Before the Dawn by Kate Hewitt

was done.  He’d never been in touch, never explained, and Annabel couldn’t remember him at all.  Several years later Tracey discovered he’d died in a car crash. 
    “She needs a father,” Tracey told me.  “Someone to guide her, besides me.” I wanted to be that father... that daddy.  Yet, I couldn’t help but worry that it would all go wrong. I didn’t know the first thing about fatherhood,  I’d never spent any time around small children. So I remained half-afraid that I would do something to bring my fragile relationship with Annabel tumbling down like a child’s tower of bricks.
    I shouldn’t have worried, not then.  Annabel accepted me with surprising ease.  It was as if she’d been waiting for a father, and knew at once that with me she’d found one at last.  I remember the first outing we had alone together.
    “You’ll be fine,”  Tracey urged me.  “The two of you need some bonding time.”
    Afraid of failing what seemed like a critical test, I did everything I could to win Annabel over... a trip to the zoo, ice creams, lollies, balloons... if she pointed at it, I bought it.  Looking back, I can see it was the wrong way to go about it.  Annabel would’ve been just as happy walking to the park.
    As it was, I returned her to Tracey overtired and wired on too much sugar, at six o’clock at night.  Tracey gave me a bemused look as Annabel raced around the lounge, moving between laughter and tears, her hands and face still sticky from the candy floss.
    “You had a good time then?”
    “I think so.”
    Tracey shook her head.  “Annabel wants to be with you, Mike.  You don’t need to buy her love.  Just be yourself... trust your instincts.”
    What instincts, I wanted to say.  For a confirmed bachelor, this fatherhood thing was not easy.  I so wanted to get it right.
    It turned out that I couldn’t have children, just one of those inexplicable things.  Tracey and I didn’t mind... Annabel was enough.
    Then Annabel turned thirteen.  All of a sudden, this shy girl-child was raging with hormones, demanding things like pierced ears, blue eyeshadow and dates with boys.  I was bewildered by it all, and clearly out of my depth. Even Tracey, who seemed to know it all, struggled with Annabel’s tantrums and door slamming.
    “I know this is typical teenager behavior,” she said tiredly one evening after Annabel had flounced up to her bedroom. “But honestly,” Tracey continued, “how long is this going to go on?”
    All parents struggle with the teen years, I knew that.  Yet it felt different for me, because I’d come into the fatherhood game late, and was still learning the rules.
    “We’re all learning the rules,” Tracey insisted when I told her of my own fears.  “I’ve been the parent of a teenager just as long as you have, Mike.”
    Of course, the inevitable happened... or it felt like it was inevitable to me.  We had a big row, Annabel and I, which was nothing new in itself.  I can’t even remember what it was about... makeup, clothes, or boys, no doubt. 
    “You can’t tell me what to do,”  Annabel shouted, her face flushed with anger.  “You’re not my real father, and you never will be!”
    The words caused something to freeze within me.  Annabel’s eyes glittered with malicious victory, as if she sensed the power her simple statement had over me.  I hesitated, wondering how to respond.
    Any sensible man, I know now, would have told her that was rubbish, he was her father in every way that mattered.  Any sensible man would have seen the glint of insecurity and fear beneath the tantrum, and given her a hug, perhaps told her he’d always be there for her.
    Looking back, I know that’s what I should have done... what I wished I’d done. At the time, I was too shocked, too unsure to do anything but step back.  “No, I’m not,” I said quietly.  “But--”
    Annabel slammed the door, and still at a loss, I retreated downstairs.
    I can’t be