“Mr. Mike, are you my daddy now?”
Mike set down his mug. The kitchen got very quiet, only the stove humming. He glanced toward the hallway. Sarah stood in the doorway. She’d heard. She was looking at him. He bent down toward Sophie. The little girl looked at him with complete seriousness, that grown-up look she had in her small face.
“Do you want me to be?” he asked.
Sophie thought for a second, then nodded, serious and deliberate, like she’d already made up her mind.
“Then I am,” Mike said.
Sophie nodded again. Settled. Agreed. Then she climbed onto the stool beside him, set Daisy on the table, and picked up her mug.
Mike looked at Sarah. She was looking at both of them and smiling—really smiling, wide, the way he hadn’t seen in a long time. Then she came into the kitchen and started breakfast.
That same day Mike drove into town. He didn’t say where he was going, just got in the truck and left. He came back two hours later with a big shopping bag. Sophie was out in the yard with Rusty. Mike walked over, crouched down, and pulled from the bag a large stuffed horse, chestnut-colored, with a white blaze and a soft mane.
Sophie stared at it, took it in both hands, and hugged it tight. Then she looked at Mike.
“What’s her name?” she asked.
“You tell me.”
Sophie thought a long time, very seriously.
“Sunny,” she said at last.
“That’s a good name.”
She nodded.
“Yeah. It is.”
And off she went to introduce Sunny to Daisy.
Mike stood there watching her go. Then he remembered standing once in a toy store with Laura. They’d been picking out a rattle before the baby was born, laughing at the ridiculous stuffed animals. The memory rose up, passed through him, and didn’t hit like a blow. It just passed through quietly, the way things do when you’ve finally made peace with them.
Daniel and Judith came back at the end of March, this time with papers. Daniel held some printed document. Judith wore the same coat and the same expression. Mike met them at the gate. Not in the yard—at the gate, outside it.
“We’re doing this officially,” Daniel said. “I have a right to see my daughter.”
“You do,” Mike said. “Through the court. They’ll set visitation.”
“You don’t tell me what to do.”
“That’s true. But my lawyer already filed. You can file whatever you want.”
Daniel opened his mouth. Then shut it. Judith stepped forward.
“A woman who leaves her husband and lives with another man,” she said, “is not a fit mother. The court will take that into account.”
Mike looked at her calmly, without anger.
“I’ve got a question,” he said. “How long had it been since you saw your granddaughter before today? When’s the last time you asked about her health? Do you know how she sleeps? What she likes to eat? What scares her? Do you know the name of her favorite toy?”
