Sun-Kissed Secret Baby by Leigh Jenkins
Chapter 16
“Hey, Uncle Charlie.”
“Hey, asshole.”
The two friends shared a fist-bump and then stood side by side on the beach, looking at the campers milling around the bay. It was Saturday morning, and even after 24 hours, Sam was having a hard time wiping the grin off his face. His day with Daria was something he couldn’t even begin to process, much less describe. It had been wonderful. She was wonderful. His only regret now was that his dad hadn’t lived long enough to meet her.
“So you’ve met your princess,” Charlie said.
Sam glanced at him. Charlie had an uncanny way of knowing exactly what was going through his mind. “Sure did.”
“And…?”
“And… she’s amazing.”
Charlie scoffed. “I’m training the girl. I know that. I mean, how do you feel?”
How did he feel? He wished he’d paid more attention in English class, so he would have at his disposal a list of applicable adjectives. But for now he was coming up empty. “How am I going to do this? I’m a dad. All of a sudden, without any warning… what if I mess up?”
“You will.”
He gave Charlie a dirty look. “Thanks.”
“But we all do. Everyone screws up sometimes. Even dads. But she’ll forgive you. She’s a great kid. Doesn’t mean—” Charlie stopped mid-sentence, looking out at the shoreline, and then his voice cracked across the beach like a bullwhip. “Hey!”
The kids all stopped what they were doing, heads turned in trepidation towards the sound of Charlie’s voice. He pointed at a kayak, lying dismally on its side, way too close to the water. “Who left that there?” he demanded.
The ensuing dead silence appeared to suggest that the craft had been abandoned by the malignant, troublemaking duo, Mr. Nobody and Miss Not Me.
Charlie persisted. “Tide comes in and sweeps my kayak out to sea, are any of y’all daddies gonna get me a new one?”
The kids exchanged glances, each waiting on the other to offer a response. When there was no answer, Charlie answered for them. “No? Then drag that thing up above the high-water mark before I make everyone do laps!”
They scampered like rats when the cat shows up, with more willing hands than were necessary to help lift the kayak back to the rack where the others were lodged.
Nobody wanted to do laps.
“Please stop tormenting the campers, Charles,” Sam said mildly.
Charlie grinned like a shark: two rows of huge, perfect white teeth. “But Samuel, playing Bad Cop is so much fun.”
Sam snorted.
Charlie went on, returning to their conversation with absolutely no trace of irony. “All kids need is a little love, attention, and encouragement. And you’ve got that in spades. You and Daria will be fine. Besides, you had the best role model. Your dad would be proud of you.”
When Sam’s eyes clouded over at the mention of Stanley, Charlie’s demeanor changed; the levity was gone, and he was serious. “Give it a rest, my brother. Forgive yourself and let it go. You have your own family now.” They could see Daria among the swarm of kids, with Allie standing close by, chatting with Sadie. “If you ask me, those two girls are where your attention needs to be now, not in the past, where things done can’t be undone.”
Although his body rebelled, making his ribs contract and squeeze his heart with punishing brutality, Sam knew his friend was right. Whatever he’d done before, whatever he’d been before, he was a dad now, and that was what mattered most.
Down on the beach, Sue-Anne, the pretty Asian camp counsellor and Good Cop to Charlie’s Bad, was gathering her little ducklings towards her, explaining that the next holiday activity was due to begin.
Charlie was jovial again, grinning at him. “Let’s go make Easter bonnets.”
They arrived at the edge of the crowd just as Sue-Anne was explaining the rules of the competition: the campers had 90 minutes to make and decorate their own Easter bonnets out of available craft items and found items only, following which they would parade before the judges, a motley independent crew assembled from resort staff and members of the Ladies’ Coterie at the nearby protestant church. If there was anyone who knew about bonnets, it was these little old ladies.
The whistle blew, and the countdown began. Daria spotted Sam and bounded eagerly up, with Allie following close behind. “Sam! Come make a bonnet with me!”
His eyes searched Allie’s, fully conscious of her strange reticence the day before. “As long as your mom’s okay with that.”
“Of course she is!” Daria announced, taking him by the hand but glancing at her mother. “Right, Mom?”
Allie smiled, pushing her sunglasses farther up on her nose. “Of course—”
“Good. Let’s go.”
Down on the beach, though, Daria had no idea how to begin, so Sam took charge, dredging up the images of old games he’d played at her age, allowing his muscle memory to take over. He rummaged through the underbrush and dragged out a large coconut branch and began stripping it of its leaves.
Deftly, he wove a broad-brimmed hat, chatting as he did so about his childhood on Batali Beach, out on the east coast where the water was treacherous and wild. About playing cricket in the sand with hard coconut branches when you didn’t have a bat, and how an undersized dried coconut served as a ball. About digging in the surf for chip-chip, tiny shellfish that they boiled in tin cans on open fires and ate with nothing but a sprinkling of salt, as if it was the greatest feast in the world.
When the hat was finished and placed upon Daria’s head, they began to search for decorations: fresh and dried flowers, pieces of sea glass, worn frosty and smooth by the waves, and broken bits of coral and shells.
He was happy when Allie joined in, poking through the brush at the edge of the beach, looking for treasure. The morning’s activity had wiped much of the tension from her face; and once again she was relaxed… looking happy, maybe. He hoped so.
He thought about what Charlie had said: You have your own family now. And that family, he understood, wasn’t just limited to Daria… because Daria had a mom who loved her, who’d gone through some tough times with her. And who deserved his care and protection as much as his daughter did.
He knew what he wanted to do: Stand up, be a man, be there for them both. He simply didn’t know how.
She caught him looking and a surprised smile crossed her face, almost as if she was unaware of it until it had taken over. She straightened up and went to Daria, tucking in a couple of mustard-yellow flowers amongst the mishmash of decorations. He knew them to be ram goat roses, so named because they smelled awful, but they were bright and pretty.
“You look great,” Allie marveled. “Doesn’t she, Sam?”
As the whistle for ‘time-up’ blew, Daria turned towards him expectantly, beaming. Spinning in a slow circle. “Wonderful,” he agreed.
The Easter bonnet parade began as the kids sashayed up and down the beach before judges and clap-happy onlookers, and Sam stood next to Allie, not as the host of the event as he usually did, but as a parent. He made an effort to commit it all to memory, every sound and sight, so he could take it home with him in his heart.
Daria placed second in her category and came back to them looking so chagrined that he had to stifle a chuckle. “I didn’t win!” she grumbled.
“You placed second,” Allie reminded her.
She pouted. “So?”
He patted the top of the hat lightly, noting that some of the hastily stuck-on decorations were already coming askew. “So, I know you swim competitively, and I’m proud of you. I know you like to win, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But sometimes,” he glanced over her head to Allie, sharing a look with her before returning his gaze to Daria’s, “sometimes it’s not all about winning; it’s also about the game. How you play it, and how you show up. Understand?”
“Yes, Sam.”