Page 110 of Shine: Sins of the Father
I notice Fiona’s eyes glaze, and I’m just as affected by my mother’s words. I’m glad to be able to give her the grandchild she’s waited so long for.
My sister stands behind her, and Fiona extends her hand. “Hi. I’m Fiona.”
“Crissy,” she says, timidly.
“I hope we can become good friends.”
My sister just smiles.
My mother grabs Crissy’s hand and brings it to the baby. “Feel his soft skin, honey. Is there anything softer?”
My sister seems hesitant to touch Dylan, but once she does, she smiles.
“Would you like to hold him, Crissy?” Fiona asks.
At first, my sister shakes her head, and I go and give her a hug. Wrapped in my arms, she can’t take her eyes off my boy.
My mother puts him in my arms, and still holding Crissy to my side, she makes her first, tentative interaction with him.
She tickles his tummy.
Dylan giggles, then grasps her finger.
Crissy’s face lights up, and she does it again.
I look over her head to see my mother cover her mouth with her hand. We both know it’s the first time Crissy has made any effort at interacting with people, especially strangers.
Maybe my child is breaking the icy wall around her better than any of us ever could have.
My mother opens her arms, and Fiona hugs her, and they both stare at Dylan and my sister playing a silly game of tickle, one that means more than anything we could have dreamed.
After that, Crissy can barely stand to be apart from Dylan, scooting her chair next to him at dinner and playing with him afterward.
At bedtime, we head to the guest room, planning to put Dylan between us on the queen bed, but Crissy holds her hands out.
“Could I… could I rock him to sleep?”
I look at Fiona, who nods.
“Of course you can,” she replies.
We sit in the living room and watch the two of them. My sister hums one lullaby after another, her cheek pressed to Dylan’s head until he drifts off.
Fiona approaches and holds her hands out.
Crissy’s face falls, and its plain she’s sad to let him go, but she relinquishes the boy to his mother.
Fiona heads to the bedroom, and I squat next to the rocking chair. “Crissy?”
Her eyes move from them to me.
“I’m going to be moving to California. How would you like to come with Mom and help us out with the baby?”
Her eyes fill and she nods, flinging her arms around me.
I stroke her back and catch my mother leaning against the archway, her eyes glassy and her hand over her mouth.
“You want to move to California, Ma? Fiona’s got a bakery. Did I tell you that? Bet you have some stories you could tell her about when you used to work at Morelli’s grocery and worked in the bakery.”
