McKayla's Miracle Revisited
"You don't have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable," Maureen said softly.
Although I smiled, the butterflies in my stomach were working overtime. I looked over at my little girl ... young woman, actually ... who was sitting in the passenger's seat of McKayla's BMW. The top was down and a warm breeze blew through our hair. She was so beautiful.
I was happy to have her home from her freshman year of college. I hadn't seen her as much as I'd liked; she had a job and friends and summer trips planned. Still, it was nice to have her back under my roof again, if only to bring some life to my otherwise quiet house.
We sat there for a few moments, the engine idling. Her curly hair was pulled back. We were both dressed up; during the summer at the beach that meant a sundress for my daughter, a nice blouse and skirt for me. It was a gorgeous July morning, and the ocean breeze kept the heat from being unbearable.
This was the day I had been dreading for the past two decades. I had prayed it would never come, but a part of me always knew my daughter would ask, and I resigned myself to this course.
"Sweetheart, you deserve to know," I reached over and squeezed her hand. "Come on, let's go meet your father."