better for her hair.”
Pamela squinted. “How would you know that?”
Jack recalled the many times he’d treated his hair at the shelter. One day he would share all that with Pamela, but for now they needed to get started. He pointed to the kitchen. “Do you have mayonnaise?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you put some in both the girls’ hair, and I’ll strip the beds and—”
“I want you to do my hair.” Emmy grabbed his hand in hers and swung it back and forth.
Jack’s heart flipped with excitement.
Pamela pointed to Emma. “We’ll take care of the beds.” She looked at Emmy. “Take him into the kitchen and show him the mayonnaise.”
While he rubbed mayonnaise into her hair, Emmy talked to him about homework, her friends, her favorite toys, even the stray dog that roamed around the school at times. He drank in each word, cherished each story.
Every few minutes, he spied Emma and Pamela taking sheets and clothes to the main house. He caught Emma watching him at one point while she stuffed animals into garbage bags. She quickly looked away, and he wished his older daughter would talk with him. But he’d have to give her time.
“Our school’s fall festival is on Friday. You wanna come?” asked Emmy.
Before Jack could respond, Emma raced into the room and yelled, “He can’t come!”
“Why not?” whined Emmy.
Emma balled her fists. Pamela walked out of a bedroom. “What’s wrong?” She put her hand on Emma’s shoulder. “Why are you upset?”
Emmy pointed to her own chest. “I want Dad to go to the fall festival.”
“No.” The word slipped through Emma’s gritted teeth.
Pamela glanced at him, her eyebrows raised.
God, what do I say? Of course I’ll go to the festival. But Emma?
Pamela knelt down in front of Emma. “If Emmy would like your dad to go to the festival, it will be okay. He can take her to the different activities while you and I work the game for your class.”
Emma didn’t look at him, and her jaw set in a firm line as she said, “Grandma can take Emmy.”
Jack’s heart broke. Maybe he should just walk out. In all the scenarios he had dreamed up when he met the girls, he hadn’t considered one of them embracing him with open arms and the other loathing him from the bottom of her heart.
“No.” Emmy grabbed his hand. “I want my daddy.”
Daddy? The last time he’d heard “Da-Da” had been from Emma’s mouth, and she’d been just under a year old. Now to hear the word Daddy on Emmy’s lips thrilled him to his core.
Pamela placed her hands on her hips. “That’s enough.” She pointed down the hall. “Both of you go to your room so I can talk with Jack.”
“But—” the girls said in unison.
“No buts. Go.”
Emma raced to the bedroom, but Emmy grabbed him in a quick hug. Overwhelmed with thanksgiving that he had one ally in the house, Jack roped his arms around her and, ignoring the strong mayonnaise odor, kissed her forehead.
“I’m glad you’re here, Daddy.”
“Me, too.”
He released her, and she raced to the bedroom to join her sister. He stood up and gazed at Pamela. “I can’t believe she’s taken to me so quickly.”
Pamela folded her arms in front of her chest. “She’s always been like that. Bubbly. Outgoing. Ready to give anyone a chance. Forgiving.”
Jack touched his wife’s arm. “I hope someday you’ll be able to forgive me.”
She stepped back. “It’s not that easy, Jack.” Unfolding her arms, she pointed down the hall. “You saw Emma. Not everyone can just pretend that eight years apart was nothing.”
He wanted to nestle Emma close, promise her that he’d never leave her again, that she could count on him to be the daddy she’d deserved from the beginning.
Pamela closed her eyes and wiped her hand down her face. “I shouldn’t have called you. I hadn’t prepared the girls. I was—”
Jack covered the space between them and wrapped his arms around Pamela. She didn’t move and, for a
Pamela squinted. “How would you know that?”
Jack recalled the many times he’d treated his hair at the shelter. One day he would share all that with Pamela, but for now they needed to get started. He pointed to the kitchen. “Do you have mayonnaise?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you put some in both the girls’ hair, and I’ll strip the beds and—”
“I want you to do my hair.” Emmy grabbed his hand in hers and swung it back and forth.
Jack’s heart flipped with excitement.
Pamela pointed to Emma. “We’ll take care of the beds.” She looked at Emmy. “Take him into the kitchen and show him the mayonnaise.”
While he rubbed mayonnaise into her hair, Emmy talked to him about homework, her friends, her favorite toys, even the stray dog that roamed around the school at times. He drank in each word, cherished each story.
Every few minutes, he spied Emma and Pamela taking sheets and clothes to the main house. He caught Emma watching him at one point while she stuffed animals into garbage bags. She quickly looked away, and he wished his older daughter would talk with him. But he’d have to give her time.
“Our school’s fall festival is on Friday. You wanna come?” asked Emmy.
Before Jack could respond, Emma raced into the room and yelled, “He can’t come!”
“Why not?” whined Emmy.
Emma balled her fists. Pamela walked out of a bedroom. “What’s wrong?” She put her hand on Emma’s shoulder. “Why are you upset?”
Emmy pointed to her own chest. “I want Dad to go to the fall festival.”
“No.” The word slipped through Emma’s gritted teeth.
Pamela glanced at him, her eyebrows raised.
God, what do I say? Of course I’ll go to the festival. But Emma?
Pamela knelt down in front of Emma. “If Emmy would like your dad to go to the festival, it will be okay. He can take her to the different activities while you and I work the game for your class.”
Emma didn’t look at him, and her jaw set in a firm line as she said, “Grandma can take Emmy.”
Jack’s heart broke. Maybe he should just walk out. In all the scenarios he had dreamed up when he met the girls, he hadn’t considered one of them embracing him with open arms and the other loathing him from the bottom of her heart.
“No.” Emmy grabbed his hand. “I want my daddy.”
Daddy? The last time he’d heard “Da-Da” had been from Emma’s mouth, and she’d been just under a year old. Now to hear the word Daddy on Emmy’s lips thrilled him to his core.
Pamela placed her hands on her hips. “That’s enough.” She pointed down the hall. “Both of you go to your room so I can talk with Jack.”
“But—” the girls said in unison.
“No buts. Go.”
Emma raced to the bedroom, but Emmy grabbed him in a quick hug. Overwhelmed with thanksgiving that he had one ally in the house, Jack roped his arms around her and, ignoring the strong mayonnaise odor, kissed her forehead.
“I’m glad you’re here, Daddy.”
“Me, too.”
He released her, and she raced to the bedroom to join her sister. He stood up and gazed at Pamela. “I can’t believe she’s taken to me so quickly.”
Pamela folded her arms in front of her chest. “She’s always been like that. Bubbly. Outgoing. Ready to give anyone a chance. Forgiving.”
Jack touched his wife’s arm. “I hope someday you’ll be able to forgive me.”
She stepped back. “It’s not that easy, Jack.” Unfolding her arms, she pointed down the hall. “You saw Emma. Not everyone can just pretend that eight years apart was nothing.”
He wanted to nestle Emma close, promise her that he’d never leave her again, that she could count on him to be the daddy she’d deserved from the beginning.
Pamela closed her eyes and wiped her hand down her face. “I shouldn’t have called you. I hadn’t prepared the girls. I was—”
Jack covered the space between them and wrapped his arms around Pamela. She didn’t move and, for a
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