Mercy's eyes scrunch up and narrow. She cocks her head to the side and pushes her lips out in a purse. At first I think she's going to get upset, but then her face relaxes.
"You're my dad?" she asks finally, and her voice is smaller than usual.
"Yeah, sweetheart. I am."
She looks at me. "Is that true, Mommy?" Her head cocks the other way, testing me. Of course she'd test me. I'm Mom. I know everything.
My throat's so tight I can barely get the words out. "It's true, baby. Jaxon's your daddy."
She looks back at him and lifts her eyebrows. "Then where were you?"
The question is an honest one, but it's painful. That reality is so much more my fault than his, and the same swirling guilt I've felt for months comes back with a vengeance. Jaxon's jaw works, but he doesn't look away from her.
"Well, honey, I was a soldier," he says. "I had to go far away for a long time, and when I came back I wasn't feeling very good. It took me a while to get better so I could come find you and your mom. But I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere."
Mercy processes this with her brow furrowed. "A soldier? Did you have a gun?"
Jaxon half-laughs, half-sighs. "Yeah. I did."
"Did you wear a helmet?" I see her warming to this, being inquisitive. It makes me smile and hide it behind my hand.
"Every day."
"I have to wear a helmet on my bike," she says, and just like that, the tension breaks. Jaxon's face cracks open into the widest smile I've ever seen on him. His eyes are streaming and he doesn't even bother wiping the tears from his cheeks. She has accepted this as fact and found a way to connect with him more simply than I could ever have imagined.
Mercy looks at him crying and her expression shifts to something tender that I didn't know an eight-year-old was capable of. She reaches out and puts her small hand on his cheek.
"Don't cry," she says. "It's okay."
Jaxon covers her hand with his and closes his eyes for a second. When he opens them, he picks up the gift bag from under his chair. I have to fight back my own tears now too to not distract from this moment. This is all his, and I want it to be that way.
"I got you something," he chokes out. "I wanted to give it to you today because today is special."
Mercy takes the bag and pulls out the small box inside and opens it. When she holds it up, her eyes light up.
"It says my name," she whispers, and her smile beams. Her whole face lights up. It's so much better than I hoped.
"It does. So you always know how important you are to me."
She holds it out to me. "Mommy, put it on."
My hands are trembling as I take the necklace and fasten it around her neck. She touches the little nameplate with her fingertips, looking down at it against her purple dress.
Then she turns to Jaxon and climbs out of her chair and into his lap. She wraps her arms around his neck and puts her face against his shoulder, and Jaxon holds her like he's been waiting his whole life for exactly this moment. Because he has.
I sit there watching them with tears running down my face now and I don't bother wiping them away this time. My whole world feels complete now and I never thought it could ever feel so good.
Mercy pulls back and looks at Jaxon's face. "Can I still call you Jaxon?"
He laughs, so full of joy. "You can call me whatever you want, kiddo."
She thinks about this for a second. "What about Dad?"
I press my hand to my mouth. Jaxon pulls her back against his chest and holds on.
"Yeah," he says into her hair. "Dad works."
33
