Page 71 of Knocked Up in Alaska

Chapter Twenty

“Mia, forty minutes,” Ford called through her closed bedroom door and continued down the hall to the kitchen. Nine thirty wasn’t exactly the crack of dawn, but over the weeks she’d been with him, he’d learned she could sleep ’til noon if left to follow her internal clock. He didn’t, personally, have a problem with letting her sleep in on her summer break, but she’d gotten mad the one time he’d gone to work without her. Of course, she got mad if he didn’t wake her with enough time to “get ready,” either, so he’d learned to do the morning countdown. Forty, thirty, twenty. At twenty, she usually staggered into the bathroom like a vampire flinching from daylight. At the five-minute warning, she emerged to the kitchen, scrubbed, combed, dressed, and ready to go open The Goose with him.

It was a routine he could get used to. Had gotten used to, he admitted as he poured himself a mug of coffee. Taking it, he wandered into the living room and, after moving one of Mia’s summer reading books aside, sat on the sofa. The sofa where, two nights ago, he and Lilah had engaged in certain activities he’d sworn he wouldn’t engage in with her, and…yeah, no surprise…now that he had, he wanted to get used to that as well.

Sitting back, he glanced at the book he’d moved. Breaking Down Buddhism—The Principle of Impermanence. A little light reading for his Zenmaster-in-training. So smart. Universes smarter than he’d been at her age, or even now. He ought to embrace some of the same wisdom. A man with a daughter just for the summer needed to reacquaint himself with the realities of annica. A man in love with a woman who deserved a chance to find out who she was and what she wanted out of life before he ever suggested settling for him should get comfortable with the concept of setting things free. A man knitting his heart out for a baby that wasn’t his best understand that all things remained in flux. None of these people—these gifts—were his unconditionally, no matter how badly he might want to make them permanent parts of his life. Permanence was an illusion.

In his philosophy, it boiled down to one concept—don’t hold too tightly. The philosophy had served him well through all the ups and downs of Mia coming into, and then out of, his life, as well as his years in the Army. “Don’t hold too tightly” had continued to serve him well even here in Captivity, where he’d purposefully sunk roots, invested his money and time to build something of his own, but, until this summer, had still managed to hold himself apart to a safe degree.

Somewhere along the line, though, he’d lost his safe degree of separation. Lost it over the three most important and impermanent people in his life. Now, the only thing left to do was remember his personal philosophy when it came time to face that impermanence. Don’t try to combat the transience of things by imposing selfish needs. Don’t foster guilt or sorrow.

Don’t hold too tightly.

A buzzing sounded from somewhere near his left hip. He shifted, dug down between the sofa cushion and the armrest, and retrieved Mia’s phone. It buzzed again in his hand. The number flashing across the screen wasn’t Jen’s, but he recognized the area code and hurried to her door.

“Mia, phone.”

It only took a second for her to open it, shoot him some bleary-eyed appreciation, and take the phone from his hand. She glanced at the number, tapped the screen, and put it to her ear. In a wide-awake voice, she chirped, “Hi, Daddy…er…” Those wide-awake eyes bounced to him. “Jack.”

Hmm. Two hearts demolished with one greeting, though his in a good way. And while it probably made him an asshole, he hoped Jack’s heart bled a bit over Mia giving his “Daddy” status second thoughts. As far as Ford was concerned, the man had earned those second thoughts with his careless “not my real daughter” comment—even if it hadn’t been meant for her ears—and his once-every-couple-weeks calls to Mia. True, Mia had requested time and space from both her parents, but Jen called every week, sometimes more, and texted frequently. Jack seemed to embrace the time-and-space request a little too wholeheartedly.

Ford flashed fingers for thirty minutes. Mia nodded and turned back to her room. He went down the hall to give her…ha…time and space and finish his coffee. Once he got the rest of that crucial first hit of caffeine into his system, he completed his own morning routine. At the ten-minute mark, he stopped loading kegs from his garage to the bed of his truck and went inside to give Mia the next warning.

The house was quiet. He walked through the empty front rooms and proceeded into the hall. The bathroom door hung open, lights out, as did the door to her darkened bedroom.

“Mia?” He stepped to her door and found her lying on her bed, dressed—hooray—staring at the ceiling and…oh shit. Sobbing quietly while a steady stream of tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

“Mia,” he repeated and, stomach clenched, sat carefully on the bed beside her. “What’s wrong?”

She wiped at the tears with the heels of her hands. “N-nothing. Everything’s great.” A watery sniff punctuated that statement. “My parents are moving ahead with the divorce. Their ninety-day ‘think about it’ period is almost up, and they haven’t changed their minds.”

And some things shouldn’t be transitory, no matter what Buddha said. “I’m sorry. I know it sucks, but if they can’t be happy together anymore, moving forward with the divorce is probably the best option.” He ran his hand over her forehead. “They’re divorcing each other. Not you.”

She closed her eyes and acknowledged that with a nod. “Jack said the same, but…” She trailed off and sniffled again.

“But?”

“He and Amanda are moving to a new house, closer to the college.”

“He’ll still come see you.” Hopefully. “Closer to the college is still an easy drive to your house. And you’ll go see him, if you want.”

Now she shook her head. “No. You don’t understand. Apparently, as part of the divorce, he and Mom agree to sell the house. I don’t have a home anymore. I have choices. Lucky me.” Despite the dry sarcasm, her tears started streaming again. “I’m welcome to live with him and Amanda in Mt. Fucking Lebanon—never been there, don’t know anybody, including Amanda, or…” She put her hands over her face, took a deep breath, and scrubbed her palms over her wet cheeks. “I can live in Orlando, with Mom and Barry, who I’ve at least met a few times. He looks like John Cena and seems nice enough…for a cheating motherfucker.”

Aw, baby. He mustered up a marginally disapproving, “Hey, now,” even as he smoothed her hair.

“Okay, for a guy who hooks up with a married woman.” She threw an arm over her eyes. “I-I know I’m acting dumb and selfish, but all I can think about right now is that I don’t get to go back to my home, or my school, or my friends.”

“I’m sorry. I am. I wish I could change that for you, but I can’t.” Then, before he could follow his own silent directive to run things past Jen, he blurted, “But I can give you one more choice to consider.”

She lowered her arm. Blinked at him. “You can?”

He nodded, resolved. If Jen or Jack didn’t like it, they could fucking come and get her, but they’d have to go through him to do it. “You have the choice of staying in Captivity, with me.” Don’t hold too tightly. “For as long as you want.”

She simply stared at him for a long moment. “Do you mean it?”

“Yes.”

“What if my parents don’t agree?”

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