Page 106 of Holden’s Resurrection

There was something about how he touched the images, reverently, worshipfully, adoringly. And the way he stared at the pages of the album as Faith flipped through, like he was trying to soak in the memory.

It was both heartbreaking and heartwarming. He’d missed out on everything.

Faith got to the last page and announced, “That’s all of them.”

“But you’re eight,” Holden retorted.

“Mom hasn’t made that one yet.”

“You haven’t?”

“I make them right before her birthday,” I explained.

“And on my birthday we look back over the year. It’s a tradition.”

I smiled at Faith’s excitement. What had started as me spending my daughter’s birthday looking back over the last year with a sadness only a mother understands, reminiscing, noting how much she’d changed and grown, had turned into something more. And I loved that Faith was always anxious to look at the album I made her.

“So on your ninth birthday, you’ll get your eight-year-old album?”

“Yep.”

Holden looked over at me and my breath caught—unbridled emotion. He wasn’t hiding anything from me and in turn, he wasn’t hiding anything from our daughter. He was showing us both he’d enjoyed looking over Faith’s life.

“That’s cool of you, Leigh-Leigh.”

“Does this mean you’ll stay and be my dad?”

Every muscle in my body contracted, my eyes felt like they were bugging out of my face, and I would swear I was experiencing heart failure. I couldn’t feel it beating, or maybe it was beating so fast that it was one continuous flutter, making me light-headed.

“Wh…what?” I stammered, unable to get my breathing steady enough to ask more.

To Holden’s credit, he didn’t look as freaked out as I did. Actually, he was grinning.

“Why would you ask that, doll?”

Faith shrugged.

“Because you’re my dad, right?”

No, I was experiencing heart failure now, and I was definitely dizzy. When neither of the two adults in the room spoke—which would’ve been the thing to do, except I was having an out-of-body episode and Holden looked like he was in shock—Faith looked between us, then continued.

“You’ll stay this time, right?”

Holden’s shoulders jerked and his torso followed. Thankfully, we were sitting down or Holden would’ve fallen on his ass.

There was no malice in Faith’s question, just innocent intrigue.

“Yeah, Faith, I’m staying. And, yes, I’m your dad.”

“And that’s why you wanted to look at my books?”

“Yeah. I wanted to see everything I missed. It’s not the same, nothing will ever make up for the time I missed out on being with you and being your dad. But I still want to see the pictures and hear all the stories.”

Faith nodded like she was a thirty-five-year-old woman and she found Holden’s answer acceptable. I, on the other hand, was confused. Unless my daughter had somehow come into magical powers that included mind reading, I wanted to know how Faith knew Holden was her dad. Unless she was just being an eight-year-old girl who wanted a dad however that came to be.

“Why’d you ask if Holden was your dad?” I’d softened my question with a smile, but when my daughter bit her lip I wasn’t sure if I’d succeeded. “Honey, I’m just asking why you’d think he’s your dad.”

“He is, right? And he’s gonna stay with us. He won’t leave this time?” Faith’s voice had gone shrill and her eyes darted around the room.