“Wake up, Emma,” a little girl’s voice spoke, breaking the last remnants of the dream.
“Hey, kiddo,” I smiled sleepily, trying to pry my eyes open. “I don’t suppose I can talk you into crawling into bed with me and going back to sleep?”
A quick glance out the window told me Abby was either an early riser or else I’d slept through an entire day. The sky was a blue-black shroud of darkness, just the slightest hint of color peeking up over the horizon. It would be another hour still before the sky lightened enough that I’d consider calling it morning.
“You can’t go back to sleep Emma. We have too much to do today,” Abby said matter-of-factly.
“Oh? What’s on the agenda today, sweetheart?” I asked, giving up all hope of sleeping past five in the morning and sitting up slowly.
“It’s Tuesday. And that’s the day mommy always took me to the park. She called it ‘girl’ time,” she said more quietly than I’d heard her speak before. She was fidgeting with the edge of the blanket, making it clear she was uncertain—not something I’d seen often in Abby. “I don’t know why mommy called it ‘girl’ time though, ‘cause there were boys at the park too. But that’s ok. I didn’t mind them too much. So, I thought…I mean…if it’s OK with you Emma,” she stumbled over her words, eventually letting the thought trail off unfinished.
It wasn’t often Abby was without words. It reminded me that as well-adjusted as she seemed, that didn’t mean there were no underlying issues that would work their way to the surface over time.
“I would love to go with you to the park today, Abby. Thank you for inviting me.”
She beamed brightly, her normal exuberance breaking through, and she bounced off the bed. She came around the bed and started pulling on my arm. As much as I wanted to bury myself back underneath the covers, I couldn’t help but smile and I swung my legs over the side of the bed.
Before I’d stood up, she’d skipped across the room and was hurrying down the hall, no doubt to inform her father of today’s agenda.
Right, her father. Ryan. The walking advertisement for sex. After last night, facing Ryan was not how I wanted to start my day. It wasn’t like much had ended up happening, but it would have. I knew that. Though I’d decided against it, the moment I felt his arms close around me, I’d wanted it more than I could remember wanting anything in my life. But now, with time and distance between us, it was just as much a bad idea as it had been before it had started.
I dragged myself out of bed and somehow managed to pull myself together enough to make it through breakfast without making an utter fool of myself. Ryan didn’t say a word about last night, but every time I looked at him I could feel the heat in his gaze, and my traitorous body couldn’t help butrespond.
It was a relief when we left the house a half hour later, bound for a park a few blocks away. Although all three of us were in the vehicle, it was as if there was some unspoken agreement that nothing could happen so long as Abby was with us. I slowly began to relax as we followed her from one piece of equipment to the next, and I was almost feeling calm when Abby through the both of us for a loop.
“You’re not doing it right!” Abby shrieked at Ryan as he started to push her lightly on the swing. She leaped off the swing, running across the park and crouching beneath the slide.
Ryan stared after her, a stunned expression on his handsome face. It didn’t take me long to figure out what was going on. I knew I was about to overstep the line by a mile, but even though I’d been twenty years old when I lost my mother, I could relate to how Abby was feeling more than Ryan could.
He started forward, the expression on his face making it clear he was diving into unfamiliar territory, but I placed my hand against his chest.
“Ryan…let me,” I whispered, and I thought for a moment he might push right past me, but his shoulders slumped just a little then and he nodded.
I hurried after Abby, trying to make my step look as calm as possible, and I sat down on the grass next to the huddling little body. She wasn’t crying, but I could see the tears glistening in her eyes.
“Would you like to talk about your mother, Abby? It’s OK if you want to,” I tried to coach, without pushing.
“Me and mommy went to the park on Tuesdays,” she said in between sniffles, and then she was silent as if that was the end of the conversation.
“And what else, sweetheart?”
“Mommy was really busy. Mrs. Chester took care of me most of the time. But she was old, and she smelled like cheese. Mommy didn’t smell like cheese.”
I tried to ignore the fist that seemed to clench around my heart. Sadly, what Abby was saying helped to explain why she hadn’t appeared as traumatized by the loss of her mother as other children might seem. It sounded like the woman had spent little time with her daughter. And that made my heart ache doubly so for the child who had lost someone who should have been so prominent in her life…but wasn’t.
“My mommy smelled like lilacs,” I told her, smiling at the memory.
“Did your mommy die, too?” she asked.
“Yes. She died last year. I was away at college when she died so I hadn’t seen her very much, but I was very sad. Even when we don’t get to see our mommies much, it’s still sad when they’re gone, isn’t it?”
She sniffled and nodded, and then crawled out from beneath the slide and plopped down in my lap. I heard Ryan’s footsteps approach from behind seconds later, but he stopped a few feet away. I looked up at him and smiled, trying to let him know the crisis was over—at least for the moment.
5
Emma
The rest of the day passed without a hitch. Abby seemed to recover quickly, and before long she was back to her rambunctious and happy self.