Elijah slowly pulled his truck into the brick driveway. The looming, three-story beach house with its wraparound porches and floor-to-ceiling windows always made him feel as if he didn’t measure up.
Jazmine had laughed and said it was just a house. But that’s what she didn’t get. To her, it was just an ordinary vacation house. In his world, even the idea of a vacation house was extraordinary, let alone the design and size of this one.
His family had a ranch along the coast that included waterfront property, but they were considered land-poor at best. What was the point of owning land worth millions if you struggled to pay your basic living expenses?
Parking in front of the huge garage door that looked as though it belonged on an English carriage house, he tilted his head to look up. They had spent so much time sitting on the top balcony, staring at the stars, listening to the water. Those had been the best days of his life. Back when she had drowned out his uncle’s voice.
Of course, when her parents found them one night, they had been fit to be tied. They didn’t care that the most he and Jazmine had ever done was hold hands. In their mind, he was a De La Rosa and would contaminate their daughter. He hated himself for proving them right. This morning’s devotional ran through his head again. Don’t be anxious. Stay in prayer.
Easier said than done. His skin itched. Not the kind of itch that you could scratch, but under his skin. It was the kind that reminded him that he was an alcoholic, and that the minute he forgot it he would be in big trouble.
Stepping out of the truck, he centered himself before opening the door to the backseat. He hoped he hadn’t gotten the gift wrong. A movement on the top balcony caught his attention. A mini Jazmine was looking over the railing. Her thick, dark, corkscrew curls framed her tiny golden-brown face.
All the blood left his body. When he’d seen her the first time, he hadn’t known who she was. His brain hadn’t had time to process that she was real. A little person that was part of him and Jazmine. He wanted to stare at her, take the time to make sure every detail was branded in his memory. But he needed to move, do something. He waved. “Hi, Rosemarie.” His voice cracked. Really?
He was an idiot. Great first impression, De La Rosa.
She darted away. “Momma! He’s here!”
A few seconds later, mother and daughter were looking down at him. Something he couldn’t identify pushed at his insides.
“Hey,” he called up to them. “Should I climb up the side like the old days?” There was elaborate ironwork decorating the side of the house.
“Elijah De La Rosa, don’t you dare.”
Rosemarie studied him wide-eyed, then turned to her mother. “He can climb the wall like Spider-Man?”
He grinned. “Sure. I used to do it all the time.”
“No. You stay right there. We’re coming down to let you in.”
He chuckled. Getting her riled had been one of his favorite things to do. Probably not a good idea now. By the time she opened the door, he was requesting wisdom and strength from God again.
Jazmine stepped back to let him enter the downstairs foyer. This was the plainest part of the house. It was designed to take water during heavy storms. The main living area was on the second floor and the bedrooms on the third.
With a hesitant move, Jazmine turned to the stairs.
His heart hit harder with each step, steps that brought him to his daughter. Most fathers had nine months to get used to the idea of having a child. A tiny wiggling infant was placed in their arms, and each month their baby grew into more of a little person.
Jazmine stopped on the last step. He was behind her but didn’t see his daughter. His gaze darted to Jazz. She gave him a half smile. Had his daughter already decide she didn’t want to meet him?
“She’s very shy.” She glanced toward the upper level. “Rosemarie? Come on down, sweetheart.”
The worn leather of his bracelet was warm between his thumb and finger. He had already seen her, so why was he so nervous now? They would be in the same room.
He kept his focus on the top of the stairs. If his heart beat any harder, it might break his ribs. Licking his lips, he discovered they were dry. Then that sweet face surrounded by dark curls peeked around the corner of the wall.
There were people in his life he loved, but at this moment he was hit hard by a love so wild and raw that his knees almost gave out.
“Hi, there. Rosemarie, right?” His eyes burned. No, no, no. He took a deep breath and unlocked his jaw. The last thing he wanted to do was to scare her.
She nodded, moving toward her mother one slow, agonizing step at a time. She eyed him as if he was a coiled rattlesnake. Her hand stayed on the railing. The wall behind her was covered with photos. Rosemarie’s pictures hung with the other members of the Daniels family, including the boy they had lost.
Jazmine had said she didn’t have many memories of her older brother. He had been killed when she was only three. Sweat broke out across Elijah’s body.
The family had to hate that their only surviving child had married an alcoholic. He had a lot to prove, but first he wanted to see his daughter smile. He lowered himself to a crouch, so he wouldn’t tower over her.
Finally, she made it to her mother’s side, and wrapped an arm around Jazmine’s jean-clad leg.
“Hi, Rosemarie.” He tried again, making sure to give her an easy smile. “I’m...” Your dad, father, daddy. Each word clogged his throat. None of them sounded right. “I’m so happy to meet you.”
“You’re my daddy, right?” Her tiny, bow-shaped lips twisted to the side.
He couldn’t breathe for a minute. “I am.”
“Momma calls Papa Daddy. Is that what I should call you?”
Everything below his neck locked up. He managed a nod and what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “If you want to. I like it.”
Silence slipped between them again. What topics of conversation did a father have with a five-year-old daughter he’d never met?
Jazmine ran her hands over their daughter’s head, pushing back her hair. “I think he has a gift for you.” She raised her eyebrows and looked pointedly at the bag in his right hand.
“Oh. Yeah.” He lifted the bright pink bag. “I brought this for you. My sister helped me pick it out. You can call her Tía Belle or Aunt Belle. She has a little girl about your age. You have a few cousins and a couple of aunts.” Great, now he was babbling. He tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a cat caught in a trap. “Want to know a secret?”
She nodded but didn’t step away from her mother.
“I’m a bit nervous.” He leaned closer, stopping himself from reaching out to touch her. Nodding to the bag, he offered it to her again. “I hope you like it. If you don’t, we can trade it in for something else.”
Taking the bag, she smiled at him. He didn’t know it was possible for a heart to hold a beat.
Rosemarie peered into the colorful wrapping his sister had chosen for him and gasped. He wanted to know if it was a good or bad noise.
“Momma, look! I’m naming her Zoe! She and Abby’ll be best friends.” She pulled out the dark-haired doll and hugged her. “Thank you.” Turning to her mother, she held up the doll. “Can I take her to lunch?”
“That’s a wonderful idea.” Jazmine looked at Elijah. “She set her table for us. She wanted all her friends to meet you.”
“Friends?” His gut tightened. “I thought...” Narrowing his eyes, he studied Jazmine. Her dark eyes gleamed like they used to whenever she messed with him.
“Yes!” Rosemarie interrupted his thoughts. “Mary has somewhere very important to go, so Zoe can have her spot.” The little girl nodded somberly before skipping through the kitchen to the back door. Through the large glass panels, Elijah could see the ocean.
“Come.” Jazmine followed her daughter. “She might not seem excited that you’re here, but she set the table and helped my mother make fresh lemonade. I told her how we used to drink it during the summer while we sat on the pier and watched the waves. She planned the menu.”
“You told her about us?”
“The good parts.”
Swallowing the bitterness, he inhaled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to use his calming strategies so often in one day. “Your mother helped her? Will it be safe for me to eat?”
One hand on the door, Jazmine paused. For a moment she studied his face with a fierce intensity. Was she going to kick him out?
He held his breath as he waited for the verdict. “Sorry.” He made a note to lay off the mother jokes.
“She’s a little girl. A little girl who lives in a world where everybody loves her and cares for her. Please don’t be her first heartbreak.”
The first instinct was to deny he would ever do anything to hurt her, but then he stopped. He had blown his promises to honor and protect Jazmine out of the water. He had broken her heart.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he glanced to the little girl. She was talking to a line of stuffed animals and dolls. “I’m in a different place now. I don’t know how to promise never to hurt her, but I’m going to do my best.”
Their gazes stayed locked for longer than he could count.
He must have passed her test because she nodded, then crossed the threshold. To the far right, in the shaded area on the large balcony, was a mini pink picnic table. There were purple and green chairs at each end. They were a bit higher than the yellow benches on either side, but not by much.
Starfish, seashells and driftwood decorated the center, and pretty teacups and delicate plates were set at each place. The doll he had given her was in the middle of a militant line of other dolls and animals. She came over and took his hand.
“This is your spot.” There was a pause. “Daddy.” She stood next to the plastic chair at the end of the table. One brow up, he eyed the little polka-dot piece of furniture. Serious doubts flooded his brain.
With a huge smile, Jazmine took the chair opposite. Slowly, he followed suit, easing himself down onto the fragile frame. His knees came halfway to his chest.
“So, these lovely ladies are your friends?”
“Yes.” She went on to introduce him to each one, then picked up a small pitcher with both hands. “May I pour a drink for you?”
“I would love that. Thank you.” He wanted to reach out and help her as wobbly hands tipped the pitcher, but he held back. He recognized that determined expression.
Her tongue stuck out at the corner of her mouth as she concentrated, and he felt his own mouth twitch. She looked just like his sister when she was focused on a task.
Rosemarie moved down the side of the table and poured a little in each small cup. As she served her posse, she told him how she had met each one.
No surprise that his daughter had a very vivid imagination. He had loved reading and making up stories. His sister and cousins had been participants in many of his imaginary adventures. Uncle Frank had called him a lazy dreamer.
The doll he had given her sat next to a royally dressed Abby. Apparently, she was the queen of all the other toys.
There was a bowl of chips and salsa on the table. Rosemarie offered him a small plate. “Would you like some appetizer?”
It took him a minute to figure out what she was saying. “Chips are my favorite.”
He glanced at Jazmine, and she flashed him a proud smile. It was a good look. She wasn’t his Jazz anymore. In the last six years she had grown up, became a mother.
Rosemarie finished serving everyone, then tucked her sundress under her as she sat. Just like a little lady. “For lunch we’re eating flautas. Momma told me how you taught her how to make them when you didn’t have enough money. She said you ate them all the time.”
He frowned at Jazz. She had told their daughter he hadn’t had enough money to feed them?
He smiled at Rosemarie. “I’m impressed you did your research.” Elijah was pretty sure he had never eaten with a party of stuffed toys before. Not sure how to start a conversation, he took a slow sip of lemonade.
His daughter reached over to feed a doll, then looked at him. “Abby would like to know if you still have horses. She has a pony, but we had to leave it back home. Prince is a pretty palomino.”
Before he said anything, a timer went off. Rosemarie popped up. “That’s the flautas.”
Jazmine got up from her chair.
“No, Momma. Stay here and talk with Daddy. I can get them.”
Instead of sitting as her daughter told her to, Jazmine shook her head. “Rosemarie Daniels!”
“Momma, I’m a big girl. I want to make lunch. I don’t need help.” She pouted.
“You can’t open the oven by yourself, young lady. It’s dangerous.”
With a sigh bigger than her small shoulders, Rosemarie followed her mother into the house. Elijah sat alone.
Well, not completely alone. All the little dolls glared at him. He looked down, breaking eye contact with the toys, and stared at his intertwined fingers.
Daniels. It tore at his gut that his daughter didn’t have his name. How did he fix this? His relationship with Jazmine might be beyond repair, but he had a second chance with his daughter.
His ex-wife and her parents were going to have to deal with the fact that Rosemarie had another parent who loved her too. There would be no doubt in his daughter’s mind that she was loved by her father. She wouldn’t grow up with his issues.
Now he just had to show Jazmine that he could be trusted with their daughter’s heart. She had every reason in the world to doubt him.
Lifting his head, he found the dolls staring silently at him, judging him.
“Yes, I know,” he whispered to the toys. On their wedding day he had promised to cherish and honor her. But in grand De La Rosa fashion, he had broken her.
The downstairs door opened and closed. Glancing at the clock, Jazmine frowned. It was too early for her parents to be back. Her mother had agreed to stay away for two hours. Slipping the round stone onto the cooling rack, she helped Rosemarie move the tightly rolled corn tortillas filled with refried beans onto a serving plate.
Rosemarie looked up at her and smiled. “Papa and GiGi are here! They can meet my father and eat lunch with us.” Like a good little hostess, her expression changed to panic. “Do we have enough?”
“We’re good. Take this out to your father.” Wow. Words she wasn’t using to saying. “I’ll be right there.”
What was her parents doing here? Jazmine snorted as her irritation grew.
There had been very loud complaints about her and Rosemarie meeting with Elijah alone. Her mother had wanted to be here, but Jazmine had insisted she could handle the meeting alone.
She glanced out the kitchen window to make sure Rosemarie was safe. Her heart still bounced at the thought of Elijah being with her daughter. She needed to start thinking of her as their daughter.
Rosemarie laughed. The sound was all joy, free of adult angst.
He was going to be a part of her life now. She sighed. Azalea would have to learn how to deal with it.
Elijah’s broad back was to her, so she couldn’t see his expression, but he was sitting at the kiddie table as though he did this all the time. When Rosemarie had first asked to serve lunch on her little table, Jazmine had liked the thought of making Elijah uncomfortable. To test him, see if he was ready to be a real father to a little girl.
Part of her would have been happy if he hadn’t shown up.
“Did you leave her out there alone with him?” Her mother’s voice was at its coldest setting.
“I had planned to be out there, but someone didn’t stick to the plan.” Jazmine twisted the corner of her mouth as she glared at her mother. Then she realized her father wasn’t with them.
Her heart plunged. “Is something wrong with Daddy?”
With pursed lips, her mother shook her head. She started removing her stylish blazer. “He’s good. His friend Larry is with him, and they wanted to sit by the pool and visit. Larry will help him up the stairs in just a bit. Two hours is too long for him to be out. It was the perfect time to touch base and see how it was going.”
Craning her neck to look out the window, she made a disgruntled noise. “It’s a bad idea to have him here alone with you. He’s an acholic.”
“Mother, it’s the middle of the day, and I wouldn’t have let him in if he had been drinking.” She picked up the purse her mother had placed on the counter and handed it to her. “Go. I told him it would just be the three of us for two hours. It hasn’t even been thirty minutes yet. Don’t turn me into a liar. They need a chance to get to know each other.”
“He lost that chance when he picked up a bottle.” Ignoring the elegant leather bag, Azalea walked past her toward the outside door.
Jazmine rushed to cut her mother off. “Rosemarie has a father, and we are going to learn to deal with that. Please go back to Daddy. I’ve got this.”
A scream came from the balcony. Both women lunged for the door.