“Okay,” I said, laying the book in my lap. “Your thoughts on the Bible so far.”
He laughed and nodded. “It makes you think. It makes you want to know more about everything.”
“But?” I asked, knowing there was a ‘but’ coming.
“But…I don’t understand at least ninety-six percent of it.” He chuckled, placing the book down.
“What do you want to be, Tristan?”
He turned to me and narrowed his eyes, uncertain what I meant. “What?”
“What do you want to be?” I asked again. “We never really talk about what we want, and I’m just curious.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose and shrugged, unable to answer. “I don’t know. I mean, in the past I was a father. A husband. But now…I have no clue.”
My lips released a quiet sigh, and I frowned. “I wish you could see in yourself what I see when I look at you.”
“What do you see?”
“A fighter. Strength. Courage. Someone who loves deep and loves hard. Someone who doesn’t run when things get messy. When I look at you, I see endless possibilities. You’re smart, Tristan. And talented.” He cringed. I shook my head. “You are. And you can do anything. Anything you set your mind to, you can do. Your wood work is amazing; you could do something with that.”
“I was,” he said. “My dad and I were starting our business up, and the day of the accident, he and I were flying to New York to meet with a few people interested in being our business partners.”
“And nothing came of it?”
He shook his head. “We didn’t even make it to New York. We had a layover in Detroit, and when we touched down and turned on our cell phones, we had a ton of messages about Jamie and Charlie.”
“That’s so—”
“It was the worst day of my life.”
Before I could reply, I heard the sound of footsteps running down the hallway.
“Mama! Mama! Look!” Emma said, holding her camera in one hand and two white feathers in her other hand.
“You’re supposed to be sleeping, missy.”
She groaned. “I know, Mama, but look! Two white feathers!”
“Oh, it looks like Daddy is giving you a few kisses,” I said.
She shook her head. “No, Mama. These aren’t from Daddy.” Emma walked over to Tristan and handed him the feathers. “They are from Tristan’s family.”
“For me?” he asked, his voice shaky.
She nodded and whispered, “It means they love you.” Emma held her camera up. “Now, take a picture. Mama, get in the picture with him!” she ordered. We did as she said. When the Polaroid picture printed, she handed it to Tristan, and he thanked her over and over again.
“Okay, time for bed. How about I read you a story so you can sleep?” I asked.
“Can Tristan read it to me?” she asked, yawning.
I looked over at him with questioning eyes. He nodded, standing from the ground. “Of course I can. What should we read?” he asked her, lifting my tired girl into his arms.
“I like The Cat in The Hat,” Emma replied. “But you have to read it like a zombie.”
His smile stretched as the two of them walked down the hallway and he said, “That’s one of my favorite ways to read it.”
Outside of Emma’s bedroom, I sat on the floor with my back against the wall, listening to Tristan read to her, listening to her giggle at his terrible zombie voice. She sounded so happy, which in an instant made my life light up with joy. As a parent there was nothing better than knowing that your child was smiling. I couldn’t thank Tristan enough for bringing those smiles to Emma’s face.