Page 53 of All We Want for Christmas
Flynn felt slightly sick. He was a complete stranger to his own daughter and granddaughter. She didn’t know if he was a criminal, a total bastard or a pillar of the community.
‘I do know you’re not a serial killer,’ she said with a wry smile.
Flynn laughed. ‘Well, I’m pleased you’ve established that much.’
‘I’ve got a friend in the police. I asked her to run a check on you before I came here.’
‘Christ. Isn’t that illegal?’
‘Yeah, but my friend owes me.’
‘Won’t they find out she looked me up?’
‘No. Don’t ask how,’ Molly said with a grin. ‘You don’t think I’d just turn up here with Esme without making sure you aren’t a psycho, do you? And I watched you for a while. With the people who work for you. With your friend. The woman. I could tell you were decent.’
That’s a pretty short time to make such an assumption, thought Flynn, but didn’t say anything.
Esme battered the penguin with the hammer again, gurgling with laughter. Flynn knew how Penguin felt.
Flynn sipped his water. He had that disturbing out-of-body sensation again. He’d wake up in a moment …
Esme had dropped her toys and even Penguin lay abandoned. She let out a cry that cut through Flynn. She had real tears on her cheeks and, for some reason, he felt devastated. He hadn’t held Molly at that age and now he’d never have the chance. The pain of loss was sharp; it was physical. How could he react so strongly to losing something that, a day ago, he’d never even known he was missing?
Molly dabbed at her daughter’s cheek with a tissue. ‘Poor baby. She’s tired out. I have to go home soon and feed her and get her to bed.’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘She’s – she’s beautiful.’
‘She is,’ Molly said with pride, lifting her daughter up from the blanket. Esme immediately stopped crying and was all smiles again. ‘Do you want to hold her?’
‘Um—’
‘It’s not compulsory.’
‘I do want to hold her. Of course I do. She seems happy at the moment, though. What if I start her crying again?’
Molly smiled. ‘You won’t.’
Flynn wouldn’t have bet on it.
‘Esme,’ she said, bringing the baby closer to Flynn. ‘This is your grandad. Grandad Flynn.’
Flynn’s throat was choked with emotion. He felt a tidal wave of emotion bearing down on him.
Esme reached out her hand to touch him and her fingers rested on his cheek.
‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Hello, Esme.’
She tugged his hair with surprising strength and he yelped, ‘Ouch!’
‘Now, now. Don’t pull Grandad’s hair.’
‘It’s fine. It’s OK.’
She gave the baby to him, and Flynn was amazed by how heavy she felt. Molly was stronger than she looked. Esme looked into his eyes in the frank, almost unblinking way that very small children had but that he’d always smiled at or ignored. Now, he found he could not tear his eyes away from this child.
Molly laughed. ‘That’s her owl stare.’
Esme let out a sudden and heartfelt wail.
