Take This Regret (16 page)

In silence, I listened as Christian, Claire, and Lizzie chattered nonstop. Claire asked Lizzie countless questions about her life, what she liked, what she didn’t like. Claire sat sideways in her seat, her attention focused on my child and her son. The hardest to hear were the stories she told Lizzie of Christian when he was a child. Adoration radiated from her as she described a curious little boy, how inquisitive he had been and the trouble it had continual y gotten him in. Claire would reach out and caress Christian’s shoulder or his forearm and sometimes even held his hand.

I stared at them, unable to comprehend what was happening in front of me. It was as if she wasn’t even the same woman. The woman I
had
known, Christian had been little more than indifferent to, and I’d al but despised her, believing in my heart that she didn’t even love her own child.

But now—

I shook my head, embarrassed when I caught Christian’s eye in the rearview mirror when I did so, even though I couldn’t look away. He smiled softly, as if he were reiterating that she wasn’t who I thought she was, that she was wonderful and lovely and that I shouldn’t try to stop the fondness for her building up within me.

I tore my attention away, forcing it out the window to the world happening outside this car because it was impossible to bear what was happening inside. I wiped the tears that began to run down my face, tears of frustration for being thrown into the midst of this reunion, tears of anger that it was happening now, five years late, and worst of al , tears of relief shed for the knowledge that Christian’s mother loved him. Those tears scared me most.

Twenty minutes later, we pul ed into the vast parking lot of Sea World, already overflowing with cars. The three of them scrambled out. I stal ed, taking my time to adjust my backpack while I tried to get myself together.

The cool morning mist had begun to dissipate, and bright rays of sunlight broke through, warming my skin. If we were here under any other circumstances, I would have thought this was the perfect day to spend here.

“Mommy, are you coming?” Lizzie yel ed over her shoulder, looking back at me from where Claire and Christian had her flanked, a hand in each of theirs and standing about fifty feet away.

Nodding, I slung my backpack over my shoulders.

“Right behind you.” Christian grinned in what could only be construed as pure excitement, while Claire gazed back somewhat sympathetical y as if she knew how hard this was on me, though I was sure no one else could understand the kind of torture this would be.

I stayed at least ten steps behind them, careful to keep a distance. Lizzie squealed with delight as they traveled across the parking lot. Christian and Claire swung her into the air every few steps. Their laughter rang out, high and low, melodious—joyous—a stark contrast to the resentment I felt inside. I couldn’t believe Christian was carrying on as if this were
normal
, as if I belonged here with them, as if he hadn’t bul dozed me into suffering through this day.

We fel in line at the ticket booth; the three of them stil hand-in-hand while I kept a smal amount of space between us.

Christian stepped forward, next in line, passing a credit card through the window. “Three adults and one child.”

“Christian, no,” I said, snaking around him to give my debit card to the woman.

“Elizabeth.” His voice managed to hiss and plead at the same time. “Just let me pay. Please.” I shook my head in stubborn petulance. “I don’t want your money, Christian.”

Darkness clouded his expression, and he lowered his voice, inclining his head toward me. “I know, Elizabeth, you never have. You never even asked for what was yours.” Disarmed by the sadness I saw in his eyes, I found myself too shocked to resist any longer. I stepped back and self-consciously tucked my card back into my shorts pocket, terrified at how easily he’d just persuaded me.

Christian handed each of us a ticket. I accepted mine somewhat reluctantly, my attention directed to the ground as I muttered thanks under my breath, wishing not to owe him my gratitude. I glanced up to find him staring, his lips pursed, pensive. He opened his mouth as if to speak but closed it and jerked his attention away.

“You ready, sweetheart?” Christian’s reached for Lizzie, the fervor back in his voice, though it sounded somewhat forced.

“Yep!” Lizzie accepted his hand, skipping beside him as they bounded toward the gates.

Disinclination weighed down my feet, and I trudged along behind them, grunting at the man who accepted my ticket and wished me a good day.

That would be impossible.

I spent the morning as an intruder in their trinity, in the outskirts of their pleasure. Christian met each exhibit with unadulterated wonder, as a child in awe. I kept up my reluctant pursuit as they wandered through habitats, observed them as they marveled at sharks and dolphins and whales with sheer fascination. But their captivation with their surroundings paled in comparison to the enchantment they seemed to find with my little girl.

If it were possible, Christian had not once lost contact with Lizzie. Her hand was continual y in his, and when her feet grew tired, he didn’t hesitate to swing her onto his back. Lizzie kept an eye on me to assure that I was never far behind, her precious face urging me near. Christian cast glances my way, mindful, though he rarely lingered; his attention was focused on my daughter.

“Daddy, this is my very favorite!” Lizzie gushed as we approached the pools, and she rushed forward to stand on her tiptoes to dip her fingers into the water. Bat rays circled, and Lizzie stroked their backs as they floated by.

Christian leaned over the pool, his first touch tentative as he reached out, just grazing his fingertips along the edge of a smal ray’s wing. He looked at Lizzie and then at me, unable to contain the thril spil ing from his smile.

“This is incredible.” He shook his head just as mesmerized as Lizzie was as he sunk his hand into the water, this time running the palm of his hand down the center of the ray’s back.

“Aren’t they pretty, Daddy?” Lizzie asked, trailing her fingers lightly over the creatures soaring through the water.

Christian ran the back of his hand down her cheek and under her chin, his expression tender. “Beautiful,” he said, clearly speaking only of Lizzie.

I had to turn away, away from what I saw but refused to believe—away from what I’d seen every time he’d been with her.

He couldn’t love her. He just
couldn’t
. She was just a distraction; that’s al . This, whatever it was, was unsustainable, fleeting. I had to hold fast to that belief.

Anything else would render us weak, vulnerable, and I couldn’t afford to leave myself without adequate defenses.

In my discomfort, the morning passed slowly. Each minute dragged in measure with my feet. The four of us ate lunch at a table that was much too smal . Extreme effort was lunch at a table that was much too smal . Extreme effort was spent focusing on my food and not the constant jokes Christian made, Lizzie’s laughter infectious as she giggled over the sil iness exuded by her father. He was playful, unabashedly so, making no excuses for the ridiculous faces he made, his only concern to garner a reaction from Lizzie.

He looked so much like the man I once thought him to be.

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, one I refused to release. I bit my lip, cursing Christian’s ability to wear me down, asking myself, more importantly, why I was al owing him to do it.

Relief swept over me when he final y stood to gather our garbage, piled it on a tray, and walked across the eatery to dispose of it, thankful for the moment’s respite from his presence.

Christian returned seconds later, brushing off his hands as he asked, “Where to next, Lizzie?” Lizzie clambered down from her chair, bouncing. “Can we go play in the water now?”

Five minutes later, we approached the play area.

Christian and Lizzie had run up ahead while Claire and I trailed behind in silence. Lizzie glanced back, her impatient grin urging us to catch up.

“You wanna play, Momma?” she sang out once we were in earshot.

Never once had I passed up an opportunity to play with my daughter, but in this setting, I couldn’t imagine myself romping around alongside Christian. It was just too intimate.

“Um, I think I’m just going to watch you this time, Lizzie.

You go on ahead.” Disappointment flashed across her face, and I dropped to a knee in front of her, running an affectionate hand down her arm. “I’l be sitting right there, watching you the whole time. Okay, sweetheart?” I pointed at a bench under the shade of a tree and forced myself to smile.

She glanced behind her, nodding when she turned back to me. “Okay, Momma.”

I breathed a sigh of relief when she agreed. As much as I didn’t want to let my daughter down, I was desperate for a few moments to myself to clear my head. I kissed her on the forehead before retreating to the welcomed seclusion of the empty bench.

The solitude didn’t last long.

“She’s a wonderful child,” Claire said as she sat down beside me. “You’ve done such an amazing job with her.” I cast a sidelong glance. She looked ahead, watching Christian and Lizzie frolicking in the short bursts of water shooting up from the ground. I nodded, unsure of how to respond, or if I even wanted to respond. Six hours ago, I’d thought Claire Davison to be coldhearted and void of emotion; but now, I could only see her as kind and gentle, and I stil wasn’t sure how to handle that.

Lizzie shrieked, tearing my attention from Claire. Lizzie giggled as she dodged a burst of water. “Catch me, Daddy!”

Christian chased her, his laugh loud and surprised as a stream of water struck him against the side of his face, then again on his chest, soaking his shirt.

Lizzie squealed and danced. “You got al wet, Daddy!” Christian darted for her, sweeping her from her feet and into his arms. He chuckled and teased. “And now I’m gonna get you al wet.”

Lizzie kicked her feet, howling with laughter and screaming
no, Daddy, no,
though it was clear she relished every second of it.

My depression grew just watching them. Lizzie had fal en in love with her father, the thing I’d feared most. I had no idea how she would survive once he was gone.

Claire interrupted my torment and uttered softly, “He’s a good man, Elizabeth.”

I closed my eyes against her words, angry tears breaking free and running hot down my face. I had spent the entire day holding in my pain, pretending it didn’t hurt to look at him, and I couldn’t contain it any longer. I was so scared, scared of the muddled mess of emotions swirling inside of me, scared of the part of me that wanted to believe he was a good man.

“I’m scared.” The words slipped from my mouth before I could stop them.

She emitted a sad, slow sigh, her brow bowed in sympathy. “What he did to you was terribly wrong, Elizabeth, and I don’t blame you for feeling the way you do.

But I think you should know he’s regretted every day he’s spent without you, without his daughter.” I shook my head in vehemence, my voice sharpened with bitterness and laced with agony. “If he’d real y loved with bitterness and laced with agony. “If he’d real y loved me, he would have come back.”

She grimaced and nodded, though she wasn’t agreeing. “He should have.”

“Then why didn’t he?” Desperation oozed from me.

She glanced to where Christian and Lizzie played and back at me. “That’s something you’re going to have to ask him.” She looked back at her son and granddaughter playing, shaking her head. “I’ve never understood it myself.” Her voice was low, and I was unsure whether she’d meant for me to hear the last part.

“I’m not asking you to forget what he did, Elizabeth, but I
am
asking you to give him a chance to prove himself.” She wasn’t saying that she condoned what he’d done, nor did she condemn. She simply supported the son she loved.

Consumed with uncertainty, I watched the man who had crushed me and who stil had control of my heart. I wanted to believe what Claire was tel ing me. Believe that he’d real y loved me, believe that he loved me now—most importantly that he’d never hurt me again. I just didn’t know if I ever could.

As if she had read my thoughts, Claire patted my hand, understanding thick in her words. “Sometimes forgiveness takes time.”

Heaviness settled in my chest, and I found it difficult to speak. “I don’t know if I can.”

“But you stil love him,” she said.

I sighed and turned my face away. Loving Christian was something I’d never admit aloud, something I barely acknowledged in my own head. Sure, Matthew and Natalie knew, though it remained unspoken between us.

“I see it in the way you look at him,” she pressed on in conviction.

My silence could only affirm what she already knew.

Quiet settled over us as we watched Christian and Lizzie play. So much had changed in our years of separation, so much I didn’t understand. Somehow, her heart had softened and expanded while mine had grown hard and cynical. That prominent part of me screamed at how careless I was by exposing my feelings to Christian’s mother.

But for a few peaceful moments, I chose to ignore that voice and just absorb the solace lent in her words.

“Thank-you,” I whispered. I was thanking her for so many things, for the advice I wasn’t sure how to handle, for her compassion, for her understanding, for loving my daughter, for loving Christian—maybe even for loving me.

No doubt she’d already bound herself to my heart. Most of al , I was thanking her for showing me people had the ability to change.

Claire’s hand tightened over mine, and she shook her head slowly. “No, Elizabeth, thank-you.”