Page 76 of Holly, Jolly, and Oh So Naughty

By the time we sit down for Christmas dinner, I’m mostly giddy. Lily sits next to me and Emma sits one chair down, but she babbles to me as if we are right beside one another. Lily’s father carves the chicken, and I dish out the greens and potatoes that I helped with, while Emma’s mother is in charge of the sauce, the sprouts, and all the trimmings.

It’s not the most extravagant Christmas meal I’ve ever eaten, but it immediately becomes my favorite. Sitting around a rickety wooden table that creaks every time someone moves a plate, dressed in Christmas sweaters with musical carols playing in the air… it’s heaven. We eat, laugh, and joke about the year. Emma’s mother talks about some expansion details she has for next year, while her father mentions a desire to return to his old hobby of crochet.

More things I store in my mind as I learn about these people.

Then it’s time for dessert. I serve the dish I made with a proud grin, and when serving Lily’s slice, I scatter a few extra sugar stars on her plate.

Then Emma speaks up and brings the entire table to silence.

“Daddy?”

The word still sounds strange, and I pause in serving, feeling as if Emma has just punched me right in the center of my chest.I don’t think I will ever tire of hearing that term. Everyone else goes silent, and I hover over the table, unsure what to do.

Lily’s mom stands and takes the serving spoon from me. Then she flashes me an encouraging smile and nods toward Emma.

I sit slowly and face my daughter. “Yes?”

“Can you come to the dance with me?”

My heart pounds so hard, it’s a wonder no one else at the table can hear it. I want to say yes. I want to run outside and scream in delight that my daughter, such a new addition to my life, already wants me to attend the daddy/daughter dance with her.

I look to Lily’s father who seems completely unfazed by the question, but the last thing I want to do is step on his toes when Emma has a tradition of asking him.

Lily’s hand moves to my thigh and her lips part, but before she can speak, her father talks instead.

“I think that’s a swell idea,” he says in between mouthfuls of pudding. “My hip has been playing up, so I couldn’t dance even if I wanted to.”

He’s giving me his blessing in a way that’s subtle, and yet it means so much. The static sting of emotion rises behind my eyes, and I swallow audibly, then look at Emma.

“I wouldloveto,” I say, fighting to keep my voice strong. “It would be my honor.”

“Yay!” Emma is oblivious to my emotional turmoil, but Lily sees it all and she keeps her hand on my leg for the remainder of the meal.

So much of this still doesn’t feel real.

After dinner, we all bundle up into our winter coats and head out to the town hall where the daddy/daughter dance is being held. Lily and I walk with Emma singing and jumping around between us, and she’s a ball of energy until we reach the hall. Then she becomes subdued and as we head toward the dance hall, she begins to lag behind.

Her grandparents go on ahead while Lily and I take Emma off to the side.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” Lily asks, kneeling in front of Emma. “Do you want to go home?”

Emma shakes her head.

“Do you want to change your dress?”

Again she shakes her head. Lily sighs softly, then her head tilts. “Is it because of what your classmates were saying?”

Emma nods.

“What did they say?” I ask softly, confusion swirling in my chest. “Is something wrong?”

“Just childish bullies,” Lily murmurs as she stands back up. “They’ve been teasing Emma because she’s been bringing her grandpa to these dances.”

Oh.

Kids are assholes.

I lower down to my haunches in front of Emma and hold out my hand. “You know, it doesn’t matter what they say but I can promise you, if we walk out there right now, they won’t be able to say anything because we are going to be the best dancers out of everyone.”

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