I nod, even though part of me wants to push. “I know. I just… I missed so much. I want to be her father out loud.” However, I do understand that as Mercy's mother, Emily truly does know better than I do what Mercy can or can't handle.
“I get that,” she says gently, cupping my face. “And it will happen. I promise. If you keep showing up, if you stay faithful and steady like you have been these last few weeks, we’ll tell her, together, when the time feels right. Maybe in a few months, after we’ve built something solid again. She already loves you. She just doesn’t know the whole story yet.”
Her words anchor me, after years of feeling like I was on an island no one understood. I pull her closer and press a kiss to her shoulder “I’m not going anywhere. I swear it. You and her… you’re my whole world now.”
She smiles and turns to kiss me. “Then we’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”
That's all I can hope for, and I'm counting the seconds until the next step.
32
EMILY
Mercy is in the yard already, running barefoot through the grass with a sparkly pinwheel she found in the garage, wearing the purple sundress she picked out herself this morning after rejecting three other options I laid out for her. I'm a little nervous today, nagging Dad for starting the grill so early, and Mom for not using the tablecloth clips to pin the tablecloths down against the wind. But it's not their fault.
Jaxon and I decided a few weeks ago that things were going well enough between us that we could introduce him as "Dad" to Mercy. Being Labor Day weekend, I figured a backyard barbeque was in order, but it does nothing to calm my nerves. Jaxon may have proven he can stick around a few months and run his dad's company while Roger was in rehab, but parts of my heart still feel scared at times.
I carry a tray of deviled eggs out the back door and set them on the table next to Mom's potato salad. Leah's sitting in one of the lawn chairs, sunglasses pushed up on her head, nursing a glass of sweet tea and watching Mercy play.
"You're hovering," she says without looking up.
"I'm not hovering. I'm setting up."
"You've rearranged those napkins three times since I sat down." She pulls her sunglasses down and peers at me over the frames. "You okay?" She can read me like a book. Once the Carolina Crumb inspections passed and we opened for business again, we doubled down on our efforts and I made her partner. Now she acts a lot more like my mother, trying to force me to take time off when she knows I need it. I'm grateful for her.
I glance at Mercy, who's now trying to stick the pinwheel into the ground near the fence. "I'm fine. Just want everything to go smoothly today." I told her last week what our plan is for today and she respects it. She hasn't said anything directly, but I think she expected me to move faster than I have. But taking my time and being cautious is the only thing I know that will keep me from backing out of this. Slow and steady wins the race.
She doesn't push it, which I appreciate. She just takes another sip and leans back in her chair.
The gate creaks open and Jaxon comes through with Roger a few steps behind him. Jaxon's carrying a case of sodas in one hand and a small gift bag in the other. The second I see that bag, my stomach does a full somersault. He told me about the necklace last week—a delicate gold chain with Mercy's name on it. He was so nervous showing it to me, I thought he'd break it, but I told him it was perfect. Mercy will love it, and I just know I'm going to break down crying yet again. It seems like that's all I do lately is break down crying.
Roger trails behind him in a clean button-down shirt, tucked into his jeans. He looks so much healthier and well rested now.He's been going to AA meetings twice a week and hasn't touched a drink in over two months. I can see the difference.
Jaxon catches my eye and grins. He tucks the gift bag behind his back when Mercy looks his way. "Jaxon!" she yells, abandoning the pinwheel and sprinting across the grass toward him. He crouches down and catches her in a hug, lifting her off her feet for a second before setting her back down.
"Hey, kiddo. You look fancy today." He pops a kiss on her cheek and tousles her hair, which she refused to let me braid. The kid is a tomboy through and through. It'll be a wonder if she's not chasing boys around punching them when she's thirteen.
"It's purple," she announces, spinning so the skirt fans out around her. "And it's twirly!"
"I can see that. Very cool." The smile on his face is priceless. Jaxon's been in therapy now with a VA counselor and he's really working hard on taming that temper. It's PTSD, which doesn't surprise me at all. I've heard a few of his stories and I know just how much his time overseas affected him. I'm so proud of his efforts to become the best father and partner I could ever hope for.
Mercy grabs his hand and starts pulling him toward the fence. "Come look at my pinwheel. It spins really fast if you blow on it."
He lets her drag him away, glancing back at me with an apologetic look, but how can I be upset? He loves her—that's more than I could ever hope for. I've watched him settle into her world over the past two months with a patience I didn't know he had.
Roger makes his way over to Dad at the grill. The two of them stand there shoulder to shoulder looking down at the charcoaltalking about how to properly cook meat. Then Dad reaches into the cooler and then catches himself, pulling back the beer he grabbed. Even that is heartwarming, to see my family embracing Jaxon's. Chelsie would have loved this.
"Sorry, Rog. I forgot. You want a Coke instead?"
Roger waves him off easily. "Coke's good. Thanks, Tom."
Dad fishes out a can and hands it over. They clink drinks and go back to discussing meat preparation and barbeque sauces.
Mom comes out the back door with a pitcher of lemonade and starts filling cups on the table.
"Susan, where do you want me to put the buns?" Leah asks, holding up a bag she pulled from somewhere.
"Right next to the condiments, honey. Tom, are those burgers almost ready?"
