For what seemed like a lifetime, Emma eyed him from under her teary eyelashes. Eventually, she pulled her thumb from her mouth, hiccuping and sniffling before putting her arms out to him.
Tentatively, he reached for her, still waiting for her to reconsider and bury her face in Lisa’s chest. When she didn’t, he took her in his arms, patting her narrow shoulders. What should he do now? He’d heard from someone—he couldn’t remember who—that it was soothing to a child to carry them around the house looking at whatever caught the child’s attention. He began moving from room to room. “Look outside,” he said, pointing at the American flag fluttering on the flagpole near the garage. “What is that?”
“Flag,” she said before popping her thumb back into her mouth, resting her tiny head on his shoulder and snuggling close. Love for his daughter, like a living thing, filled his chest, expanding to fill his body, shaking him to his core.
He was walking around the kitchen, pointing things out for Emma to name when Lisa appeared with her purse and a small suitcase. He really was going to be one hundred percent responsible for this little girl. “You’re leaving now,” he said, hearing the raw anxiety in his voice.
“I am.” Lisa looked at Emma, who promptly pulled away from Aidan and reached for Lisa.
“I go with you,” Emma said as Lisa wrapped her arms around his little girl.
“You have to stay here with your dad. I’ll be back as soon as I can, and in the meantime, you be good, okay?” Lisa said, kissing her cheek.
Emma pulled her thumb from her mouth. “No! You stay!” she demanded, tears spilling down her cheeks.
“I have to go, honey,” Lisa murmured, her eyes filling with tears as she held the little girl. She looked over at Aidan. “Can you take her for me?”
Tentatively, he reached for Emma, who immediately began to cry harder. Aidan waited, not knowing what to do, fearing that Emma would not stop crying when Lisa left the house.
“I have to go, Emma,” Lisa said again, and this time she passed Emma to him. The child struggled in his arms and managed to slide to the floor, following Lisa to the door. Aidan went after her, trying to remain calm while worrying that Emma might follow Lisa to her car.
“Please stay here with me,” he said to Emma as he managed to pick her up again, evoking loud wails.
Lisa turned, a desperate look on her face. “Find one of her favorite toys to soothe her,” she said as she turned quickly, opened the door and walked out, to another yelp of protest from Emma.
“I don’t know which toys are her favorite,” he said to the closed door.
Emma scrambled out of his arms, fleeing to the window in the living room that looked out on the driveway. “Weeza!” she screamed, climbing the back of the sofa.
He went to her, unsure if he should try to pick her up and comfort her. Hoping to calm his little girl, he glanced around the room looking for a toy that might soothe her. In a corner, he spotted the black teddy bear perched precariously on the edge of a tapestry-covered bench. He grabbed the furry toy and offered it to Emma.
At first, she ignored him, sucking her thumb and hiccuping. When she did glance his way, she stared at him suspiciously. He waited, his throat constricted with worry at the possibility that Emma might simply continue to cry, and he wouldn’t be able to comfort her.
Seconds later her tiny hand grabbed the bear before turning away from him and nestling into the sofa while she patted the bear’s back.
What should he do now? He glanced around, trying to figure out if he could get her back to the TV in the family room. Not ideal parenting, but the TV might distract her and give him time to make a plan.
“Emma, would you let me watch SpongeBob SquarePants with you?” he asked, mentally crossing his fingers that the program was still on.
She peered up at him, sighed and offered her bear to him. “Blackie and I will show you.”
He took the bear, grateful for the change in his daughter, and followed her to the TV. Cartoon characters he’d never seen before who seemed to live under the water flashed on the screen. How weird was that? He edged down beside her on the sofa. “So, tell me about this show. Who is SpongeBob?”
Relief whirled around him as he listened to her animated description of what seemed to be a bunch of characters making Krabby Patties while hurling insults at each other and throwing things. But he really didn’t care about the storyline as long as Emma seemed content and was not crying. For now, he was happy to sit with her, watch her as she pointed and laughed at the antics of the characters.
It would seem that the program ran four episodes back-to-back each day after school, according to the onscreen guide.
Carefully he eased back on the sofa, hoping that Emma might snuggle next to him for a few minutes. Before long, she glanced at him, her gaze shifting to his lap. He took that to mean she wanted him to hold her. When he opened his arms, she climbed onto his lap, and not too long after, she fell asleep on his shoulder.
What should he do now? Would she sleep until her bedtime, then stay awake half the night crying for Lisa, or worse, her mother? He didn’t have any idea and it frightened him. All he could be sure of was that, for now, things were quiet.
A little later, she awoke suddenly, rubbed her eyes. “I’m hungry,” she said, sitting up straight and staring at him.
“What would you like to eat?” he asked.
“Tomato soup and crackers,” she said, sliding off his lap and heading to the kitchen, dragging Blackie the bear behind her.
“Can I have some, too?” he asked, following her to the kitchen.
She raised her arms up to him. “Yes. But only four crackers,” she said, holding up four fingers as he lifted her into his arms.
“Do you help Lisa make dinner?”
“Yes. I sit there.” She pointed to the stool closest to the kitchen sink.
“Want to sit there now?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He was pleased to make her dinner and watch as she slurped the soup. He didn’t realize that little kids liked soup, but his daughter certainly did. Upstairs, he ran a bath and helped Emma into it. He sat on the floor beside the tub and watched as she splashed and played with plastic fish and other assorted creatures.
Wanting to get her to bed so he could relax for a while, he held out a towel to Emma. “I think it’s time to get out of the tub, don’t you?”
For a minute, her lips formed a pout and he held his breath.
Please don’t cry. Please.
“Yes!” Emma’s face lit up with a smile. He scooped her up and started down the hall to her bedroom.
“We’ll get you into your pajamas, and then I’ll read you a story,” he said.
She pointed to her mother’s room as they reached the door. Oh. No. “You want to go in there?” he asked, preparing himself for the onslaught of tears he was certain would erupt if they went into Deidre’s room. “Are you sure you don’t want to get your pajamas on now? We could look in your mother’s room later.”
Emma gave her head a vigorous shake sending damp curls cascading over her face.
“Okay.” He carried her into the room, the evening sky spreading shades of pink and gold across the cream-colored duvet.
Emma pointed to the mantel over the fireplace.
“Mommy’s photo. You want to look at that,” he said, dreading what would happen next.
Emma reached toward the mantel, picking up the photo of him next to the one of Deidre. “Daddy,” she said, hugging it close, her thumb making its way into her mouth, but not before she smiled into his face.
His heart slowed to a steady thump as he held her tight in his arms. His life seemed to stand still as he met his daughter’s gaze. An emotion he couldn’t name swamped him, and he knew only that he’d never felt it before. “Yes. Daddy,” he said, as tears of joy ran unfettered down his face.
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“Don’t cry,” she said, her expression anxious.
“I’m crying because I’m happy,” he whispered taking the photo from her tiny hands and gingerly putting it on the mantel.
“No!” Emma reached for the photo, taking it in her pudgy hands. “Mine!”
“You want to keep that?” he asked, marveling at how easy she was to hold.
“My room,” she said, leaning back in his arms and peeking up at him from under her dark lashes.
In her room, she put on her pajamas and climbed into bed, still clutching his photo in her hands. Watching her, he knew he would remember every detail of this moment for the rest of his life.
Abruptly, his thoughts turned to Grace. He wanted to share this moment with her. She, better than anyone he knew, would appreciate how he was feeling. But first, he had to be sure that Emma was settled. “Do you want me to read to you?” he asked, following Lisa’s instructions about the bedtime routine.
“No. Mommy reads to me,” she said, her eyes dark pools of worry. “I want Mommy.”
Aidan felt so sorry for his little girl, and so helpless. Nothing would change the sad truth that her mother would never be with her again, would never hold her or read to her.
He knelt beside the bed. “Well, maybe you could show me your favorite book, and maybe I could read to you sometime. Maybe even tomorrow night?” he asked, fearing that she would simply continue to cry. If she did, what would he do? There was no one to turn to. He could call Grace, but what could she do over the phone?
Slowly a small smile started on Emma’s face, pushing her cheeks up into tiny pink globes. Was she going to be okay? “Can I take the photo?” he asked, hoping to smooth the tiny frown between her perfectly blue eyes.
Emma snuggled under the pink duvet, handing him the photo. “I’ll put it on the bookcase, will I?” he asked, unbelievably relieved that she seemed to be settling for the night.
She nodded, her thumb slipping into her mouth. He kissed her forehead, reveling in the softness of her skin and the fresh-scrubbed scent of her. Unfamiliar feelings he could not explain filled him. He’d never felt this way in his life. She gave him a sleepy smile as she snuggled beneath the sheets. He would do anything, make any sacrifice, for the little girl lying there looking up at him. Anything.
“See you in the morning,” he whispered.
“Leave the door open,” she murmured, her voice filled with sleep.
“Sure. I’ll check on you a little later. Sweet dreams, princess.”
He tiptoed out of the room, but not before he saw her eyelids slide closed. He took a deep breath, the first since he’d gotten her out of the tub. Overall, the evening had gone pretty well. Or, at least, he thought so. He’d be sure to check on her several times during the night, just in case. If she were afraid and lonely, would she get up and come into his room? Or would she go to her mother’s room?
Back in his room, he reread the list of instructions that Lisa had left for him—all sorts of information about Emma’s daily life, things he hadn’t imagined he’d need to learn so soon.
He called Grace, eager to tell her what had happened and talk about everything he was feeling. The past couple of hours had been a roller coaster, from his early fear that he couldn’t cope to his conviction that he could do this. He could.
“Hi, Aidan,” Grace said, her voice sounding strained.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine. How are you?”
“I’m doing okay, mostly. I wanted to tell you about Lisa and what’s been going on,” he said as he started to list off the events since she’d left earlier in the day.
Grace listened to Aidan talk about his daughter in excited, upbeat tones. Even the news that the nanny had to be off for a few days didn’t seem to faze him. She was frankly amazed that Aidan hadn’t called her the minute he knew Lisa had to leave.
“And you managed to get her into the tub?” she asked.
“She got in on her own. She knew which bubble bath her mom used. She got her own towel out of the linen closet, and she chose her own snack, which, by the way, she ate in the tub,” he said, chuckling. “I had no idea what Ritz crackers looked like floating around in bubbles. And she is so sweet and funny. I just sat by the tub and watched her. Grace, you can’t imagine what it felt like to have my daughter with me, to see her play in the bathwater and so many other things. I...I... Grace, I love her so much,” he said, his voice low and filled with wonder.
He’d never been totally responsible for any child, let alone a four-year-old who had just learned that her nanny was leaving on top of everything else. “You’re amazing. How did you do this on your own?”
“I nearly called you to help me, but I didn’t dare leave Emma.”
“I would have helped you if I could,” she said, feeling hurt that he hadn’t immediately called her. Knowing that he’d managed to look after a little girl on his own made her feel as if he didn’t need her.
Could she have done what he did? She wasn’t sure. She’d done a little babysitting and read books on child-rearing...
Why hadn’t he called her for advice and support? Maybe he didn’t feel she’d be interested in what he was going through. Yet she was interested. Her misgivings over how he’d behaved earlier didn’t change the fact that she wanted to know about Emma. “Aidan, despite our differences I would have helped you with Emma,” she repeated, feeling the pain of not being included.
“You say that, but you wouldn’t stay today long enough to meet her,” he said, his voice radiating sadness.
His words filled her with remorse and a tinge of resentment. She wished she’d been there with him, to see his little girl, but she would not have found it easy to witness his love for a child she felt so ambiguous about.
“I’m really pleased for you, Aidan,” she said, struggling to sound upbeat, but all she could think about was that another woman had made her husband happier than she’d ever known him to be. Another woman had given him the child he wanted. “You sound very happy,” she said, as she faced the fact that her husband’s happiness had nothing to do with her or with their marriage.
He hadn’t said a word about them or their relationship or the way things had been left between them a few short hours ago. Once she was home, she’d prayed that he would call, that they would talk a little. As evening approached, she’d grown anxious. They’d never let the sun go down on their anger. They’d always made up before going to sleep.
How could he not have wanted to talk to her before this? How many husbands have their wives walk out after an argument and not ask how they are doing?
“Grace, are you still there?” he asked.
She wanted to ask him about where they went from here. She needed him to say what was going on with him, his feelings for her. But all he wanted to talk about was his daughter.
She realized that she sounded petulant and selfish, but she needed to talk to her husband. Needed them to agree to meet and work things out. “I’m here. I’m glad you’re enjoying your daughter,” she said, forcing the words around the painful lump in her throat.
“She’s our daughter, Grace. And when Lisa returns, I’m going to work out a plan for us to all be together. I miss you, and I want to be with you. I messed things up when you left here, but I plan to fix all that. You’ll see. I should have taken the time to call you earlier this evening. It won’t happen again.”
Relief appeared at his words. Despite their troubles, she wanted to believe him, to believe he was aware that she was hurting. “Oh, Aidan, I want us together, too, to work on our marriage. I want to get to know Emma. I’m sure if we talk this all out sensibly, we can find a solution that works for all of us.”
“Grace, I was really down earlier today. After you left and I was finished with the lawyer, I realized that I was as much to blame, if not more so, than Deidre for what happ
ened. I should never have had sex with her. It was stupid and irresponsible. But I can’t regret Emma. I don’t know why Deidre didn’t tell me about her, let me be involved, but that’s over. I want us to move on, the three of us. Did I tell you that Emma held my photo and called me Dad?”
“She did?” Grace said, her throat twisting into a hard knot. Aidan had had the moment she’d dreamed of all her life—that moment when her child called her Mom. “That’s lovely for you.”
“I... Whatever we decide, I don’t want to ever be separated from Emma again.”
“Not even for a few days while we sort things out between us?” she asked, feeling a sense of foreboding. By that one statement, he had made it clear that what Emma needed and what he needed came first, ahead of their relationship. Did he have any idea how cruel and hurtful his words were?
“We can talk when she’s in kindergarten any day you can get here.”
“I didn’t say I was coming back to Spartanburg. I’m still completely confused as to where I stand in all this and how we put things back together in our lives.”
There was a long pause before Aidan spoke. “Grace, I love you. This whole experience has affected me in ways I couldn’t have imagined a few weeks ago. But I realize that I’m too quick to talk about what I want and how I see things. My actions have hurt you and I’m sorry. What can I do to fix this?”
Had he not heard a word of what she’d said? “Do you think this can be fixed by making a list of things to be done?”
“Well, not exactly a list. My weekend with Deidre was almost five years ago, Grace. I’ve hurt you, made it difficult for you to trust me. I realize that. But I love you. We have a beautiful life together, and now we have a child.”
“Aidan, you’re asking me to accept your daughter by another woman without you helping me work through how I feel, what I want to see happen. I need you to listen to me, to my feelings.”
“I am listening right now, Grace.”
“I don’t know if I can accept Emma into our lives. Every time I look at her, I will see a part of you and be reminded that you were unfaithful to me. When I see you in her, I will remember what you did to us, and to our marriage. I will remember that when I thought we were focused on creating a child, a family together, you had sex with someone else.”
Bringing Emma Home Page 11