Chapter 7

I waited nervously on the back deck to the house. The late morning sun was well over the horizon. A warm breeze blew through my hair. Maureen was inside, doing whatever it was that teenagers do to amuse themselves. I sipped absently at a glass of iced tea. The comforting sound of the ocean calmed me as best as it could.

For the gazillionth time, I checked my watch.

A gazillion times later, I heard the sliding glass door open.

"Are you ready, Mommy?"

Not really, I thought, but that was not an acceptable response. "Whenever you are."

"Let's take Mom's car," she said softly. When we got to the garage, she surprised me by getting in on the passenger's side. As was our custom, I slipped my shoes off and drove barefoot. We pulled out of the garage and the breeze blew through our hair.

Neither of us spoke as we drove to meet Travis. I had made up my mind that whatever Maureen decided to do, I was going to support her. If she backed out, that would be okay. If she wanted her father to be a part of her life, I was going to make that happen, too. I glanced over at her a time or two and saw her hands shaking.

I had to keep mine on the steering wheel and shifter or she'd have seen the same from me.

Everything about this meeting was planned by my daughter. I wanted her to be in complete control of the circumstances. Travis offered to host us at his house. Maureen thought that would be too awkward. I told her that he could come to see us. I told her, "That way, if you don't like him, we can give him the boot."

That made her smile, but she wanted to meet him some place neutral, but private.

I drove to our family's favourite place, a little Italian restaurant not far from where we lived. It was where McKayla and I had our first date. They knew us by name and never gave us menus. We had celebrated anniversaries and birthdays and graduations there. When McKayla died, they sent more flowers and food than we ever could have needed, and refused to take a penny from me. When I tried to slip some money to one of their employees afterwards, I found out they gave it to Hospice in McKayla's name.

So when I asked if Maureen and I could reserve one of their back dining rooms for lunch, they closed the entire restaurant for a "private party". As much for myself as my daughter, I wanted Maureen's first meeting with her father to be somewhere that was familiar and safe. Plus, I knew if she didn't like her father or if he started acting like an ass, Alan would kick him out of his restaurant.

I told Travis of my intentions prior to our meeting and as we drove up, I saw his car in the parking lot. He knew we would be arriving after him.

"You don't have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable," Maureen said softly. I smiled. The truth is: I had to do it. I owed them both that much.

"Sweetheart, you deserve to know," I reached over and squeezed her hand. "Come on, let's go meet your father."

We walked through the front door. The owners greeted us with wide smiles and familiar hugs.

Maureen stood mutely by the hostess stand. Travis was sitting at a table by himself. Their eyes met. Neither moved or said a word.

"He's been here for almost an hour," Marissa whispered to me. We weren't late. She reached out and squeezed my hand supportively.

With a gentle prod, Maureen took the first tentative steps towards a man whom she knew nothing about, but had given half of her DNA. Travis stood slowly, his eyes wide. He took a couple of steps, but she crossed the room quickly.