He shook his head, stroking the back of my hair. “Because if he were any kind of man, he would be here. Heshouldbe here.”
“I don’t need him,” I rasped.
“You don’t. Neither does Katty. That doesn’t change anything, does it?”
I’d gone through every stage of grief since that day in Denver. For a while, I’d gotten stuck on anger, and there were days I was still there—especially when Kateryna was born and I fell in love with her. I wondered how any parent could be willing to missthis. How could he not want to look into the face of the person who was half him and find out each one of her secrets?
“No.” I dragged my finger along the curve of my daughter’s cheek. “It doesn’t change a single thing.”
Ben should have been part of Kateryna’s life. He should have wanted this. But I had accepted long ago we were never going to have that.
Today was one of the days I was still angry at him for not being here.
But there was no reason to dwell. It was what it was. My family might have looked a little different, but we were safe, loved, and cared for. That was all that mattered.
Two Years Later…
My dad walked in, shut the door, and closed his eyes as he leaned against it. If Katty were awake, she would have run to him and knocked her glasses askew to hug his legs as hard as she could.
She loved herdidomore than Cheerios and Play-Doh.
But Katty was down for her nap, so he didn’t have to put on a brave face and smile through the pain, even though he tried, for my sake.
“Dad.” I took his hand, gently pulling him away from the door. “Come sit down. Let’s talk.”
I would have gone with him to his latest doctor’s appointment, but my babysitter had fallen through, so he’d gone alone. The defeat in his shoulders and lines in his face made my stomach tighten into barbed knots.
We sat together at our small table, Katty’s high chair between us. I made him ginger tea—one of the few things he couldconsistently keep down—and waited for him to drink half before I couldn’t take another second of silence.
“What did they say?”
He set the mug down with a clunk, keeping his hands wrapped around it. He was cold all the time, even with a beanie on his bald head and layers of sweaters and scarves.
“Mazzy…I’m sorry,” he rasped.
I shook my head. “No.No. Don’t start that way. Nothing good can come after that. Start again—differently this time.”
He reached for my hand, folding his frail fingers over mine. I’d once thought his hands could beat back the world and hold me tight at the same time, but now…they were so breakable. Like they would turn into dust at any moment and blow away.
How could it all have changed so quickly? A year ago, he was just my dad, with his white tufts of hair and easy laugh. Then his throat had started to hurt, and he’d gotten a stomachache that wouldn’t go away.
Now…now, his hair was a distant memory, and his laugh was so strained, I hated to hear it.
He was supposed to be getting better. In what world was it possible for both my parents to fade in the same way? It wasn’t right. It couldn’t be…
“It’s time, Mazzy,” he said. “Treatment isn’t working, and I’m old and tired.”
My eyes slammed closed. If I could have, I would’ve closed my ears too. But I had to hear this. There was no getting out of it.
“I can’t do this without you,” I whispered through preemptive grief and dread. Because it was true. My dad was my backbone. He was more than a grandad; he was a second parent to Katty. Without him, we’d just be two, and what kind of family would that be? We were perfect as three. I didn’t know if we’d be able to stand without him. IfIwould be able to stand…
“I have a plan,” he started, each word heaved from the final depths of his strength. “I called my sister in Colorado.”
“You called Aunt Barb?” That was almost as shocking as his first news. My dad wasn’t close to his younger sister and hadn’t spoken to his parents since he’d left home. As far as I could remember, I’d met my aunt once, at my papa’s funeral. She’d hugged me and smelled like lavender. “Why?”
He squeezed my fingers. “It’s not going to be easy, me going. I don’t know how long it’ll take, but you can’t handle it on your own. And after…I don’t want you and Katty to be alone.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying. He didn’t need that. He wanted to talk logistics, to set his mind at ease. No matter how devastated I was, I had to give him that. There would be plenty of time for crying. The rest of my life. For now, I had to be the one he could lean on.
