She pulled back, her perfect face tearstained and broken, and asked me the one question I felt incapable of answering. “Mommy, who is that man?”
How could I tell her that the man I had just sent away was her father or deal the questions that were sure to follow? Instead, I pressed my lips to her forehead and whispered, “Mommy loves you so much, Lizzie.”
She nodded against them as if her four-year-old mind understood that I was asking her for time, that my heart was not yet ready to break hers any further. She clung to my neck desperately as I hugged her, before I reluctantly set her on the floor.
“Can you be a big girl for Mommy and go upstairs and play in your room until dinner is ready?” I caressed her cheek as I implored with my eyes. She gazed up at me, never looking more like Christian than in that moment. I smiled sadly at her, wishing that it didn’t hurt so much.
She cast one last glance toward the window before looking back at me. “Okay, Mommy.”
Once she was safely upstairs, I cautiously peered through the curtains, praying that Christian was gone, though intuitively knowing he was not. He sat in his car, his gaze meeting mine, his eyes pleading for forgiveness while mine silently begged him to just leave us alone.
~
Dinner was quiet. Lizzie said very little the entire evening other than, “Thank you, Momma,” when I set her small plate of lasagna down in front of her. Neither of us ate much, and I knew her mind was focused just as much on what had happened this afternoon as mine was. I owed her an answer to her question, but I still hadn’t found the right way to tell her.
We went through our normal evening routine, albeit halfheartedly. Her nightly bath lacked the normal giggles and splashes, and for the first time in her life, she didn’t want a bedtime story. She climbed into her bed, and I pulled the covers up over her chest and kissed her softly on the head. I hoped she would snuggle into her pillow and yawn the way she usually did, but instead she looked up at me, waiting. I sank onto my knees beside her bed, knowing I could put this off no longer. I opened my mouth, searching for the right way to tell her, but she spoke first.
“Was that my Daddy?” All the air left me as her timid, soft words came like a whisper into her dim room. They were filled with such hope, and now I could do nothing other than crush that hope just as soon as it had been born.
A single tear slid down my face as I nodded. Swallowing, I looked around the room as I tried to gather enough courage to speak. Finally, I turned back to her. “Yes, baby, it was.” Lizzie knew little of Christian. She had asked once, right after she had started preschool. She had wanted to know why she didn’t have a daddy like the rest of the kids. I had only told her that her father lived far away. I knew that one day I would have to explain the choice he had made. I just didn’t think it would come so soon.
Breathing deeply, I reached out and brushed her hair from her eyes, playing with the long strands while I began to speak. Sadness washed over her face as I described as gently as I could that her father had chosen a different life, one without us in it. I prayed she wouldn’t understand what that really meant. Of course, I should have known better.
My ever-insightful child looked me directly in the face and asked, “You mean my daddy didn’t want me?”
How was I supposed to answer that? I found that I couldn’t. Wouldn’t. No child should ever feel rejected the way she had been. Instead, I climbed into bed next to her and pulled her to me. I kissed her forehead, promising her that I had wanted her from the moment I knew she was to be born.
Christian may not have wanted her, but I had never wanted anything more in my life.
We stayed like that for what seemed like hours, me gaining solace from my daughter while I tried to provide her the same, her breath finally beginning to even out as she drifted to sleep. I allowed myself to relish in the quiet comfort of my child. Nearing sleep myself, Lizzie snuggled deeper and pressed her face into my chest, mumbling from somewhere in her subconscious. “But my daddy wants me now.”
~
My stomach twisted as my cell phone rang. I picked it up from the center console of my car, glancing at the screen as I drove—not that I needed to. I knew exactly who it was. He’d been calling continuously since last Friday when he’d shown up at my house. I’d spent that night in Lizzie’s room, unwilling to leave the warmth of her presence. Saturday morning, I was awakened by a playful kiss on my cheek. I had opened my eyes to find Lizzie grinning over me. It had seemed the perfect start to the day. That feeling hadn’t lasted long, disappearing when I discovered the four missed calls, two voice messages, and three text messages—all of them from Christian. They were all alike, filled with apologies and pleas to make atonement. Initially, I’d been shocked. I had no idea how he’d gotten my cell phone number. Over the following week, the number of calls had increased in direct relation to the fervency in his voice.
I pushed end to silence the ring, and in my frustration, I threw the phone against the passenger seat.
I was scared.
He was so desperate as if his life depended on whether or not he saw Lizzie again. My paranoid mind had begun to conjure terrifying scenarios, most of them centered on a call from Lizzie’s school saying she had suddenly disappeared, last seen with a man that bore an uncanny resemblance to her. If I approached the situation realistically, though, I knew there was little chance he would ever do something so criminal.
That was my worst fear, though, what was legal, what rights he might have. Each night this week after I’d tucked Lizzie into bed, I’d researched. It seemed it all came down to what the court would believe would be in the child’s best interest. The problem was, I knew what was best for my child and that was to keep her away from the man who would ultimately end up hurting her, but would they see it that way? It left me feeling completely out of control, unsure of our future. Vulnerable.
I cringed as my phoned chimed again, indicating a new voice message. I prayed that if I ignored him long enough, he would finally give up.
Work passed in a fog. Faces were a blur, and I hoped that the daze that surrounded me wasn’t affecting my job. It turned out I had hoped in vain. Scott, one of our two loan officers, tugged on my forearm and pulled me aside, his expression concerned. He was a thirty-two year old divorcee, and second to Christian, probably the most attractive man I’d ever seen. He didn’t drop his hold as his green eyes searched my face, his thumb running circles over my skin.
“What’s going on with you this week, Liz? I’m worried about you.” His voice was soft, tender, dripping with the affection I’d told him time and time again I could never return. He’d settled on being my friend, though I was certain he believed one day I would have a change of heart.
Pushing my bangs from my face, I sighed heavily. “I’m fine,” I whispered under my breath. “It’s just been a bad week.” What an understatement. It had been one of the worst weeks of my life.
“You want to talk about it?”
I shook my head, hoping my small, forced smile would project my appreciation. “No, I’m fine. Thanks. I just have a lot on my mind right now.”
He nodded, squeezing my arm. “Okay, Liz, but I’m here for you.” He dipped his head, meeting my eyes. “You know that, right?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Try to focus out there, okay,” he added reluctantly, plainly uncomfortable bringing up my deficiencies over the past week. “I’m not the only one who’s noticed you’ve been off your game this week.” He gestured with his head in the direction of our branch manager, Anita, who was watching us from her desk across the lobby.
I cringed, feeling guilty and embarrassed for allowing my personal issues to affect my job.
“Thanks for the warning.”
“You’re welcome. Now get back to work,” he said as his tone turned teasing. I grinned at him, shaking my head as I walked back to my window.
I took a deep breath as I got back to my drawer, giving myself a mental pep talk about leaving my personal
issues at home. Even if the smile I flashed at my next customer was fake, it was at least a smile and not a grimace. She completed her transaction and wished me a good evening, and I bid her the same.
I called next as I glanced at my computer screen, clearing it to prepare for the next customer.
“Elizabeth, I need to talk to you.” His low voice hit me just as hard as if he’d slammed me against a wall.
Christian stood at my window, his hands gripping the counter as he leaned in toward me. I tried to look away from his penetrating eyes, to escape the intensity behind them. The passion swimming in them was probably the single most frightening thing I’d ever seen. It was then I realized he wouldn’t give up. Overwhelmed, I burst into tears.
“Please, leave us alone,” I begged, imploring with him to just once not think of himself.
“I’m sorry, Elizabeth, I can’t. I have to see Lizzie.” His face lit as he said her name. It made me sick.
I shook my head. “No.” I wasn’t giving in. I would not allow him to hurt my baby.
“Please, don’t do this, Elizabeth. You can’t keep her from me,” he stated as if he had a claim on her. As far as I was concerned, he had given up that claim the moment he had sent me out his door. I was going to tell him that very thing, until the words, “I love her,” passed through his lips.
He loved her? I could feel my face redden as anger surged through my veins. “You what?” I seethed, unable to contain the fury boiling over. “You don’t love her.” Five years with no contact and now he loves her? I could feel myself begin to shake, and this time I wouldn’t hold back. He needed to know just how misguided he was. “You’re too selfish to know what love is, and I will not stand by and watch you break Lizzie’s heart when you’ve had your fill of her, just the way you did me.”
Christian paled at my words, almost as if he hadn’t known he’d broken my heart, and if he hadn’t realized that, then he was truly a fool. I had loved him—so much. I’d told him every day and I’d meant it. He’d promised to marry to me, to spend his life with me, to love me forever. Apparently, I’d been the fool to believe it.
“Elizabeth.” His voice was raspy as he pleaded, “I’m not that person anymore. Please, give me a chance. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”
I wanted to laugh in his face. “I haven’t forgotten the last time you made that promise, Christian.” How many times he’d told me he’d never leave.
I took advantage of his pause, his loss for words, and hardened my voice. “Stay out of our lives, Christian.” He needed to know that no amount of repentance would earn him forgiveness. What he’d done was unforgivable.
Christian gripped his head in his hands, and when he looked back up at me, his face was contorted in an anguish I didn’t understand. “Please, Elizabeth . . . don’t . . . Don’t make me take this to court.”
My knees went weak as he vocalized my biggest fear, and I was certain my heart would falter in my chest. He was really going to try to take away my child. I took a shaky step back as the room began to spin. There were so many emotions swirling, consuming, but one thought overrode them all. I opened my mouth, and even though the sound barely came, I was certain he heard.
“I hate you.”
I covered my mouth as I rushed to the break room, hoping to hide myself away before I completely broke down. The moment I was safely behind the door, I lost it. Loud cries echoed through the small room, my body convulsing, gripped with fear. I tried to steady myself against the table but fell to my knees, my legs unable to support the weight of what had just occurred. I felt as if I were drowning. Sounds came in muddled waves against my ears, and I sensed movement and knew I was not alone, though I was unable to focus on anything but the feeling of dread that coursed through my body. The pressure in my chest left me gasping, searching for air I couldn’t seem to find.
Somebody shook me, an alarmed voice repeating, “Elizabeth.”
I struggled to see the face, to hear the voice, and finally opened my eyes to find Scott kneeling in front of me. The look of concern he’d had earlier had been replaced by one of panic. His hands trembled as he held my shoulders.
A soft hand rubbed my back as Selina’s soothing voice coaxed, “Calm down, Liz . . . Take a deep breath . . . Just relax.” With her words, my anxiety attack gave way to a flood of tears, and I collapsed into Scott’s arms, sobbing into his shirt.
Selina stood and returned seconds later with a cup of water and a cool, wet cloth, pressing one against my forehead and the other to my lips. Scott helped me into a chair and I accepted the water, allowing the coolness to soothe my burning throat, though it could do nothing to soothe my soul.
All I could think was that I had failed my daughter.
Selina drove me home and Scott followed in my car. It was apparent I was in no condition to finish out my day of work. Selina offered to come inside, but I refused. I just needed to be alone.
I plodded upstairs, each step sucking me deeper into despair. By the time I entered my bedroom, I was back on my knees, weeping into the carpet.
I had no idea how much time had passed when I heard the front doorbell ring, then ring again. Finally, the sound of a key in the lock and the squeaking of the front door came.
“Elizabeth?” Natalie’s voice carried from downstairs.
This was followed by Lizzie’s joyful voice singing, “Where are you, Mommy?”
I cried harder into the floor, thinking of how one day soon Christian would steal that joy away. Footsteps pounded against the stairs, and I could feel Natalie pause in the doorway to my room. Lizzie’s footsteps trailed close behind.
Raising my head, I met Natalie’s face as she took in the scene, her eyes wide as she apprised the crying mess I was.
“Please, don’t let Lizzie see me this way,” I managed to force out, my voice hoarse.
She hesitated, clearly wishing to come to my side before nodding and stepping away. She stopped Lizzie just before she got to the door.
“Lizzie, honey, your mommy isn’t feeling very well right now. Why don’t we go downstairs and start dinner.”
“Is she sick?” Lizzie’s voice dropped to a whisper. I could sense her trying to peer into the room, and Natalie moved to block her view.
“Yes, sweetheart, but she’ll be okay, don’t worry.”
The bedroom door closed between us, and I was left with only the echo of their retreat downstairs and the anxiety that had me nailed to the floor. I wanted to get up, dry my eyes, and go to my daughter, but I knew I would be unable to stand in front of Lizzie and pretend that the life we knew had not just come to an end.
It seemed like hours had passed as I swam in my misery, but the sky had barely dimmed with evening’s approach when my door opened and I was wrapped in the comfort of Matthew’s arms. He sat on the floor against my bed and pulled me onto his lap. He rocked me and shushed me as if I were his child, his hand running through my hair as he placed soft kisses against my head.
~
I leaned heavily against the table, staring into the lukewarm cup of coffee that sat untouched in front of me. Matthew and Natalie walked quietly into the kitchen.
“She’s asleep,” Matthew said just above a whisper. He released a heavy breath and ran his hand over his face.
Glancing up, I mouthed a watery, “Thank you.”
Natalie and Matthew took a seat at the table, eyeing me cautiously. “Are you doing okay, Liz?” Matthew asked sympathetically, though with an undercurrent of fury I knew he was trying to hide from me.
Sniffling, I shook my head. I wasn’t doing okay. Never had I been more afraid. I’d worked so hard to build this life, to provide a safe, stable home for Lizzie, one filled with encouragement and love. I’d established a family that she could count on; people who would never choose to leave her but who would always choose to stay. And in one moment, Christian threatened to take it all away.
“What am I going to do?” I choked out, more tears pouring down my face as I voiced my
fears. “I can’t let him hurt her.” I knew I had to protect my daughter from him. I just didn’t know how.
“Maybe he won’t, Liz. Maybe he really just wants to see her,” Natalie offered, her tone hopeful, her words causing a loud cry to erupt from me.
Matthew widened his eyes at Natalie, and he tilted his head to the side as if to say you’re not helping things.
Natalie shrugged defensively. “What? I’m just saying what I saw. Now that I know who he is, I can understand the look on his face. It was as if he wanted to know her.”
Her remark only made me cry harder.
Natalie grabbed my hand, squeezing it. “I’m sorry, Liz. I didn’t mean to upset you, but what if he did change?”
I accepted the tissue Matthew offered and blew my nose while shaking my head. I wasn’t upset with Natalie. She didn’t know Christian like I did. I was sure Natalie was right on some account, that Christian did want to know Lizzie now. It was the day he became bored with her that concerned me.
Matthew reached across the table and covered Natalie’s and my hands in his. “Elizabeth, I think you should let him see her.” His expression was compassionate, and although I knew he would never mean me any harm, it felt like he’d slapped me across the face.
“What?” I jerked my hand away and shook my head, unable to comprehend how Matthew could even suggest something so unreasonable. I would do whatever it took to keep my daughter away from Christian.
Matthew reached for me again, appearing tortured. “Look at me, Elizabeth.” His expression was intense, sincere as he looked across the table at me. He was hurting, every bit as much as I was. “I love Lizzie like my own, and I would do anything to protect her. You know that, right?”
Of course I did. I nodded.
“Then this may be the best way. Think about it. You don’t want that asshole to take you to court.”
“I can’t believe they’d give him custody,” I said, wishing to sound confident. Instead, it came out more a question. After what he’d done, how could they possibly grant him parental rights? Could they? More tears came.
The Regret Series Complete Collection Box Set: Lost to You, Take This Regret, and if Forever Comes Page 20