The Joy We Shared

Chapter 4: The Question Returned

I was eleven when Lila asked me if I wanted a dad again.

We were sitting on the low stone wall behind the Vale house. The water below the bluff was bright with afternoon sun. She'd just come back from a weekend with her aunt, who had told her she should be grateful to have a father who could give her everything.

Lila had repeated the words in a flat voice, then kicked at the grass.

"Would you like a dad?" she asked.

I groaned. "You asked me that already."

"I know."

"I'm not a puppy."

"I know that, too."

"Then stop asking."

She picked at a loose thread on her sleeve. "My aunt thinks Dad should marry someone from our world."

"What does that mean?"

"Someone who knows the right people. Someone who won't make things awkward."

"Is my mom awkward?"

"She thinks so."

"And what do you think?"

"I think my aunt is rude."

I looked down at the harbor. "Why are we talking about dads?"

"Because you act like you want him, and then you act like you don't."

"I never said I didn't."

"You never say you do."

"That's not the same."

"No." She leaned her shoulder against mine. "I don't want to be the only one who wants it."

I didn't answer. Below us, a sailboat turned in the wind.

"I want you to be my sister," she said. "And I want your mom to be my mom. I know she's not my mother, but I want to call her that someday. I want Dad to be your dad. I want us to be a family."

The words landed harder than I expected. "You can't choose that by yourself."

"I know. Dad says grown-ups choose marriage. Kids can choose who they love."

"Did he say that?"

"Yes."

It sounded like Graham. He tended to leave the difficult choice where it belonged instead of taking it away from us.

"I want a dad," I said.

Lila turned to me.

"I want Graham," I added. "But I don't want him because you offered him like he's a gift."

"I know."

"I want him because he's there. Because he listens. Because he doesn't tell me what to feel."

She nodded.

"I want your dad," I said. "And I want you."

Lila hugged me so hard I nearly slid off the wall.

When Graham came outside, he found us tangled together, both pretending we weren't crying.

"What happened?"

"Nothing," Lila said.

"Something," I told him. "But it's okay."

He sat on the wall beside us. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I took a breath. "I want you to be my dad."

His face changed. Not much, but enough for me to see. "I'd be honored."

"You don't have to do anything different."

"I will do my best not to."

"And you can't decide I'm your daughter just because you marry Mom."

"I wouldn't."

"Good."

He waited.

"I want to try calling you Dad," I said.

He nodded once, like he was taking an oath. "All right."

"Not in front of everybody."

"All right."

"Not yet."

"Whenever you're ready."

I tested the word under my breath. "Dad."

It came out small. It still changed the air between us.

Graham's hand settled on the stone, palm up. I put mine over it.

That evening, I told Mom what Lila had said. Mom listened without interrupting.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"I want you to be with Graham."

"Because you want him as a father?"

"Because I love him. And because you love him."

She stared at me. "I didn't say that."

"You don't have to. I can see how you look at him."

She looked down at her hands. "I do love him."

"Then why aren't you together?"

"Because dating someone is a choice. Marrying him is a bigger one. Joining your life to his is bigger still."

"Does he want you?"

"Yes."

"Then what are you afraid of?"

She let out a short breath. "That we'll make a family that works for everyone except me. That I'll become the person who's useful when the books are a mess, or the person who fills a chair at dinner. That I'll lose the life I built trying to fit into his."

"You're not a chair."

"I know."

"Graham knows."

"I think he does."

"You should ask him."

She smiled, but it looked tired. "You've become very brave about other people's feelings."

"Only when they're being ridiculous."

She pulled me into her arms. "That's my girl."

I wanted to tell her that someday I would call Graham Dad in front of everybody. Instead, I rested my head against her shoulder and let her hold me.

The next week, Graham asked Mom to dinner. She accepted. Lila and I stayed at home and made pancakes, though neither of us was hungry.

When Mom came back, she didn't say yes or no.

She said, "We're going to take it slowly."

Lila looked at me. "That means maybe."

I rolled my eyes. "It means we'll see."

For once, we both knew that might be enough.