Page 95 of Holding Ground

“I made it at school.” She holds out the piece of paper, and I take it from her.

I look at it and still. My heart rate doubles when I realize what I’m looking at. It’s a rudimentary drawing, but it’s clear that the stick figures depict Baylor between Emelia and me, the two of us holding hands. There’s a lopsided pink heart above our heads, and green grass beneath our feet.

“Is this me?” I point at the only stick figure with short brown hair.

“That’s you and me. And Emelia!” Her big eyes are so blue and full of happiness.

I’m conflicted because I have no right to be surprised. Deep down, I knew we were headed here. Her relationship with Emelia is special. She wants a mother figure in her life.

Baylor deserves to have a mother in her life. Maybe it will be her own, maybe not.

“It’s wonderful, kiddo. Thank you.” I pull her into a hug, savoring this moment before I change her life as she knows it. “Would it be okay with you if I put this on the fridge so I can look at it all the time?”

“Good idea.” She squeezes me back.

“All right, kiddo. Why don’t you go put it on the fridge, and then I want to talk to you about something.”

She does as I ask while I go take a seat at the kitchen table. When she turns back around, beaming, I motion for her to come sit on my lap. After Baylor climbs up, I shift her sideways so her legs dangle between mine, and she can see my face. She swings her legs back and forth, looking up at me with the innocence that only a child has.

God, I hope I’m not about to break that innocence in her.

“I wanted to talk to you about something and see how you feel about it, kiddo. The other day…” I swallow hard, knowing that once the words are out, I can’t snatch them back. “The other day, I heard from your mother.”

She straightens right up, mouth open, eyes wide. “My mommy is back?”

There’s no denying that’s excitement on her face. I can only hope she won’t end up disappointed.

“Well, she’s visiting, and I’m not sure how long she’ll be able to stay. It could be only a short time.” She frowns when I say that, and I remind myself that it’s important that I set the right expectations for her from the start. “She wanted to know if it would be okay for her to see you.”

Baylor’s arms swing out and wrap around my neck. “I get to meet my mommy?” She’s squeezing so tight with excitement, it pitches me forward.

“If you want to.”

She drops her arms from around my neck and hops down off my leg, standing in front of me, jumping up and down. “I want to. Can I meet her now?”

“Not tonight, kiddo. But she’s going to come over here after school tomorrow for a short visit.”

Baylor squeals and claps her hands in front of herself. “I have to go draw her a picture for when she gets here.” With that, she runs out of the kitchen.

Fuck. I hope this is the right call.

I finish cleaning the kitchen, make Baylor’s lunch for the next day, then get her ready for bed. By the time she’s settled and I’m reading her a bedtime story, she’s already drawn two pictures for Kate, one of her and me in the boat on the lake, and the other of everyone in the family, including Kate. It just about breaks me when she asks what color her mom’s hair is. That’s something a daughter who’s turning six in a couple of months should know.

That thought settles the conflict in my mind. I have no idea how this will turn out with Kate, but Baylor deserves to meet her. I’ll shield her as best I can and hope like hell Kate means what she’s saying for Baylor’s sake.

Once Baylor has drifted off, I text Emelia to see if she wants to meet me on the dock now that Baylor is in bed.

I have the heater going by the time she joins me, nestling into my side on the lounger under the blanket I brought out with me.

“How did it go?”

I blow out a breath. “Baylor is excited to see Kate tomorrow, like I figured she would be. Ran right off after I told her and drew a couple of pictures to give her.”

For some reason, I find myself wanting to tell her about the picture Baylor drew of the three of us that’s now on my fridge, but I don’t. What would be the point?

Emelia places a hand on my chest. “You’re doing the right thing.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, letting my thumb stroke her shoulder. “Am I? I’ve gone back and forth with myself about a thousand times today.”