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And all this time, he only did it to save her.
To get her out of that hospital bed and back into my arms.
How could I not do the same for him?
* * *
Hanson
After
We stop at Dirk’s Diner just across the Mexican border from Texas. It’s far enough from any law enforcement that I feel safe enough to take a quick breather outside.
I don’t think they know where we are anyway. I saw my face on the news when I was passing through, but I haven’t seen any cops around for miles, so I don’t think anyone called them on me either.
It’s like no one cares around here, which is good. Gives me enough time to decide where I’m going to take Daisy. Where we’re going to settle down. Maybe I should visit some friends down in Mexico City. They might have a job for me so I can provide for her. A safe job—not the kind that gets you killed but the hardworking kind. I’m not risking my life over money. Daisy needs to grow up with her daddy … somewhere where she’ll feel at home.
Daisy was scared of me at first. She wasn’t screaming, but she was definitely crying when we got into her mom’s truck. I felt bad, but it needed to be done, so I explained to her that we were going on vacation for a bit, and her mom would join us soon.
What else was I supposed to say? At least this made her less fearful at the time.
And now that we’ve gotten a chance to bond, we’ve become best buds.
Speaking of, I still need to hand her the letter. The moment she saw her name on the envelope, it was over. She’s been asking about it the entire drive here, wanting to know how and where I got it, and when she’s allowed to read it. I explained her auntie hid them away and that a friend of mine picked them up for me, but she kept asking for more, so I had to stop explaining halfway through. She’s too young to understand anyway.
“Daddy, can I see the letter now?” she asks as I take off my seat belt.
I sigh and glance at her over my shoulder. “All right, all right.” I rummage in my bag and take it out.
“Who is it from?” she asks as I hand it to her.
“Your momma.” I wink.
She makes an o-shape with her mouth and then jumps up and down, almost tearing the envelope. “Yay!”
She tries to open it with her little hands, but it takes her so long she gets frustrated and hands it to me. I swiftly tear it open and hand it back. “There you go.”
“Thank you!” She pulls out the paper and reads the letter, taking her time to pronounce each word.
Dear Daisy,
You’ll probably never read this letter, but I want you to know that at least I tried. I’ve told your auntie Dana to hold on to the letters I send her until I get the chance to hand them to you myself. As much as I want to, I can’t be with you right now. But I promise it won’t be long. I’ll be with you soon again, before you even know it.
I know you’ll be good. I know you’ll do great out there in the world.
And you know … I will find you again.
Love,
Mommy
When she’s done reading out loud, there are tears in her eyes, but she wipes them away with swift hands.
“I wanna see her,” she mumbles.
It breaks my heart to hear her say that, but what can I do? This is the choice Lillian made. The choice we both made when we decided to value Daisy’s life over our own. I still don’t regret making that choice, and I promised myself I never would, for her sake.
But she doesn’t need to know any of that. I won’t ever tell her how she survived. I want her to grow up without fear, without feeling judged for someone else’s actions. I want her to be young … innocent.
And if that means not letting her see her mom, then so be it. Bringing a kid this young to jail would definitely scar her, not to mention the fact that they’d arrest me on sight. That’s the last thing either of us wants to happen.
So I sigh, and say, “We can’t, at least not right now.” I grab her hand and squeeze. “But you’ll see her again real soon, I promise.”
“Will Mommy come to our new house too?” she asks.
“Someday, honey, when she’s ready,” I say, rubbing her head. “But first … who wants some pancakes?”
She throws her hand high up in the air, her face lighting up like a million light bulbs. “Me, Daddy, me!”
I do love it when she calls me daddy.
It makes me feel like less of a criminal … and more of a man.
