Unexpected Family. Jill Kemerer

for joining us.” Stephanie’s tone was pleasant, assertive, but she couldn’t mask the uncertainty in her eyes. “Macy, this is an old friend of mine, Tom.”

      The girl’s tiny face with creamy skin and raspberry lips stole his breath. Even prettier than her picture. Her faded-blue-jean eyes matched his exactly. It took everything in him not to swoop her up and crush her to him. He knew in an instant he would do anything—anything—for this little girl.

      “Hi, Macy. How’s your arm?” He gestured to the black sling and sat across from her at the table. His knee bounced triple time.

      “It doesn’t hurt. I don’t need this anymore.” She started ripping the Velcro from her sling, but Stephanie placed her hand over it.

      “The doctor said you have to wear it for a few weeks.”

      Macy pushed her bottom lip out. “It’s ’noying, Mama.”

      “I know. But it’s there for your wrist to heal.”

      She grimaced, dunking a chicken nugget into barbecue sauce before taking a nibble. Stephanie’s gaze darted here and there like a wild rabbit’s, and the silence stretched to uncomfortable proportions.

      What now? He had no idea what to say to either of them. Didn’t have much experience with kids. Or ex-wives. If he had known—

      He could have what? Prepared? Yeah, right.

      “Did you want something to eat?” Stephanie’s smile was tight around the edges.

      The bruises couldn’t hide her delicate bone structure, the rich brown of her eyes. Her hair was a little shorter than he remembered, but just as dark and shiny. He’d been so caught up in the revelation of having a daughter, he’d barely registered Stephanie until this moment.

      “Uh.” He hadn’t eaten since lunch, but he wasn’t hungry, either. “I’m not sure.”

      Macy cupped her hand around her mouth as she whispered loudly to Stephanie. “Why is he here if he’s not eating?” Stephanie gave him a pointed look.

      What an idiot. Here he was, a strange guy showing up at their meal and not ordering anything. Even a kid knew it was fishy. No wonder Stephanie worried.

      “Maybe I’ll get a salad.” He rapped his knuckles on the table.

      “Are you sure about that, mister?” Macy frowned. “Salad has lettuce and tomatoes in it. My grandpa always gets a cheeseburger when he comes here.”

      He grinned. “I like cheeseburgers and fries, too, but I have to eat healthy.”

      “Why?”

      “I’m training for a triathlon.”

      She munched on a fry. “What’s a...tri...what’d you call it?”

      “A triathlon. It’s called the IRONMAN competition.”

      “Noah has an Iron Man backpack. Do you get a red suit, too?” Her hopeful expression made him want to tell her yes, he’d be the real Iron Man when he crossed the finish line. But he shook his head.

      “No, it’s not that kind of Iron Man. It’s where a bunch of people swim, ride their bikes and run. It’s a race.”

      “I have to use training wheels. Tatum has pink sparkly streamers on her bike, but mine doesn’t have any.” The pitiful look she gave her mother almost made Tom chuckle. Cute. He could get used to her matter-of-fact tone and still-developing pronunciation. No, he would get used to it.

      “You’re blessed to have a bike at all, Macy.” Stephanie pointed to the Happy Meal. “Keep eating those nuggets.”

      “Yes, Mama.”

      “Do you like swimming, Macy? I live right next to a big lake. My brothers and dad and I go fishing all summer.”

      Stephanie’s wary glance speared him, but he kept his attention on Macy.

      “My grandpa and I make sand castles at the beach. But Mommy and I moved to a ’partment.” She sipped her chocolate milk. “I’m going to tell Noah about the race. He takes swim lessons, but he’s too scared to jump off the board. Do you think if he jumps in the pool, he could be the Iron Man, too?”

      Tom nodded. “Sure. When he gets older. Anyone who finishes the race is an Iron Man.”

      “You silly pants, there’s only one.” She wiggled her finger, and her face lit up.

      Stephanie ran her hand over Macy’s hair. “The IRONMAN Tom’s talking about isn’t what you’re thinking.”

      Best to let Stephanie explain. He went to the register, waited for the salad, then slid back into his seat.

      “I’m going to kin-dee-garden when I’m five.” She held out five splayed fingers with her free hand.

      “Wow, kindergarten.”

      Macy continued, “I can count real high.”

      “How high?” He tore the packet of dressing open and watched her out of the corner of his eye.

      “Real high. One, two, three...”

      When she got to forty-five, Stephanie touched her arm. “Okay, we got it. You’re a good counter.”

      “I can go higher,” she said.

      “Honey, I have no doubt you could count to a million if you put your mind to it, but we need to finish up dinner and head back home. I have a paper to complete.” Stephanie raised the jacket from the back of her chair and draped it over Macy’s shoulders.

      Tom covered his half-eaten salad. What now? Did Stephanie plan on leaving without giving him her contact information? She didn’t think she could just show up, tell him about their daughter and expect life to continue as if nothing happened, did she? This was his child, and whether she liked it or not, he wasn’t disappearing, nor was he going to pretend he was an old friend for long.

      “Before I forget, here.” Stephanie slipped him a piece of paper. “My cell number and home phone. After seven is best. I work and go to school. It gets crazy around dinnertime.” She wrangled Macy’s arm into the jacket but couldn’t quite cover the sling. Then she smiled. “Thanks, Tom, for...everything.”

      “I’ll be in touch.” He stood, holding his hand out to Macy. “Nice to meet you.”

      She took his hand. “Nice to meet you, too.”

      “Till next time.” And he left. In the cool air, his exhilaration and nerves about the meeting seeped out like a leaky tire.

      He’d missed more than four years of her life.

      He unlocked his truck, got in, raised his gaze to the ceiling and rubbed his jaw.

      Macy. Macy Sheffield. He closed his eyes, recalling her sweet face. If only he had a picture of her. What had she looked like as a baby? How had she been? Fussy? No, of course not. Not his darling.

      He started the truck, his thoughts racing as the engine rumbled to life. He’d missed her first tooth. First steps. First words.

      Were there any firsts left? Had he missed them all?

      Checking his mirrors, he backed out of the spot. He wasn’t missing any more of her life. But what would Macy need him for? Nothing came to mind.

      What about the streamers? The pink sparkly streamers. Yeah. And piggyback rides. And ice cream. Every kid liked ice cream. He’d let her pretend to drive the cars in the showroom. Owning two auto dealerships had its perks. Take her to baseball games and buy her Barbies and protect her from boys.

      He’d be the best dad ever.

      And someday he might be able to forgive Stephanie for keeping her from him.