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“From who, good ol’ Demon Daddy?” I laugh and stand. “Whatever, Claire. I need to get out of here and go see about my daughter. I’ll deal with all this family drama later.”
“There are things beyond your memories you need to take the time to discover, Phoenix. Be open to all things, so you can heal.”
I hear the emotion in her voice, and I look at her and cock my head. What does this mean? It seems a little odd that she has so much emotion coming through in what she's saying, but I'm pulling from it because it may be what helps me. Maybe I need to think more about my mother, or what I can remember. Maybe I need to think more about this bastard of a father and what I can do to be free. Maybe I need to talk more to my brothers, even though I don't want to. Maybe I just need to think about Gracie, my saving Grace...
“Okay, fair enough, Doc, I thank you for being here and talking me through all of this. I will see about talking to my daughter and seeing where her thoughts are about getting to know her family—maybe her uncles first and then we can discuss her mother and grandmother…”
Claire nods. “That is a start.”
“For now, I need to go see about my daughter.” I rise from my seat and walk out the door.
Chapter 10
Ienter my apartment, after leaving the blindsiding therapy session at Claire’s. I have a lot on my mind, more than I have had in years. It could be because I blocked all of it out, but within a matter of no time, my daughter’s mother is back in my orbit, and I’m actually contemplating going to see my brothers. Claire has given me much to think about, but I need to focus on Grace right now and see how she feels about all of this. The last thing I want or need is this blasted curse hurting her in any way.
I also need to get something to eat and maybe lay down for a couple of minutes to rest my tired brain. I’m completely exhausted and I feel like I haven’t eaten in a month of Sundays. I will need my strength for this journey up ahead of me.
Smells of food are wafting through the air from the kitchen. I salivate as bacon and eggs are frying on the stove. The older she gets the better she is at cooking.. I don't know where she got it from because I can't boil water to save my life. But now that I think about it, it has to be a trait she got from her mother or maybe even mine... I clicked the door shut with a sniff of the air one more time before I hang my keys on the wall and toss my jacket aside.
“Gracie, baby, I’m home,” I say, thumbing through the mail on the front table.”
“Hey, Dad, I am here in the kitchen, making food. I hope you’re hungry. I made more than I should have, but of course, Beaux will eat some.”
Beau is the West Highland Terrier my daughter insisted we adopt. He of course is sitting right at her feet as she cooks in hopes she will drop something even though she is making him a puppy plate.
I'm ravenous, Baby Girl. You know I will take extra of whatever you are making. Everything smells delicious.” I join her at the stove and watch her sprinkle cheddar cheese on the scrambled eggs.
“Thank you. I’ll put extra on your plate, just one second.” I didn't notice she was wearing her blue tooth until she started talking again into her headset. “Okay, so like I was telling you, I will talk to you later in the week, but Dad is home right now, so I have to go for now.” She listens for a second before she nods and says, ‘goodbye.’
“I'm sorry, I didn’t realize you were on the phone. Who is that you were talking to?” I ask, trying not to be too nosy, but my defenses are up since I know her mother is lurking, and this curse could be an issue for her.
“No one, Dad, just a friend,” she says, turning off the pilot lights and pulling out plates to scoop up eggs and bacon for us and the dog.
“No, seriously, Gracie, who were you talking to?” I’m getting impatient now, because she will not make eye contact with me, and I’ve never known my daughter to lie to me.
“No one, Dad, somebody from school. Do you want hot sauce or sriracha?”
I don't want to press the point because I know I have bigger fish to fry in my conversation with her, but I don't like the fact that she was on the phone with somebody I don't know. I know most of her friends, and they are pretty good kids, but something about this has my hackles up. The fire within me starts to burn deep and slow. She was talking to somebody that I don't want her talking to if she doesn't want to tell me about it.
“Hot sauce is fine, Grace.”
“Hot sauce, okay, you got it, and do you want O.J. or I could make coffee...I know you usually don't like that but…”
She is rambling all while averting her gaze. Something is up.
“Orange juice works,” I say, taking the hot sauce and spicing up my eggs. “What's on your schedule today? I wanted to talk to you about some things.” I’m going to carefully broach this subject and see where it takes us.
“You know just hang out with some friends, go over to the library or maybe um...I don’t know, not really sure yet.” She pours us each a glass of juice, her back is to me.
Again my senses are tingling. My daughter is up to something she doesn't want me to know about, and it's my job to question her.
“Grace, have you been talking to your mother?”
“What?” she turns to me, nearly dropping the glass of juice. “What would make you think that I was talking to Mom?”.
“I've just been having dreams about her, vivid dreams, and after seeing her today, it feels like she's contacted you. Has she reached out or have you heard from any of your uncles or grandparents? Have you anything to tell me at all, Gracie? You would if any of them did right?” My voice sounds panicky even to my own ears, and I watch as my daughter slips into the chair across from me at the kitchen table.
“Dad, I haven't heard from mom in a while.”
