And that’s why I picked them.
“Mama?” a lilted voice piped from across the room. “Who’s this?”
The three of us turned almost in unison, and all eyes were on the petite little thing with long satin brown hair and bright blue eyes that matched mine freckle for freckle.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Rebecca said, opening her arms wide as Mabry ran straight into them. Rebecca ruffled her hair before combing her long fingers through some little girl tangles and sweeping it out of her sweet face.
God, was she beautiful. Mabry was the most splendid thing I’d ever laid eyes on in my entire life. I’d seen her in pictures, watching her grow up from day one. I had hundreds, maybe thousands of pictures of her and countless letters all sent via email by Rebecca. I’d insisted early on that she didn’t have to do that so often, but she told me I’d appreciate it someday. She’d assured me there would come a day when I would feel better about my decision, and I’d be forever grateful to have known she was placed in good hands and grew up happy and loved.
I struggled to breathe in Mabry’s presence and fought tooth and nail against the overwhelming sensation that flooded every ounce of me. She turned her face upward, flashing a grin at Rebecca, and while it was sweet, it also packed with it a realization that she would never, ever look at me like that.
“Mabry, this is Dakota,” Rebecca said, flashing a knowing look at Sam.
Mabry walked up to me and gave me a hug sweet like strawberry candy. “You smell nice. And you’re really pretty.”
We all laughed, as if the compliments of a little girl could dissolve the tension in the room just like that.
“You wanna see my room?” Mabry asked, her eyes sparkling against the late afternoon sun.
“Yes, baby, go show her your room,” Rebecca said. “We just finished painting it last weekend.”
Mabry took my hand and pulled me toward the stairs, squeezing it tight as she led me up to her room. A white canopy bed centered the room, surrounded by walls the color of pale sunshine. Millions of stuffed animals and baby dolls rested against a vintage quilt on her bed, and a dollhouse taller than her leaned against a wall in the corner. Watercolor paintings of rainbows and smiling, three-person families hung on the walls with pieces of Scotch tape and a chalkboard with an inspirational quote dashed across it hanging above a small white desk.
My entire childhood, I’d dreamed of having a room like hers.
Mabry pulled me from thing to thing, going into great detail about all sorts of random objects that seemed to mean a great deal to her.
This was her life, and it made me both happy and sad. All I ever wanted was for her to be loved and safe and to thrive. My biggest regret in life was that I couldn’t be the one to give her those things.
“So that’s my room,” she said a short while later, swinging her hips from side to side as she pulled on a strand of her dark hair.
“I love it, Mabry,” I smiled, taking a seat on her bed. I’d never said her name out loud like that before. It made her feel real, as if she only ever existed in my heart up until that moment. “You’re a very lucky little girl.”
She shrugged a shoulder and pursed her lips, the same way I always did when my mind flitted from one thing to another. “How do you know my parents?”
I wasn’t prepared for that question. “Your mom is my cousin.”
It seemed like the most neutral, honest answer I could come up with on the spot. I had no idea what Sam and Rebecca told her or if she even knew. As far as I was concerned, they were her parents and it was their choice one hundred percent to tell her about her past.
“It’s my birthday next month!” she said, suddenly growing excited. “You should come to my party!”
She clasped her hands together and hopped excitedly as she lunged at me, pulling me up from my spot on her bed.
“We’re going to have cake and ice cream and games and a bunch of kids from my school will be there,” she said. “Do you like cake?”
“Do tigers live in the jungle?” I teased. “Absolutely. Cake is my favorite food in the whole world.”
“So you’ll come?”
“I would love to be there,” I said, scanning my mental calendar for May 17th. The date was forever ingrained in my memory. We were fast approaching the ten-year anniversary of my last summer with Beau and the ten-year anniversary of the day I placed a living, breathing piece of my heart into the arms of Rebecca and Sam Valentine.
I couldn’t break a promise to her.
My daughter.
“We should go back downstairs,” I said, reaching out to take her soft little hand. It felt good to finally hold it.