Page 109 of Bonus Daddy
My vision blurred and my nose stung as I listened. Had I wasted my time? I’d always done what I thought was best, giving everything I could to my family and my clients and the firm. But I hadn’t been happy. I’d been treading water until the day Jess walked into my office.
“I won’t.” I closed my eyes and repeated the words to myself silently.I won’t.
“Did you tell the girl you love her?” he asked.
A smile overtook my face, despite the somberness of the moment. “I did.”
“Thank God—” His last word was cut off as he launched into another coughing fit. “I knew you had it in you. Now hold on tight and never let her go. If you do that, then you’ll be just fine.”
I thought about Jess and Vermont. That I’d go anywhere and do anything to be with her.
“I plan on it,” I said, my brain racing ahead several steps. Would she want to get married again?
I wanted to grow old with Jess. I wanted to sit beside her and look at the flowers in our yard.
“Give me a hug and then get going,” Cliff said gruffly.
I stood and bent over him, wrapping my arms around his frail form.
“I’m gonna go get my girl now,” he said, patting my cheek. “How ’bout you go get yours?”
Chapter 40
Jess
“Listen, this does not define you. Whether you’re admitted to this school has no bearing on your worth in this world.”
Kit stared blankly ahead as I brushed her hair, her posture rigid with nerves.
I’d been second-guessing my decision to allow her to audition for the past two weeks. She’d been practicing harder than ever, so focused and serious and determined. While it made me proud, it also worried me. I couldn’t help but dwell on the potential for devastation if she wasn’t accepted. I wanted her to be a kid on summer vacation, yet I loved her dedication, and I wanted her to set goals and work toward them.
This was the torment that came with parenting. Always being torn in two, wanting to wrap my child in a warm, supportive blanket and shield her from failure or disappointment, then flip-flopping and pondering whether I should let her take risks, even while knowing that the end result could be painful.
“I’ve heard it all before, Mom,” she said, her voice monotone. “Auditioning is an honor. Blah, blah, blah.”
I tugged gently on the French braid I was working on. “It’s the truth. We’re going for the experience. Most kids spend years preparing, and you got a couple of weeks. That’s my fault, not yours.You’ve worked hard and improved. This is just one day of your long, beautiful, successful life.”
Her lips wobbled, but she kept her head high. “But I just want to get in.”
“Of course you do. But someday, when you’re an adult and have a little more perspective, you will realize that it doesn’t actually matter if you get in. What matters is that you took this opportunity and worked your butt off. That you went in there with your head held high and a smile on your face.”
I kept braiding, my chest aching, knowing that my words hadn’t penetrated as deeply as I’d hoped. She was twelve, and after the changes and disappointments she’d been through, she wanted to hold on to hope.
Though the audition had consumed us for days and days, Vermont was still there, beckoning to me. The cottage was ready, and I’d met with the school principal during our trip. I hadn’t made any solid plans regarding work, but I could help out on the farm until I found a social work position.
But since the moment I’d returned from visiting my siblings, none of it had felt urgent. Because all the positives that came along with moving were now being weighed against all the possibilities here. We still had a lot to explore. Like this audition and our new friendships. And Brian.
When I’d agreed to today and had told Kit, the girls and I had talked and decided we would take a little more time before making a final decision about moving. Given that it was mid-July, the clock was ticking, yet the pressure lessened every day.
“I just want to get in,” she repeated, this time with a sigh.
I squeezed her shoulders and spun the chair around so we were eye to eye. “There are other schools, and there’s always next year. Remember what Grandpa used to tell me when I was a kid? What are the only two things we can control in this life?”
“Our attitude and effort,” she grumbled.
I dipped my chin. “Correct. We can’t control what thecommittee decides, but you can control your attitude and your effort and be proud of yourself.”
She looked up at me, her big brown eyes welling with tears. “Can we snuggle for a minute?”
