Page 5 of Broken SEAL'S Secret Baby
“Well enough,” I reply. “What’s for dinner?”
“Chickensinigang,“ Sherry puts in. “Manuela is teaching me how to make it. So exciting!” The girl gives a little bounce, then looks downward at the vegetables.
Sherry was one of Emily Jean’s proteges. She had not gone with her mentor to the fatal conference because it had been midterms week at the college when Em left. She now looks embarrassed at what might have been misplaced enthusiasm.
“It’s all right, Sherry,” I assure her. “The world goes on.Manuela, thank you for planning something warm and comforting.”
“Can I have a cookie?” Cece asks. “It was cold outside and the movie guy talked a long time. I’m hungry.”
“Maybe a sandwich to go with your cookie?” Manuela suggests, glancing at me to ask permission.
“That sounds like a good idea,” I say, even though nausea roils my stomach at the thought of food. “And some juice or milk to go with it.”
“Would you like a plate, Mr. Emory?” Manuela asks, going to one of the large cabinets to take down utensils.
“No, thank you. I can easily wait until dinner.”
Cece gets out her booster seat, brings it over and puts it on one of the kitchen chairs. My wife and I had both encouraged her to be independent and to do things for herself.
“Sit with me, Daddy?” she asks.
I need to go into my office and check my email. My secretary knew what was going on in my life and had been more than supportive. But there are decisions that she cannot make.
More than that, I am not the only person in my company who is feeling the worry and stress. No one knows for sure what will happen in the next few days.
But my daughter is trying to be brave for me, and she is only four years old. The least I can do is sit down beside her while she eats her sandwich and cookie.
The kitchen is very quiet while Manuela and Sherry start the soup and clean up after their preparations. The aroma of the simmering soup soon fills the kitchen. Did Manuela remember thatsinigangwas one of Em’s favorite foods?
Probably not. The middle-aged cook has been with us ever since Cece was a baby. Cece lovessinigang,too, and it had been hard to get her to eat her meals lately. She is already thin, but my wife, and the pediatrician I’d asked togive second opinion, both assured me that my steadfast little soldier is perfectly healthy.
Cece made it through one fourth of a tuna sandwich, half a cookie and a half glass of milk. “I’m full,” she says, pushing her plate away.
“Time for a nap,” I say.
“I don’t wanna take a nap,” she protests. “Mommy doesn’t make me take naps. You can call her and ask her. She’ll tell you to let me watch TV instead.”
I’m not used to being dad on duty. It was only eighteen months ago, after a transport truck had exploded under me, that I’d been put on convalescent leave and then on desk duty, before formally mustering out to enlist in the reserves. I had an office in the apartment and was frequently home, but Emily did most of the active parenting.
Then, in February, she’d been offered an opportunity to speak at a conference on contagious diseases. She left on March first and was only supposed to be gone for two weeks.
When Em first went, I had called her often for backup and support. After we had gone through this routine a couple of times, she firmly put her foot down.
“At age four, Cece needs to lie down quietly after lunch. She might not sleep, but she should relax and be still. It is good for her, and it will give her caregiver a chance to do other things. You can tell her this,Chief, and you do not need my backup to get a preschooler to take a nap.”
Should I give in? Should I be firm? I can play the recording we had made for Cece to listen to when she played the “Mommy let’s me” card. But is that fair to Cece? Her mommy isn’t coming back. We can’t go to the daycare and pick her up, or from her work, or the airport.
I’m on my own. I could be firm today or live with the consequences later.
I turn my face toward the window so I could not see the concerned looks from the household staff. There was a gaping space in my life where my wife, my best friend and most reliable business partner used to be. And here is a little girl who needs her daddy. I have to make a choice.Man up, Charlie. This isn’t going to get any easier.
“It is time for your nap,” I say, turning back to face my daughter. “But I’ll make you a deal. If you will lie down quietly and not fuss, I will read a book to you.”
“Two books, Daddy!” The little minx already knew the power she had over me. Her soft brown hair, still slightly damp from the moisture in the air outside, curls wildly all over her head. Her big blue eyes, so like her mother’s, look up at me hopefully.
“All right,” I say. “But I get to pick them. We are not going to read Alice in Wonderland. If you want a long book, we will read two chapters.”
Cece giggles at that. “Ok, Daddy.”
