Page 49 of Moonlit Kisses

–molly–

Bent over at the waist,I work to catch my breath as I walk slowly around the parking lot in front of the workshop. Tires crunch over gravel and I turn to see who’s driving into the lot this early. My heart races as I read the sign on the side of the truck:DeLuca Electrics. He parks and turns off the engine. For long moments, he remains seated inside his truck as we watch each other.

I don’t know if I’m ready for this conversation.

I was hoping the run would help me sort through my scattered thoughts. But I’m still as confused as ever. I suck in a deep breath and take a couple of steps toward the man who may well be my father. He takes that as his cue to exit his truck. We stand a few feet apart, silently studying each other. Mom always said I had my father’s eye color and dimples, but it’s weird to stand across from this man and see eyes that match my own. Something I hadn’t noticed before. Probably because I wasn’t looking. I swallow my nerves and give him a timid smile. “Martin.”

“Hey, Molly.” He tucks his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “I … uh … hope you don’t mind me coming over. Beth said I should give you more time, but I think we’ve already lost enough.”

I gesture over my shoulder with my thumb. “I can’t talk long, because I need to get ready for work, but would you like to come upstairs for a coffee?”

His shoulders drop and a legitimate smile slowly spreads. “Yeah. I’d like that.” He reaches inside his truck, pulling out a box the size of a shoebox. He locks the doors and then follows me upstairs silently. To say I feel awkward would be a gross understatement. I’m not sure where we go from here.

Unlocking the door, I gesture for Martin to follow me inside. “Please, take a seat.” I gesture toward my two-seater dining setting. “How do you like your coffee?”

He pulls out a chair and sits, placing the box he brought on the table. “Cream, no sugar. Thanks.”

Well, that’s easy to remember, since it’s how I havemycoffee. I make our drinks and then carry them to the table. I pull out a chair and sit opposite him, looking at the box positioned in the middle of the table between us as though it contains poisonous spiders. We sit in silent contemplation; me studying the box; him studying me.

“This is awkward.” I chuckle mildly, trying to break the ice.

He chuckles, too. “It is a bit.” We both take a sip of our coffee.

He lets out a long, drawn-out breath, his posture softening. “I’m sorry, Molly.”

Those three little words unlock the flood. Tears stream unbidden down my face, and I hide behind my hands as my body shudders from the onslaught. Martin’s chair scrapes across the floor and then I’m engulfed in his arms. If my body was wracked with sobs before, it’s worse now. He rubs his hand up and down my back.

“Shh, shh, shh. It’s okay. We’ll work through this. I promise it will be okay.” He kisses the top of my head, reminding me of the way Jack would soothe me when I was upset. It’s such a fatherly action. He pulls away, tucking the hair that’s fallen out of my ponytail behind both of my ears at the same time. Gray eyes to gray eyes, he gives me a tentative smile. I return it the best I can, but it’s shaky.

“I’m gonna go wash my face. Be back in a minute.” I close the bathroom door and study myself in the mirror, sucking in as much air as I can. After rinsing my face with cool water, I pat it dry, then take a couple of deep breaths, reminding myself I can do this. I’m strong, just like Mom.

I walk back to the table with my shoulders back and a new resolve to work through this. “Do you think we should do like a … paternity test or something?” I stammer. “You know, to make sure.”

He opens his mouth and closes it again. “I guess so. If that’s what you would like to do.” He reaches across, covering my hand with his. “But I don’t need it to know you’re mine, Molly. I can see it in your eyes and the timeline matches.” I can too, but I wanted to give him the option. It must be tough to suddenly meet the daughter you’ve never laid eyes on before. He grips the box and draws it close. “I brought some photos to show you. I thought it might be a good place to start.”

I nod. “You have photos of Mom in high school?” Excitement bubbles in my tummy at the prospect of seeing photos of her when she was young. For obvious reasons, she had nothing to show me from her life back here.

“Yeah. You wanna see?” He smiles and his dimples, that match mine, pop.

He opens the lid with a flourish, and I can’t wait to see what he’s got to show me. He pulls out a handful of photos and shuffles through them, then slides one across the table to me. It shows Mom, sitting on a picnic blanket beneath a giant tree. She looks tiny compared to the trunk behind her. “She’s about fifteen in that photo. I thought Nicole was the prettiest girl in school and even though my friends gave me a hard time about dating a junior, I didn’t care one bit.”

Martin spends the next fifteen minutes showing me photos of Mom when she was a teenager. She looked so carefree and happy—a regular teenage girl, spending time with her boyfriend and her friends.

The rumbling of an engine reminds me I should be getting ready for work. I look at Martin with apology. “I’m sorry. I really need to get ready for work. Max already had to rearrange his schedule yesterday because of me. I don’t want to let him down again today.”

Martin collects the photographs quickly. “Sure. I understand. I’ll get out of your hair.” He digs into his pocket and pulls out a card, sliding it across the table toward me. “Uhm, here’s my number. Maybe when you’re ready, we could … uh … meet for a coffee and a chat. I’d like to get to know you, if that’s okay with you?”

“Of course. I’ll call you and we can work out a time.”

He slides the box closer to me. “You can keep that if you want. Look through the photos at your own pace. If you have questions you want to ask me, I’m an open book. Really, I am.” He holds out his hands.

The vibe between us is weird. We’re both nervous and unsure of what to do. Should I give him a hug goodbye? I decide to go for it. He accepts the gesture and pulls me in tight, swaying from side to side.

It feels weird to hug a relative stranger this intimately.

A knock at my internal door disrupts the moment and we pull apart.

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