Page 98 of Holding Ground

“I would love to see your Barbies.”

Baylor holds out her hand for Kate to take. She glances at me. When I nod, she takes her daughter’s hand to be led out of the room. But before she disappears around the corner, Kate looks back at me over her shoulder with an expression that holds gratitude, and grief, and fear, and hope.

They go down the hall to Baylor’s bedroom, where I listen from the hallway, giving them a moment to themselves, but one I can still oversee.

Forty-five minutes later, Kate is at the door, saying her goodbyes. “It was really great to get to spend some time with you today, Baylor. I had fun.”

Baylor beams at her mother. “Me too.” She spins around and fixes her eyes on me. “Daddy, can she stay for dinner?”

Something hard and painful lodges in my throat. “Maybe another time, kiddo.”

Her shoulders fall a little, but she seems to accept it. “Will I see you again?”

Kate’s gaze moves up to me.

“We’ll figure something out. Why don’t you say goodbye? I want to talk to Kate outside before she goes.”

Baylor takes a few steps forward and wraps her arms around Kate’s legs, the way she does with the people she loves and trusts.

Kate’s eyes close as if she’s savoring the moment, and she rests her hands on Baylor’s back. When her eyes open again, there are tears, one sliding down her cheek. She quickly wipes it away before Baylor sees.

“Thank you for letting me spend some time with you.” She says the words to Baylor, but she’s looking at me.

I nod.

They separate, and Kate reluctantly opens the door.

“Why don’t you go play in your room? I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Baylor nods and walks across the family room to the bedroom hallway, looking back over her shoulder several times.

I follow Kate out of the house, over to her car.

“Thank you, Elliott. That meant so much to me.”

Pushing my hands into my pockets, I nod.

“I think I did okay. I mean, she seemed comfortable with me, right?”

“She was happy to finally meet her mother.”

Kate presses her lips together. “I was so nervous that I wouldn’t know what to say or how to put her at ease. You were always better at that kind of thing than I was. You could always figure it out.”

My jaw sets. “I figured it out because I stayed.”

Her head snaps back from the blow. I’m not trying to be a dick, I’m really not, but sometimes it feels impossible to set aside the resentment I feel for her abandoning our child.

She drops her chin and nods. “That’s fair.”

Neither of us says a word.

Eventually, she raises her head. “Can I see her again?” Her eyes are filled with hope.

Why does it feel just as hard to say yes to another visit as it did to the first one?

“Yes, but I want to give it some breathing room. Not tomorrow. The next day. I’ll reach out to you.”

Her hands press together as if in prayer. “Thank you, Elliott.”