with thoughts like that.
But despite those positives, I worry that if she gets too attached to him and things don’t work out between us, she’ll be crushed. And she’s been hurt enough by the men in her life. I don’t want to risk scarring her further.
Maybe if Cole does call me back, I should have a talk with him about boundaries. Maybe I should have a talk with myself about boundaries.
It’s too late now, though, and the thought of giving him up is becoming increasingly distasteful.
I’m sitting quietly in the chair, watching my daughter draw and listening to her hum, when she throws down her crayon and climbs to her feet. She races the short distance to me and throws herself into my arms. She puts her little hands on either of my cheeks and squeezes, giving me “fish face” as she loves to do.
She’s smiling at me when she observes, “You laughed a lot today, Momma.”
“I did?”
“Uh-huh.” The expression on her face is that of someone who has uncovered a wonderful secret. “You like him, don’t you?”
Hmmm. How to answer that carefully…
“I think he’s very nice. Don’t you?”
She nods enthusiastically. “He makes good French toast. And he dances funny.”
She wrinkles her nose and I do the same, nodding in agreement. “He does, doesn’t he?”
Emmy giggles. “But I like it.”
“I do, too.”
“He makes you happy, right?”
“You make me happy,” I skirt.
“But he could make you happy if I’m not here, right?”
“Nothing could make me happy if you weren’t here. I love you too much, doodle bug.”
Her smile melts into a disappointed face. “But you’d try, right?”
I try not to make a big deal of her odd questions and her concern with my happiness. I figure it has to have something to do with her emotional scars from what happened. I don’t even pretend to know the way a child’s mind works, but it worries me when she starts this stuff.
“Emmy, why do you worry about me being happy without you?”
“Because I might not always be here.”
“What makes you think that?”
She shrugs, letting her hands fall away from my face to rest on my chest. “Sometimes angels go to heaven. And you said I’m an angel.”
“You’re my angel, but that doesn’t mean you’ll go to heaven anytime soon. Most of the time, God lets mommas and daddys keep their angels for a long, long time.”
As she ponders this, she pooches her lips out over and over, like she’s kissing. “But Mr. Danzer didn’t get to keep his angel.”
“No. But you shouldn’t let that worry you, sweetie. I’m here. I’ll keep you safe.”
I know I shouldn’t make promises I can’t keep, but as long as I’m alive and able, I will keep her safe. And I’m hoping my promise will ease her mind. Emmy has enough to deal with in her life without worrying about death and what will happen to her mother if she were to die.
Just letting that thought drift through my mind is enough to clog my throat and tie my stomach in knots.
I push aside my rising emotion and send a comically suspicious sidelong glance at my daughter. “Is this a stall tactic? Are you trying to get out of taking a bath?”
“No,” she answers. And I don’t think for a second that this had anything to do with her bath, but I need to take her mind off it.
I dance my fingers down her sides, eliciting a squeal. “Are you suuure?”
“I’m suuure!” she laughs, trying to wiggle away from my tickling fingers.
“I didn’t hear you.”
“I’m sure!” she says again through her smiling lips.
“I guess the only way to prove it is to get this little body in the tub. Let’s go, little miss,” I say, scooping her up into my arms. “And then…ice cream!”
Her eyes widen. I try not to let her eat after her bath, and I control her sugar intake as much as I can, but tonight…well, tonight I think maybe ice cream is a good idea.
I didn’t hear from Cole last night. Now, it’s time for Emmy’s bath again, yet I still haven’t heard from him. I’ve picked up the cell phone at least a dozen times, thinking I’d text him, just to see if he got the water heater fixed. But I don’t. I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours telling myself that maybe it’s for the best if I don’t hear from him again. I can’t decide if it’s a good thing or a bad thing for Emmy.
On the one hand, she seems to really like him. From that first day on the beach, she seems as taken with him, as inexplicably drawn to him as I am. Only in a different way, of course. Even though she hasn’t talked in front of him other than to call to me that first morning, she’s opening up around him, and that makes my heart soar with happiness. Plus, she seems to be fixated on me being happy with someone in life. Maybe that’s a natural concern for a child, but I think she’s a bit young to be getting started with thoughts like that.
But despite those positives, I worry that if she gets too attached to him and things don’t work out between us, she’ll be crushed. And she’s been hurt enough by the men in her life. I don’t want to risk scarring her further.
Maybe if Cole does call me back, I should have a talk with him about boundaries. Maybe I should have a talk with myself about boundaries.
