Page 20 of Foster

“Going to be my strong, brave girl when we walk out of here?”

Bowie Jane nods but I can tell she’s not quite sure what that even means. Hell, I don’t know what it means. Once we leave, I have no clue how Sandra will react. Will she be partially absent the way she was over the summer, only reaching out a handful of times a week? Will living on the other side of the world impede even more on her ability to be a mom?

It’s confusing how one man can have such an influence over a woman who I felt was a rock-solid individual and mother. Sandra was always the nurturer, the one kissing booboos and soothing tantrums. Granted, she could get really angry but those times were rare.

Like today.

But seeing Sandra in this form reminds me why we’re divorced. Two very young, foolish kids who got pregnant when she was just eighteen and I was nineteen, and I married her because I thought it was the right thing to do. As we grew, developed, matured, sadly our love did not thrive. In fact, not sure it was ever true love to begin with but rather lust turned into duty and obligation.

I know my career hurt our chances of cementing a marital bond. I was gone too much and living the youthful glory days of fame. Sandra took to the lifestyle as well, developing close friendships with hockey wives and partying with them as much as I did with my teammates.

The marriage was never good but after Bowie Jane was born, we chose to stay together for her sake. Our fights were vicious and the makeups revolved around sex and then re-commitments to do better for our daughter. It was a cycle repeated over and over again until I had an epiphany and decided to get off the crazy carousel.

I realized that by staying in a loveless marriage, which was clearly evident to anyone who stood within the walls of our home, I was actually doing a disservice to Bowie Jane. I was teaching her that it was okay to accept mediocrity and live without love. I was not setting the example for the type of relationship I want my daughter to strive for.

I’m the one who broached the subject of divorce and I was both relieved and a little hurt that Sandra readily accepted the suggestion. Maybe I held out hope that the finality of ending our marriage might prompt both of us to find a solution that neither of us had considered before.

But we didn’t and the divorce went as well as could be expected. Even though we both agreed on it, it wasn’t amicable. When there are great monies involved, the division becomes harder. I had no problem with following the law and giving her what was due, but Sandra wanted more. She wanted to be taken care of with alimony the rest of her life and didn’t want to bother to try to support herself. That didn’t work for me and things got pretty bad before we were able to compromise on a limited term of alimony. I gave her the house and half of the retirement and bank accounts, as well as paid a generous amount of child support.

At that point, we settled into a generally peaceable co-parenting existence this last year and a half but I’m guessing that might have been the calm before the Chet-storm.

And this is where we’ve ended up.

I take Bowie Jane’s hands, giving them a squeeze. “Come on. Let’s get whatever you want packed and we’re going to head to the airport, catch the first flight back to Pittsburgh.”

She nods and turns to her dresser, but then a thought occurs to her. “Who is going to watch me when you’re gone on away trips?”

I haven’t had a chance to tell her about Mazzy yet and for the first time since touching down in California, I get a light, buzzy feeling in my chest. I’m confident I couldn’t have found a more perfect fit for me and Bowie Jane and it was solidified when Mazzy came over yesterday to get a key so she could move in. We ended up talking for over two hours, not just about Bowie Jane and how things would work in the job, but about each other personally. She’s lighthearted but serious, funny but on the wittier side, and an absolute nurturer. I learned enough to know that being a nanny is more than a job—it is her calling.

It also does not hurt that she’s very easy on the eyes.

Actually, that’s not even accurate. More like she hurts the eyes because she’s so beautiful. I found it sometimes hard to concentrate because I’d get caught up looking at her riot of red curls or the clear green of her eyes or the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her face is an absolute vision and I couldn’t find a single flaw.

So yeah… the nanny is hot but that’s not why I hired her. And it’s definitely not her looks that are going to make my life more secure but rather that I trust she will take care of my daughter like she was her own blood. I know she will go above and beyond to help my kid transition during this tough time.

“I’ve hired an amazing nanny. Her name is Mary Elizabeth, but she goes by Mazzy,” I say with a smile. “You’re going to love her.”

Bowie Jane looks at me dubiously before her mouth turns downward. “I just wish things could stay the same.”

The heaviness in her tone causes my chest to ache. For a split second, I forget about my happiness that my daughter is coming to live with me and wish desperately that things could remain the same for her. That her mom would get her head on straight, abandon the idea of moving out of the country and even though I wouldn’t see her as much, continue to give Bowie Jane a stable life here.

But I brush that aside. None of that is happening and all I can do is try to make the transition easy for her—with Mazzy’s help.

CHAPTER 8

Mazzy

Foster and Bowie Jane are due here at any moment and I resist the urge to do a quick walk-through of the house. They caught a red-eye flight back to Pittsburgh and it’s almost seven a.m., so I fixed a quick breakfast casserole to have ready for them.

I’ve been in frequent contact with Foster since he landed in San Francisco yesterday morning. We didn’t talk by phone, I presume so Bowie Jane wouldn’t hear, but via text he gave me a pretty thorough update of how things went. He wanted me to know that it was a rough transfer in that his ex-wife made things very difficult on their daughter, but more importantly… Bowie Jane was immensely sad to be leaving her mom despite the circumstances.

I can’t even begin to imagine the emotions circulating through that little girl but I’m here for it and ready to help however I can.

Foster has explained to her who I am but he doesn’t have a whole lot to share. I’m going to be a stranger and I imagine coming from a fairly secure environment—until this most recent custody blowup—to being cared for by someone she doesn’t know will be a bit rocky. Add to that, Foster is leaving in two days for an away game so Bowie Jane will only have me. I’ve got a lot to accomplish to build trust in that short time.

During our last text exchange while he was on the plane, I made a suggestion. I know you’re excited to have Bowie Jane here, but I think for the next two days, it would be good if I can spend as much time with her as possible so she can get to know me before you leave for the away game on Friday.

Foster is continually proving to be such an easy-going—and smart—guy because his response was immediate. Absolutely. I can stay out of your hair.

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