Crossing Oceans

  “You know what I want.”

  “Why would you try to take her from me?”

  He looked at me questioningly as if he honestly didn’t know what I was talking about.

  With his flagrant attempt to deceive me, anger instantly sealed the breach in my wall. “Ted told me you’re filing for custody.”

  He snorted in disgust. “Can’t live in Talkytown without the world knowing your every move.”

  I shook my head at him . . . and at myself for almost believing that he actually cared. “You’re a piece of work.”

  “What choice are you giving me?”

  We stood silent before one another, David staring at me, while I stared at a bowing dandelion in the yard. If it weren’t for the tapping of a woodpecker in the distance, the silence would have been deafening.

  “If anyone should be mad, it’s me,” David finally said. “When were you going to tell me that you were dying? before or after Isabella showed up on my doorstep with her suitcases?”

  I peered at him. “She won’t be showing up on your doorstep.”

  “You need me to raise her.”

  “No, David, I don’t. I don’t need you to do anything.”

  “You’re not putting my child into some kind of foster care.”

  “Mama Peg and my dad are going to raise her.”

  His mouth gaped and he turned toward the front door as if wanting to ask it, Can you believe her? He turned back to me. “Your grandmother probably has less time than you do.”

  “My father should be around to see her to adulthood.”

  His cheeks and neck mottled. “She’s my child. My child!”

  My gaze shot to the window. “Keep your voice down. She’s inside.”

  His fists were balled at his sides, his lips pressed so tightly that they disappeared. He glared at me, all signs of fury barely contained. I wondered if Lindsey ever made him this angry or if I alone had that effect. The thought gave me a sense of power over him that I’d never had when we were dating.

  “I will be raising her after you’re gone,” he said.

  David never had learned to come at me from the side where I could be safely approached. If he had broken down and told me he loved her, or that he was sorry for hurting me, or that being a father scared the daylights out of him, or anything that made him vulnerable—human, like me—I would have softened and things could have been amicable between us. Instead, he charged at me head-on, declaring that this was a battle only one of us could win.

  “I’m her father. I have rights.”

  “You’re nothing more than a sperm donor.”

  “You made me that.”

  “You threw a child who had almost drowned into a pool.”

  He yanked at the knot of his silk tie. “This again? I said I was sorry. How many times do I have to say it? I’m sorry, Jenny. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so stinking sorry!”

  “You never said you were sorry, but you certainly are.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

  I knew I shouldn’t have said what I had but figured if I apologized, he’d just throw my line back at me. I studied the polish chipping off my big toe.

  With his index finger, David pushed my chin up so I’d have to look him in the eye. “I’m not the reason she’s terrified of water. If that’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours. She was under your care, not mine, when she nearly drowned. And it’s your fault I wasn’t around for her. She’s mine and I will get her.”

  I smacked his hand away from my face. “She’s not a possession. That little girl may look like you, but she’s all me. If you hate me, you might hate her. I can’t die without knowing that she’ll be okay. Without knowing if everything she does makes you as mad as I do. Not knowing if you’re going to get sick of her one day like you did me.”

  Despite my anger, despite wanting to be strong and not give him the satisfaction of seeing me upset yet again, tears came.

  His expression softened and he placed his hand on my wet cheek. “Jenny, I don’t hate you and I didn’t get sick of you. We just weren’t right for each other. Lindsey and I—”

  I turned from his touch. “You’re no father, David.”

  His expression hardened once again. “Unfortunately, I am.”

  Unfortunately?

  His eyes grew wide. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  I glared at him.

  “Why does everything with you have to be so dramatic?” He looked over my shoulder, eyeing the front door. “I want to see her.”

  I stepped to the side, blocking his entrance. “We can discuss visitation later.”

  “Visitation?” He laughed. “Oh, I’m getting more than just visitation. She’s my daughter as much as she is yours.”

  “No,” I said. “Not as much.”

  “My dad says you’ll be lucky to make it through the summer. She needs parents. Lindsey wants to be a mother. I want to know my daughter. What’s the problem? I’ll let her stay with you until you’re gone, but we need to start transitioning her to a life with Lindsey and me.”

  My daughter having a life without me was something I’d begun to come to terms with, but the thought of her calling another woman Mommy made my jealousy over David dim in its glaring light. But my resistance to letting them have her wasn’t due to jealousy. It really wasn’t. It was simply wanting the best for her. “You can have visitation, but she’s going to be raised by my family. My mind’s made up.”

  He grabbed my arm. I tried to pull away, but his fingers only tightened. “You unmake it, Genevieve. I’m trying to be fair, but if you want to play hardball, you know I’ll win. I always do.”

  My cheeks grew hot enough to fry bacon. “She’s not a trophy. She’s my daughter.”

  “Save your platitudes. You either start making me out to be the good guy in her eyes and let Lindsey and me start keeping her some so it’s not such a shock when you die, or I’ll force you to do it. You know that my dad and Judge Hendrickson practically shared a crib. That’s who’d get the case, you know. Force my hand and you’ll lose her now.”

  “You wouldn’t.” Even as I said it, I knew that he would.

  “Lindsey and I will be by to pick her up tomorrow at nine. You have her ready, Jenny, or so help me—”

  “Don’t you threaten me.”

  “It’s a threat I intend to make good on.”

  “Get off my porch.”

  “Nine o’clock, Lucas. You have her ready.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Soft rays of moonlight ignited the mist rising above Lucas Lake, making it appear enchanted. Standing on the dock in my bare feet, I pressed my toes against the smooth, timeworn wood and gazed out over the water. A warm breeze combed through the hair draped over my shoulders and caused my skirt to flutter against my ankles. From a distance I must have looked surreal standing there—like a fairy-tale maiden waiting for her lover to return from some ill-fated quest . . . and like her, I felt completely lost and alone.

  I wondered whether—if I prayed hard enough, hoped intensely enough—maybe, just maybe, Jesus might walk on water once again. As the full moon cast a perfect path of gold over the lake, I could almost imagine Him moving along it toward me, arms outstretched—ready to lead me far, far away from the worries of tomorrow. Then it dawned on me that someday soon, He really would.

  I looked over my shoulder at the house and thought I glimpsed Isabella’s bedroom curtain twitching. The longer I stared at it though, the more convinced I became that it was just my imagination. As I turned back, I noticed how silent the night stood. The uncanny quiet made the squeal of the back door opening sound like an ax crashing through tranquility. I did not turn to see whose company I would soon be in. Maybe if I ignored whoever it was, I’d be left alone to sort out the labyrinth of emotions and questions I was lost within.

  David would be at my doorstep tomorrow morning, and still I couldn’t decide whether I should let Bella go with him or risk a court battle. If I
gave in, was it out of worry that I’d lose my daughter completely? I couldn’t let fear be the motivator. Couldn’t let it cloud my mind—not with so much at stake. But if I refused to let her go, was it because I honestly thought he would hurt her? Or was it, as Mama Peg suggested, my way of getting even with him for rejecting me? I didn’t think so, but doubts still lingered.

  I yearned to do what was right. I wanted that so much. The decisions I made now would be written in ink, not pencil. If I made the wrong decision and David turned out to be as fickle with my little girl as he had been with me—loving her one moment, indifferent the next—I wouldn’t be around to set things right.

  Ignoring errant strands of hair that tickled my cheeks and neck, I closed my eyes, letting the warm air stroke my face . . . and prayed. I prayed for clarity. I prayed for grace. Mostly, I prayed that I would make the right decision for my daughter, regardless of what it would cost me.

  Strong hands grasped my waist, startling me. I turned and found myself nose to nose with Craig. A hint of the red wine he had sipped over dinner still lingered on his breath. I waited for him to say something, but he simply kept his hands planted on my sides as though we were getting ready to share a dance. “You look like an angel in this light.”

  I gently pulled away from him and felt myself blush. “Thanks.”

  He took my hand and lifted it to his face, brushing my palm against the scruff on his cheek. His eyes riveted on me, he leaned into my touch. It was at that moment it really hit me just how intensely Craig had begun to feel for me. The depth of emotion etched on his face caught me completely off guard. I had no more clue what to do with Craig than what to do about David.

  I withdrew my hand, walked to the edge of the dock, and sat. Pushing myself forward until my toes dipped below the surface of the tepid water, I half hoped he’d sit next to me and half hoped he’d go back in and leave me to my misery.

  His arm brushed my elbow as he sat beside me. He curled his fingers around mine and laid our conjoined hands on his leg. I did nothing to encourage or resist. I simply stared at the lake.

  A breeze rippled the surface, dispersing my golden road. Replacing it were tiny flickers of moonlight, which resembled hundreds of fireflies dancing near the water’s edge.

  Craig turned to me. “What are you thinking about?”

  I told him.

  He followed my line of vision. “You’ve got quite an imagination.”

  I took the opportunity to study him while he looked away. His hair appeared a pleasant reddish blond under the light of the orange moon, his expression contemplative. “What are you thinking?” I asked.

  He looked down as though he’d been exposed. After a few seconds he glanced up at me. “Honestly?”

  Regretting the question, I nodded.

  “About when to try and kiss you.”

  I tried to decide how best to respond. “Craig, I—”

  He barricaded the rest of my sentence against his lips. Just for a moment I tasted the possibilities that would exist if I weren’t dying. Feeling warm and chilled at the same time, I yanked back.

  He grinned at me like a child.

  My heart pounded. “Don’t do that again.”

  His smile remained. “Oh, I’m going to.”

  Before I could object, he made good on his promise. The moment he leaned in for the kiss, I turned, giving him a mouthful of hair.

  He grunted. “You played the hard-to-get thing already, Jenny. This is the part of the story where the guy should get the girl.”

  I slipped my hand from his and kicked at the water. “What am I going to do?”

  “First, you’re going to let me kiss you.”

  I gave him my best I’m-in-no-mood-to-play look. “About David. He’s coming tomorrow to pick her up.”

  He studied me. “And this is bad?”

  “He’s no father.”

  I didn’t have to see the look on his face to know it was one of disapproval. His tone made his feelings perfectly clear. “Because of the pool?”

  My face grew warm. “Yes, because of the pool.”

  “Easy, I’m just asking.”

  “Did I sound upset?”

  “Every time someone mentions David, you sound upset.”

  I dipped my toes in the water, watching them poke up and disappear again. After what I thought was an adequate silent intermission, I changed the subject. “So how’s business?”

  “Wow. That had to be the worst segue ever. If you were an anchorwoman, you’d be so fired.”

  I drew my feet out of the water and wrapped my arms around my bent knees. The breeze died, causing the surface of the lake to become as smooth as a mirror. My path of gold was back, leading right to where Craig and I sat. Could it be an omen from God? If so, I failed to comprehend the significance.

  Craig pushed his shoulder playfully into mine. “Okay, you want a change of subject, you got it. Business is great. I probably need to hire another guy or two to keep up.”

  I tried to sound enthusiastic. “That’s great.”

  “Yeah, but I’ll tell you, the responsibility of having nearly a dozen guys under me kind of freaks me out.” He unfastened his sandal strap. The rip of Velcro must have sent frogs diving because a half-dozen plops followed. He slipped his sandals off and lowered his feet into the water. “Knowing that these guys are depending on me for their bread and butter is overwhelming. More than half of them are married with kids. If I mess up, they’re out of jobs. No job, no food, you know?”

  I put my feet back into the lake and nodded.

  Craig drifted ever closer to me until our hips touched. He slid his shin under my calf and rubbed his foot against mine. Feeling exceedingly self-conscious, I studied the design on my T-shirt.

  “I guess being a mom, you know all about responsibility.”

  Did I ever.

  His big toe traced mine. “You ever mess up really bad with Bella?”

  I thought about it a moment. “Oh yeah.”

  He gave me a half smile encouraging me to tell.

  “Okay, but you’re not allowed to think I’m horrible.”

  He grinned. “Too late.”

  “Okay, when Bella was an infant, she had colic. She screamed nonstop for hours every night. I had a baby swing that was too big for her, but it was the only thing that would quiet her. The straps were way too long. She would fall sideways if I didn’t prop her up real good with rolled-up blankets. Anyway, besides the swing, I thought maybe we’d both get some relief if I Ferberized her.”

  Craig looked lost.

  “You know, not pick her up right away when she cried. You’re supposed to wait five minutes before going to comfort the crying child, then ten, and so on until they sleep through the night kinda thing.”

  “That sounds harsh.”

  I shrugged. “You’d think differently if you were the one listening to it. Anyway, I was desperate. I’d have dipped myself in gold paint and mimed a lullaby for her if I thought it would have helped.”

  Craig chuckled.

  “So,” I continued, “she starts crying in her swing. I’m in the kitchen and decide I’m not going to get her right away this time. And so I watch the clock, listening to her scream her head off for the longest five minutes of my life. Finally I go into the living room, and . . .” I paused as my stomach clenched and shame filled me. “She had slipped down under the tray. The straps had caught under her armpits and she was being swung from the outside of the swing.”

  Craig let out a bray of laughter, but I did not.

  He looked at me. “Oh, c’mon. That’s funny.”

  I understood how he found humor in it, but I still couldn’t. “The strap could have just as easily caught her throat,” I said. “I could have killed my daughter just like that.”

  He stopped laughing and laid his arm across my shoulder. This time I leaned in and laid my head against him, taking in his warmth and familiar smell.

  “Jenny, we all make mistakes. Not a single one of us i
s perfect.”

  I noticed then that, though more muted than normal, the lake’s symphony was indeed playing. The frogs’ baritone voices spoke to each other, the crickets softly chirped, and I thought I could even hear the cattails whistling in a distant breeze. I wondered if it had been there all along and maybe my anxiety had managed to drown it out.

  “What time do you have to get Bella ready?” he asked.

  I turned to him in surprise. “I didn’t say she was going.”

  He gave me a perplexed look. “Why wouldn’t she?”

  I realized then what had taken place. He’d managed to get me to admit I was no better a parent than David. I wondered if it was by design and if there was any way to undo the conclusion now hanging in the air as blatantly as the moon. It was obvious that I could no longer use the pool incident to justify myself. Craig’s expression told me I had come to the conclusion he had wanted me to.

  “Clever boy,” I said without humor.

  “Clever man,” he responded with a wink.

  “I hate you.”

  “No, you don’t. You love me.”

  “Love’s a little strong.”

  Wriggling his eyebrows, he said, “It’s a lotta strong.”

  He leaned into me again. I felt his breath on my lips as he stared at me for the longest time. Hazel eyes hypnotized me as the anticipation of our kiss sent an unexpected thrill through me. The longer we paused, the more intense my desire grew. Finally I could stand it no more. I parted my lips and met his. A wave of longing washed over me so strong it stole my breath.

  His lips made their way from my mouth to my throat. I leaned my head back, reveling in his attentions. He devoured me and I wanted him to. I wanted to wrap myself around him. To be as close as humanly possible. I wanted him and it was obvious by the passion in his kiss that he wanted me too.

  As his hand softly traced my neck, I realized that I had faced a moment just like this one once before—and just like then, I had the choice to either succumb to temptation or flee. Without giving myself a chance to justify my weakness, I pushed him away and bolted up.