Page 1 of Wicked Love

CHAPTER ONE

OUR STORY

BOWIE

I follow my daughter into the house, feeling like I’m letting her down with each step. She’s tearing through the kitchen with her new present in her hands, rushing to showcase it in her bedroom.

“Look, Dad,” she calls.

I follow her up the stairs, stopping when I reach her room. She turns to see if I’m there and when she beams up at me, I smile back and movecloser to her.

“Look, Daddy, I put it with my favorites,” Becca says.

She places the “present”—a picture frame of a woman and a young girl next to the others. This one has a woman with long blonde hair, and the young girl’s hair is like Becca’s, light brown. We can only see them from the back. They’re walking by a lake with lots of fall leaves on the ground. All the other pictures have young girls with light brown hair, but the women’s looks vary. The common thread is that all the pictures look like a loving mom with her daughter.

I sit on the oversized chair where we read books together, and she tucks her head in the crook of my arm as she shows me her framed pictures. There are pictures of us together and one of Becca with my parents, but the dozen or so frames of moms and daughters are her “collection,” and she refuses to replace the stock photos.

“Where is my mom?” she asks quietly, almost to herself.

“I don’t know, sweetheart.”

It kills me every time she asks, which is often. Once her mom, Adriane, decided to leave, she made a clean break. I don’t get check-in calls or updates on what she’s doing with her life, she just disappeared.

She taps the picture. “This looks like Poppy and me.”

I press the bridge of my nose between my fingers. Ever since Becca met Poppy Keane at our local bookstore, Twinkle Tales, a couple weeks ago, she hasn’t stopped talking about her. Poppy didn’t help matters by suggesting Becca come to Briar Hill where she works as an adaptive recreation coach. Since Becca has Down Syndrome, I’m already familiar with Briar Hill. They have an excellent reputation for all they do for kids with disabilities, but I’m hesitant to take my daughter, even knowing she’d love the activities they offer. Because of Poppy Keane.

Even though it’s fairly typical of kids with Down Syndrome to accept and be friendly with new people, it still concerns me how quickly she attached to Poppy.

The frame with a lookalike Poppy and Becca is just another case in point.

She looks up at me. “We see Poppy again?”

I’m saved by my phone buzzing. I wave it. “This is Weston. I need to answer this. Can you be ready to leave for his house in five minutes?”

“Set the timer!” She hurries to hand me the timer we keep in her room, and I set it for five minutes. I hand it back to her as I answer the phone.

“Hey,” I say to Weston, giving Becca a thumbs up. “Everything okay?”

“Will you guys be hungry? We haven’t eaten yet, so I was going to order some takeout.”

“Becca and I ate at Starlight Cafe just a little while ago, but go ahead. We can come later if you want.”

“No, come on over. We’ll just do leftovers for us then since you’ve already eaten.”

“Yeah, man, we’re good. We’ll be over there shortly.”

I hang up and Becca holds up the timer.

“It’s time,” she says. “Time to see my pretty dress again.”

It’s wedding season for my best friends, who also happen to be my teammates.

“Tell me our story…about our framily,” Becca says on the drive over.

She loves our friends with a passion and loves to hear me talk about everyone. We call them framily around our house. I’m fortunate to have friends who have welcomed us into their lives. We’re closer to them than our biological relatives.

It’s both sweet and heartbreaking that my girl craves family more than anything.

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