by V McFarlane
The house is in good condition at least, just outdated with a water heater that takes forever to heat and ancient radiators. The décor isn’t much better but really, I can’t complain about the price I’ve got for it.
Ava trots through the front door once I’ve unlocked it and darts straight for the living room, pulling out her colouring books and pens from beneath the coffee table. Whilst dinner cooks I scour the internet for a job, willing it to give me an updated list.
I had checked it yesterday and the day before that, but there’s been no change. I’ve applied for most of the vacancies listed already but no call backs so far. I’d like to say the panic hasn’t set in yet, but I’m just very good at hiding it. Just like most things in my life.
Three
Taron
It’s been a week since I took the DNA test, and in my hand, I hold the results.
It’s a match.
Ripley Baxter is my daughter.
I wonder if I can change her surname, but then, what if she wants to keep her moms name? I’m sure I could give her the option when she’s a little older.
Rhett leans on the door jam, slicing an apple with the hunters knife he keeps stashed on his belt buckle and cocks a brow.
“So, you’re a daddy now,” he comments with a grin, taking a slice of apple between his teeth.
“Shit,” I hiss, throwing the letter down on the desk. Along with the test results, the social worker, Alyssa – I remembered her name – has sent me Ripley’s file. A photo of the girl is attached to the brown file folder and I had stared at it for a long time when it was first delivered. Even without the results, there’s no doubt she’s my daughter. We share the same hair and eye colour and her features resemble mine uncannily.
My phone rings, I don’t need to check the I.D to know who it is.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Hello, Mr Cain, it’s Alyssa, Ripley’s social worker. Do you have a minute?”
Rhett watches me.
“Yes, I can talk.”
“I assume you received the files.”
“I did.”
“And?”
“She’s my daughter.” I reply.
“I see. Have you made your decision?”
I sigh. Yes. I’ve made my decision.
“When can I pick her up?”
Rhett’s brows shoot up to his hairline and his mouth falls open.
“That’s great news! We’ll actually like to do a meet first and then we can go from there?”
We arrange for a meeting at the local park here in town for Saturday and when I hang up, Rhett is still staring.
“Pull it together,” I snap, “We’ve got shit to do.”
And ain’t that the truth. I have a house to child proof and a schedule to sort. I have no space for a child, but I guess, it’s time to make one.
_
“How’d I look?” I ask Rhett.
“Like you’re going to a funeral.” He replies, standing in my kitchen, drinking my orange juice.
I look down at the black suit I’m wearing. Okay, maybe this is bit much. What do you wear when you’re meeting your kid for the first time?
“You’re going to the park, not the opera, put on some jeans and a t-shirt, you’ll be fine.”
“Easy for you to say,” I grumble, “You’re not the one who’s just found out you’ve got a five-year-old kid.”
“Six,” he corrects.
Oh, that’s right. She turned six last week.
I look down at the pink gift-wrapped stuffed bunny on the kitchen island. Rhett’s sister picked it out for her because I had no clue what to get.
The bedroom upstairs, the one down the hall from mine has been fully converted into a pink paradise for the girl. Again, Rhett’s sister.
I trudge back up the stairs and strip from the suit. This was a bad idea. I tug on a pair of Levi jeans and a black t-shirt, slipping my feet into my timbs before heading back down to the kitchen. I check my watch, we meet in twenty minutes.
Wiping my sweaty palms on my thighs, I grab the keys to the truck, Rhett following behind.
“You’re not coming,” I tell him, halting his pursuit.
“And why the hell not?” He hisses, “I want to meet my new niece.”
Rolling my eyes, I climb into the cab and roll down the window, “You can meet her when I bring her home.”
Rhett grumbles something but doesn’t say anything more as he jogs to his own car. I follow him out the long driveway towards the road back into town.
My nerves are shot, I don’t check properly when I pull out onto the road and a loud, blast of a horn shatters the silence of my cab. I turn to see an old, rusted heap of shit car barrelling towards me, the tyres screeching as it comes to a stop.
There’s a somewhat familiar blonde behind the wheel, glaring at me through the windscreen.
I shrug my shoulders, waving a hand like it was her fault which earns me a swift middle finger. Chuckling, I press on the gas and head into town.
The jeep is still behind me when I pull up and park next to the playground. A woman in a suit is sat on a bench, watching a girl playing just ahead of her. Swallowing hard, I kill the engine and climb out, checking for cars before jogging across the street.
The woman stands when she hears the metal of the gate creak as I open it and offers me a small smile.
“Alyssa, I assume?” I ask, shaking her outstretched hand.
“Correct, and you’re Mr Cain?”
“Taron,” I offer, turning my attention to the girl who’s ceased her swinging to look at me. Her hair is longer now than when that picture was taken, soft black that falls down her back in subtle waves. A little pink ribbon has been tied in her hair and those hazel eyes stare back at me, so similar to my own, it’s startling. She has a round face and rosy cheeks.
“Ripley,” Alyssa calls out, “there’s someone here I’d like you to meet.”
My stomach knots as the girl jumps down from the swings and sheepishly shuffles towards us, looking at me through a set of thick, black lashes.
“This here, is Taron,” Alyssa gently holds her shoulder, “You’re going to be staying with him from now on.”
“But what about mommy?” She asks, her voice so soft I barely hear it.
Alyssa smiles sympathetically, “Ripley, honey, we’ve talked about this.”
Ripley pouts, her eyes beginning to glisten.
My gut twists and with a deep breath, I crouch down in front of her, cocking my head to the side.
“Hi,” I say gently.
She turns her face away from me and mumbles a hello.
I have no experience with kids. I have no siblings and my circle of friends don’t have any children either. I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.
“Mommy can’t be here,” I tell her, as tenderly as I can, “But do you know who I am?”
The girl shakes her head.
I smile.
“I’m your dad, Ripley.”
“You are?” Her eyes widen.
“I am,” I nod with a smile on my face I hadn’t realised was there, “would you like to come stay with me? I have a big house on a ranch, there’s some horses there too, even some ponies. Do you like ponies? Maybe we can find one just for you.”
She nods enthusiastically.
“Me too, maybe we can go riding, would you like that?”
“I can have a pony?” She asks with a sparkle in her eye.
Chuckling, I nod, “Of course, I already know just the one you can have.”
Alyssa has taken a step back, her hand across her mouth as her eyes glisten.
“So, what’d you say?” I ask, “Wanna come live with me?”
Ripley grins, causing two dimples to pop in her cheeks and then she throws herself at me like a mini tornado. Arms wrap around my neck and I have to put one arm out to stop myself from falling flat on my back.
“Yes!” She squeals.
The rattle of an engine pulls my attention
from the girl still clutching my neck. I see that rusted old jeep pulling up in the space behind mine. I continue to watch as the blonde climbs from the driver’s side and that familiarity slams against me.
The woman from the park.
She’s in a flowing blue dress today, her hair tied loosely at the base of her neck. Her eyes lock on mine, those brows furrowing in thought as she takes in the kid hanging off me like a monkey and the woman stood next to me, watching it all unfold.
I keep my eyes on her as she climbs back into the car and pulls away.
Who is she, exactly?
Four
Taron
The process of moving Ripley into the ranch house was quicker than I had anticipated but thankfully I was prepared. The fridge is stocked full of food and her room filled with toys and dolls and teddy bears.
I stand in the kitchen with Rhett, Della, his sister, and even my dad travelled from California to meet his new Granddaughter.
“They’re late,” I say, looking at the watch around my wrist which tells me its five past eleven. They’re only five minutes late but late, nonetheless.
“Stop fussing,” Della tuts, “Traffic was probably bad.”
I press my tongue to insides of my teeth and tap my thumb against the marble counter in the kitchen, watching the long driveway in the hopes of seeing a car pulling in.
I haven’t had much time to think these past few days.
My mind has been a jumbled mess. I’ve read every parenting book out there, but I still feel as clueless as ever.
I turn to look at Rhett who’s leaning casually against the kitchen counter, that stupid hunting knife in his hands, “Put that away,” I scold him, “I don’t want that out around the kid.”
He cocks a brow, “Yes, dad.” He grumbles but does as he is told, sliding the knife into the sheath attached to his belt and then pulling his black button down over it to conceal the weapon.
He’s had that thing for as long as I can remember, something to do with his uncle, the man who raised him. He doesn’t talk about it much and neither does Della. All I know is when I went off to college, Rhett stayed here and during that time his uncle died. It was sudden, an accident Rhett told me, but it always seemed shady to me.
“You’re gonna be fine, son,” my old man slaps a hand on my back.
I grunt.
“They’re here!” Della exclaims with a clap of her hands, “Get out there, Taron, go greet your daughter.”
I haven’t seen her since that day in the park a little over a week ago. In that time, I’ve stared at the picture of the two of us Alyssa snapped on my phone a hundred times.
I’ve thought about that blonde, the one who drives the rusted jeep, a lot. I’ve seen her green eyes in my dreams and replayed the way her hair glints in the sunshine. I’ve asked a few people about her, but no one seems to know who she is, and I had to stop asking for risk of sounding like a creep.
I’m not sure what it is about her that has me intrigued, I do know she rubs me up the wrong way. Between the judgement she threw my way that first day at the park and the weird eye contact we made last week, I can’t put my finger on the feelings she stirs inside me.
I step out onto the porch just as Alyssa is helping Ripley out of the back seat.
“Daddy!” Ripley squeals.
My heart squeezes so hard I’m afraid it’s going to burst. The little girl, dressed in a pink, floral summer dress sprints towards me, her dark hair flowing out behind her. I crouch to catch her as she flings herself at me, wrapping her little arms around my neck.
“Hi, Ripley,” I hug her back, “And, how are you?”
“Good,” she pulls back to look at my face, “I’m happy.”
I smile, my whole body softening towards the girl, “That’s good, sweetheart.”
Alyssa pulls a small pink suitcase behind her and carries a backpack on her shoulder as she walks towards us, a small smile pulling on her lips.
“This is everything,” she says softly, eyeing Ripley’s belongings.
“Is that all?”
Alyssa nods, “It is.”
I add a mental note to take Ripley shopping or maybe ask Della to do it. I have no idea how to shop for six-year-old girls after all.
Alyssa leaves the bags on the porch and steps away, smiling at the girl now held against my hip.
“Bye, Ripley,” Alyssa says softly, “It was so nice to meet you.”
They say their goodbyes and then we watch as the social worker climbs back into her sedan and drives away. We’ll never see her again. Ripley will be with me forever.
“Come on,” I tell Ripley, “There’s some people who want to meet you!”
I take her back into the house, leaving her items on the porch for now and find Rhett, Della and my dad waiting for us in the hallway.
Ripley buries her face into my neck.
Della steps forward first, “Hi Ripley, my name’s Della.”
Her only response is a little squeak.
Dad clears his throat, “Ripley?”
My protectiveness surges. This is too much for her. “Guys, do you mind giving us a minute?”
How is it possible to go from a single, no worries kind of guy to suddenly feeling this primal urge of protectiveness over a child you barely know? She’s my blood, but this surge inside me is almost too much to cope with. To me, it doesn’t matter that I have to take the time to get to know her, it doesn’t matter that she has to get to know me too, what matters is that she is here, now, and I’ll always have her.
Her mother kept her from me for reasons I don’t know, but we’re fixing that now.
I take Ripley through to the family room and sit with her on the sofa, her on my knee, face still buried in my neck.
“Should we meet the horses?” I ask her.
She nods.
“Okay, sweetheart. You tell me when you’re ready.”
She cuddles in closer. I can feel the pitter patter of her little heart thumping against my chest.
We sit for a few minutes, my arms curled around her small body whilst she settles back down and when she’s ready she brings her face away and looks at me curiously.
“Who were those people?” She asks.
“Well, Rhett, he’s my best friend, do you have a best friend?”
She shakes her head.
“Well Rhett, he’s a really funny guy. And the woman, that was Della, Rhett’s sister.”
She nods.
“The older man, well that’s my dad which makes him your grandfather, but I’m sure he’d like to be called grandpa.”
“I never had a grandpa,” she says quietly.
“Well you do now,” I smile, “What do you wanna do? Do you wanna meet them or go see the horses?”
“Meet them. Then horses. Please.”
“Deal,” I grin, watching her jump down from my knee and start towards the door where the others are still waiting.
“Hi,” I hear her say.
I follow her out of the room and watch her do the rounds, introducing herself to the closest people to me in my life.
Five
Penny
I bustle Ava out the front door and into the jeep. It’s the first day of school and we’re already running late!
Shit.
“Mommy, slow down!” Ava complains as I quickly buckle her in.
I can’t slow down. If I’m late to drop her off, then it means I’ll be late for my first day of work too! What kind of impression would that give?
The waitressing job was the only one that came back to me and I filled in hundreds of applications. It’s awful pay but it will pay the bills and put food on the table, even if it does only leave a little spare.
My savings have been depleted. I’m broke and still have a car that needs to be repaired.
I turn over the engine and a plume of black smoke splutters out the back, fogging up the back window and obstructing my view to reverse.
Grumbling to myself I manage to get on
to the road and make it to the school with five minutes to spare.
I feel a sweat breaking out across my neck and brow and the early morning sun is already relentlessly hot. The black mandatory uniform I’m wearing for work only makes matters worse.
With Ava’s hand tightly clutched in mine we head into the school yard, standing at the edge away from the other parents.
“I don’t know anyone,” Ava whines.
“I know baby, but you’ll make friends.”
She harrumphs, her little pink bottom lip sticking out with a sulk.
I wonder if she misses her old school and her old friends though I can’t say I do. Those kids and the parents were cruel. Teasing her in the playground because news about her dad spread like wildfire through the masses.
The thing is, kids pick up on the things their parents do and say so their taunts and the name calling could have only been heard by the adults.
Sometimes, adults are worse than kids.
There are a few stares being thrown our way and whilst no one knows us, the fear of being found out worsens my anxiety.
A bell rings loudly across the yard and everyone begins to form a queue in front of the classroom door. We linger at the back.
When we’re almost at the front a little cry from behind catches my attention.
My eyes widen when I see who it is standing there.
Hazel eyes narrow in on my face, the flecks of gold almost neon amongst the sea of brown and green. One dark smudge of an eyebrow is cocked, and his dark hair is messy, like he’s pushed his fingers through it one too many times.
He’s still as tall as I remember and just as broad with shoulders that would fill any doorway and the muscles in his arms at least the same size as my thighs. The sleeves of his white and blue flannel are pushed up to his elbows, revealing tanned skin and prominent veins that snake their way around his arms.
Disgustingly sexy hollows sit beneath razor sharp cheekbones and his firm jaw is set, a little muscle ticking as he grits his teeth. The first time I saw him he was cleanly shaven but now a dark dusting of hair has grown around those plump, kissable lips of his.