Page 44 of Salvation
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The air is charged with tension. No one moves. I don’t even try to breathe. It would be pointless. The air left my lungs the moment I laid eyes on my daughter for the first time. Every muscle in my body is frozen. I curl my hands into fists, digging my nails into the cut on my palm.
My daughter cocks her head, studying me, and I wonder what she sees—if she knows who I am and if I fall as short in her mind as I do in mine.
She turns to Ivy, tilting her head toward me. “Is this him?”
Ivy nods, and I still don’t breathe.
Willow turns back to me, sizing me up. “Cool.”
I might not have been there the day my daughter was born, but I’ll never forget the first time hearing her voice. It’s like a breath of air into lungs that have been starved for oxygen for years.
The pictures in the Bryants’ home didn’t do her justice. She’s beautiful. At first glance, she looks just like Ivy. Blonde curls. Honey Eyes. Button nose. But when I look a little closer, I catch glimpses of me there, too. A dimple when she talks. The curl of her nose as she takes me in. And something in her eyes. Something that makes my stomach drop. Something dark and void of life.
I don’t know when I started moving, but suddenly I’m standing in front of her, struggling to find the right words to say, and when I don’t say anything, she quirks a brow.
“Are you okay? Because I don’t know CPR, and it’d be unfortunate if you died.”
A strangled noise slips from my throat, and I look toward Ivy, who is staring at our daughter, looking just as panicked as I feel.
“Ivy,” I say, calling her attention to me. My voice doesn’t sound like mine. It’s raspy and weak, a stranger’s voice coming from inside my body. “Can I please speak to you for a minute?” My eyes dart to Willow. “Alone?”
Willow lifts one brow. “What? Are you ready to ditch me again already?”
My mouth dries up, and I forget how to use my tongue to talk. I can hear the sarcasm in her voice, and yet underneath it, there’s a hint of truth. A bitter hurt that she can’t completely hide. Luckily, Ivy steps in while I’m still floundering.
“That’s not what happened, Willow.”
Willow shrugs and picks at her fingers. “Whatever. I’ll wait in the kitchen.”
She spins on her heel, disappearing the way she came, and Ivy’s eyes snap to me, ire burning in the depths of the honey.
“What was that, Campbell? You froze. That’s our daughter, and you froze.”
My hand flies to my hair, and I pull hard at the roots.
“I don’t know, Ivy. I was caught off guard. Where did she come from? How did she get here? Do her parents know?”
Dang it, I just need to breathe. One good breath, and I’d be okay. I’d be able to function. But the air doesn’t come, and I’m still panicking.
“We are her parents, Campbell,” Ivy snaps, and I snap back.
“I know that. Dang it, sunshine, I know that. I just—I wasn’t prepared to walk in and find her. Okay?” I start pacing, never taking my eyes off her, but I can’t stand still. Anxiety claws up my chest, and if I stay in one place any longer, it will eat me alive. The cut on my hand burns as I dig my nails into it, needing the pain to remind me this is all real.
Some of the anger in Ivy’s eyes melts away, and her shoulders drop. She takes one step and then another until she’s standing in my path. I pull up short, not wanting to run her over, and pick a spot above her head on the wall to stare at.
My skin is itching, and I want to scratch at it until it bleeds, until everything I’m feeling pours out of me, and maybe then I wouldn’t feel so lost. Maybe then I would have the right words to say to my daughter. Maybe then the mother of my child—the girl who was always supposed to be mine—wouldn’t be staring back at me with pity shadowing her irises. Maybe then I would be okay.
“Campbell, look at me,” Ivy demands, but I shake my head, denying her because I can’t.
I’m so close to the edge of breaking, and her voice is soft enough that it tears me apart, ripping through flesh and bone. I hate it. Hate her in this moment. Hate that she’s seeing me like this. Weak instead of strong. Nothing like the man I promised her I would be once upon a time. Not a man at all.
“Campbell,” she repeats my name as her hand comes to rest on my cheek. I screw my eyes shut, unable to take the tenderness in her comfort. “Open your eyes.”
I denied her once, but I can’t do it a second time. My eyes fly open, clashing with hers, and I wonder if anyone else felt the world shake with that collision.
“Good,” Ivy says softly, her thumb stroking over my beard. It’s longer than it’s ever been. I haven’t had the energy to shave. “Now tell me something you see.”
