I think about Ainsley downstairs. The idea that some jock with a cocky attitude will one day be chasing after my daughter makes me shiver. Dear Lord, I hope that he doesn’t make her cry. Her daddy might do worse than Jack.
Right after Ainsley was born, Colin said that she was Jack’s best revenge. Colin will one day know what it’s like for his daughter to date someone who he doesn’t believe is good enough for her. And let’s face facts… nobody is good enough for Ainsley McKinney. No one.
The sound of my husband’s breathtaking voice singing to his angel tickles my ears, shaking me from my thoughts. A part of my heart is shattered by the loss of my dad, but I will always be thankful that he was able to attend my medical school graduation, walk me down the makeshift sort-of aisle when I married Colin, and meet his beautiful granddaughter. All three milestones my five sisters will not get to share with him.
I very quietly whisper, “I love you, Daddy. Faults and all.”
****
“Colin, you’ve got to go back to Dallas,” I plead with him the next day while he’s changing Ainsley’s diaper, and I’m applying my moisturizer.
“Coach approved a leave of absence. We’re fine. Calm down,” he says as he bends down and blows raspberries on her tummy, making her shriek with happiness.
“All I’m doing today is making the funeral arrangements. Brad’s going to help me make phone calls. Amy said that she can watch Ainsley.” I wipe my hands on one of my old white hand towels, and turn to Colin. “Trust me. Everyone is so grateful that I’m taking over this job. They’ll bend over backwards to help me. I want you here for the funeral. I don’t need you today.”
“Is Mommy the most stubborn woman we know?” he says in his high-pitched Daddy is being a patronizing ass voice as he continues to tickle Ainsley’s tummy. “Yes, she is. Yes, she is.”
This takes my frustration level, on a day that’s already one of the hardest of my life, to atomic levels. All sass and spunk have left my body, and I begin to cry. I stand in the middle of my bathroom, with just a towel wrapped around me and sob pathetically, not knowing what else to do.
“Please go,” I plead. “Save days away from the team for when I really need you. Please,” I beg. “Today’s not one of those days.”
He places Ainsley on her tummy on the carpeted floor, and sets a red lion in front of her just out of her reach. “Let’s do some tummy time, sweet girl. Try to get the lion,” he says while giving it a shake.
Then he walks to me, and pulls me against his chest. My cheek lies against the thumping of his heart, and the sound is like a drug for my soul. It’s my lullaby, calming my frayed emotions. He strokes my hair. “You sure you don’t need me to stay, beautiful girl?” He pulls away from me and tilts my head up so he can see my eyes. “You could’ve fooled me.”
He’s right. If he were an engineer, or had any other normal job, I’d have him take a week off of work and help me though this, but he doesn’t have a normal job. He’s the Super Bowl-winning MVP quarterback for a team that is fighting for every win this season. He can’t just take a week of paid vacation during the season. The only acceptable reason to miss a game is injury, and we certainly don’t need any more of those.
“I need you every damn day, Colin, but so does the team. Hop a plane to Dallas. Go to practice. I’ll text you as soon as I have the funeral details worked out. There’s nothing that is missing-practice worthy today. I promise.”
He pulls me to him again and strokes my hair. “I’m a phone call away. I’ll give one of the assistants my phone. Call me.”
I nod, feeling relief in my heart that he’s leaving.
“Do you want me to ask Jenny to come down?”
I think about it for a moment. “Yeah. Why don’t you have her come for the funeral? She can watch Ainsley.”
The rest of the day is a whirlwind. Fortunately, Dad and Carmen had already purchased their burial plots—how morbid, but helpful to us children. The funeral service will be held in a Methodist Church; it’s near their home, and they’re members of it but never attended. Brad rented out my dad’s favorite restaurant for the after-funeral luncheon. I can’t bring myself to call it a reception.
I went to my old medical practice and personally told the staff of my dad’s passing. Most of them had already heard. Apparently, my father’s death made the Sunday evening news here in Houston. I had them reschedule appointments, and make all the necessary phone calls to close the practice until next Monday. Brad personally called all of the high-profile athletes Dad worked with, and invited them to the funeral on Wednesday.