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My confidence with Erin grew with every contact between us, and although I felt hesitant when she called me Mom, I had learned to accept the title I hadn’t felt I’d earned.
* * *
Weekly calls to Mom still hadn’t prompted an honest conversation with my dad about his granddaughter. At the back of my mind, I would have bet she had banked on the assumption I’d have hated to see him hurt.
Unfortunately for her, since Erin’s re-appearance, that whole sad story was no longer only about me and my mother. My daughter had gone to lengths to find her identity and my father had a beautiful granddaughter he had never met. He and Marnie had a right to know about Erin because despite the shock and heartache they might have felt, it was long past the time I told my truth.
“Grr, I’m tired of my mom pushing this back. She obviously thinks I’m too chicken to do it, but I’m going to tell them myself,” I said, scowling toward James. I huffed as I threw my cell on the table after I had tried to call her cell that morning and it had gone to voicemail.
James looked up at me and for a second, I forgot to be mad because he looked so sexy with his still wet, slicked back hair and his freshly shaven face. I loved how he smelled straight from the shower, with his hint of cologne and bodywash mix.
Best of all, he wore his thick black-rimmed eyeglasses while he read some company report. Slowly, he took them off and put the paperwork down, giving me his full attention.
“Okay, how do you want to do this?” he asked, staring at me over the breakfast table after hearing the message I’d left for my mother.
“I’m going to tell Marnie we’re going over there, and we have something we want to talk to them about.”
James leaned over the table and placed his hand over mine. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”
“Absolutely. My dad is almost eighty years old. Don’t you think he deserves to know the family lineage doesn’t stop with us before he leaves this world?
“You have a point, but what do you think knowing about Erin will do to him?”
“Do you think I’m being selfish?” I asked, narrowing my eyes and studying James’ face.
“No, baby … I don’t,” he said, reaching across the table and covering my hand with his, “but it’s tricky. He is an old man, and what happens to him and your mom’s relationship afterward?” I cringed, because no matter what I did someone would undoubtedly suffer.
“You think I shouldn’t do it? What if you were my dad? Would you want to know or stay ignorant?”
James held his breath and thought for a while, then exhaled. “What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him?” he asked, tentatively his eyes boring into mine like he was torn for an answer.
“You wouldn’t want to know?”
“This isn’t about me, so I could only answer for myself, not your father. I can’t tell you what to do, Tricia. You know him better than me. I’ve met the man once, and although I thought he appeared kind and sensitive, I don’t know him. You have one doozy of a dilemma, that’s for sure,” he took my hand in his, leaned over and kissed my fingertips, “but whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”
Picking up my knife, I grabbed a piece of toast, buttered it, and bit off a huge chunk. Chewing it slowly, I sat quietly, imagining all the ways my news could possibly be taken. When thoughts turned to my mother, I had felt so frustrated tears threatened to rise. I swallowed them back in defiance because although there was no good way to share my news, it had still felt too big of a secret to hold on to.
James rose from the table, came around to my side of it, and kissed me on top of my head. He left his face in my hair for a moment longer, inhaling the fragrance I knew he loved.
“I could stand here all day smelling you,” he murmured, and I chuckled, his nearness immediately calmed me. “But …” He inhaled again and stood straight. “I’d better start getting ready. I have back-to-back meetings today. What time are you leaving for New Jersey?” I sighed because after a year, my back and forth trips to New Jersey had begun to get old.
When I’d first gotten with James, he’d suggested our living arrangements. I stayed in New York Monday through Wednesday. Thursdays, I spent in New Jersey at my own place, catching up on closings and other paperwork that had required my signature. Fridays to Sunday afternoons, James stayed with me before we’d travel back to the city on Sunday evenings.
I’d been restless about the toing and froing for a while, but although James had asked me to move in officially, I had begun to suspect our existing living arrangements had been pretty well set in his mind.
I was still thinking about this as I shook myself out of my robe and stepped into the shower. The moment my hair was wet, my cell phone rang.
“Would you grab that, James?” I asked, opening the shower door again. Closing the door, I washed and rinsed my hair, thinking James had taken a message.
“Who was it?” I called out, as I basked in the warmth of the fine needle sprays. I cocked my head and listened for a response. When James never replied, I thought he hadn’t heard me until I turned to wash my face and heard him open the door. Glancing toward, him I noted his shirt buttons were still undone and he wasn’t dressed. Leaning past me, he turned the faucet off and held out a towel.
“Can you come out, baby?” he asked in a gentle tone, holding the bath sheet up to wrap around me.
“What? What’s wrong?” I asked, instantly alarmed as I searched his worried eyes with concern.
“Let me dry you and we can talk,” he pleaded, as he began wrapping the towel around me as I stood stiffly, dripping wet in the shower.
“What the hell is it, James, you’re scaring me?” I shrieked, as he caught me in the warmth of the bath sheet, pulled me out of the shower, and into his chest.
