“I do. Now, for the misdeed of speaking ferociously to me without proof that I had done something underhanded, I want you to write, Daddy only wants the best for me twenty times.”
Immediately, she bent to her task. He knew she needed to have something to focus on as she absorbed those words. She numbered them as she wrote, charming him with her efficiency.
“Done,” she reported, putting her pen down with a click.
“Read them to me.”
“All twenty of them?”
“Yes.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she followed his directions. One tear ran down her cheek as she finished. Pedro pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and leaned forward to wipe it away.
“That’s true, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Little one.”
Without giving her time to think about that in more depth, he continued, “For jumping to conclusions before checking with me, write that line twenty more times.”
“The same line?” she asked, looking at him in surprise.
“Does it apply?” he probed.
“Yes.”
Taking a fresh sheet of paper, she copied the line again and again. He noticed that her precise lettering was becoming sloppier as her hand tired. She wrote without pausing as the words became integrated in her mind. A few more tears appeared on her cheeks and dropped to the paper below.
As she finished the last line, he instructed, “For thinking the worst of me, I’ll cut this in half for ten sentences. In time, you will know for sure that I would climb mountains and fight rabid tigers for you, Little girl.”
Sobs escaped from her lips as she scribbled those lines on the next sheet of paper.
“And finally, for being afraid that your Daddy would run away after one crappy life event happened, I’m going to hold you so close until you understand this Daddy is committed to you.”
“What?” She looked up at him in surprise as he stood to tug the pen from her hand and drop it to the table before scooping her from the hard wooden chair. Taking her place, Pedro sat down to cuddle her in his lap. Taking her hand, he massaged her fingers until she relaxed against him.
“Good girl. Are you going to forget what you wrote tonight?” Pedro asked as he wiped her tears away.
“Never,” she promised. “Do you forgive me?”
“Of course. But that punishment wasn’t for me. It was to give you something to remember to say to yourself if questions pop up in your mind.”
“Daddy only wants the best for me?” she repeated as if it were etched in her mind.
“Exactly.”
Squeezing her tight, he rocked her gently. Tinkerbell climbed onto Belinda’s lap and flopped down for pets. The trio sat together for several minutes as Belinda stroked the soft fur.
“Are you hungry?” Pedro asked, breaking the silence with such a normal question. It underlined his assertion that all the negatives were gone.
Belinda smiled at him tentatively. “I’m starving.”
“Me, too. Let’s see what’s in your fridge. Tinkerbell, off,” he commanded. The delightful purring machine hopped off her lap and stretched before moving out to the balcony.
“Come sit on a stool and talk to me.” Pedro directed, picking up the pages she’d written on as they moved to the breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from the dining area. He helped her settle on a stool before attaching the pages in his hand to the refrigerator door with the magnets that decorated it.
He made himself at home, opening it and poking around at the contents inside. “I’ll make us make-believe chicken quesadillas.”
“I have that in my refrigerator?” she asked him in surprise.