A Daddy's Love

Forty minute delay - Sorry.

The response was almost immediate.

I hate every minute lost, but would wait forever.

She smiled. The man was full of shit, but he had a way with words. She felt the rush of excitement once again.

Soon. I can hardly wait.

An anxious few seconds, she waited eagerly for his response, getting that hot feeling. Enough words, pictures, skyping. It was time. Obviously he agreed.

I can't believe the wait is nearly over. The things I'm going to do to you...

She heard the announcement from overhead. They were changing her gate, damn it!

Gotta go. Gate change. Text when I arrive.

She closed the phone, grabbed her bags and got up with a sigh, moving six gates down before settling in for what looked to be an hour long wait.

She put her purse on the chair next to her, hoping to hold off any business Romeos who thought an empty chair beside a single woman was an invitation. She wasn't dressed particularly sexy, she didn't want to advertise what she was up to, but she knew she looked nice. For him.

Her glance noted the envelope from her father. That was a strange comment from Michael, about her father knowing about her travel. She hadn't told anyone. She didn't dare, not even Jill, who would have given her more grief she didn't need. She pulled out the letter and found it was sealed. She tore open the end, and pulled out the sheets full of his handwriting. She could tell he'd spent time on it, half the time his chicken scratch was illegible, but not now.

Dearest Jessica,

I want to tell you about a father's love.

You know, you have to know, you're the best thing that ever happened to me and your mother. You made our lives complete, and have never been anything but a source of joy.

Not that you weren't ever a source of trouble. Heck, we knew that before you were even born. The heartburn you gave your mother nearly drove me insane. And those cravings of hers, Chinese food, three or four days a week. Week in, week out. Always the same dish, the same place. Is it any wonder white rice was about all we could get you to eat for years?

From the moment I first held you in the delivery room, you changed my life, for the better. I held you, and knew that you were my responsibility from that moment on. I brought you into this world, and it can be a tough and challenging one. I told myself at that time that I'd always be there for you. Your anchor in the tempestuous sea that is life.

You were a colicky baby. Drove me and your Mom nuts. Every night, for about four months, your cries would wake us up. You know how your mother was about getting her sleep, so I handled it. Night after night I'd hold you, pressed to my chest. After a few minutes of walking the floor you'd quiet. Unless I put you down of course. I learned quickly. I'd walk you until the crying ended, then hold you in that old rocking chair. The one in my bedroom now. Now you know why I said I'd never get rid of it.

I'd hold you and rock you. I'd sing to you. I know, you were too young to be punished like that, and I'll be damned if I'd sing for anybody else, but I'd sing for you. I'd sing, and you'd sleep. All night long I'd hold you, gazing on your precious face, memorizing every line, every hair. Your mother gave me hell a few times for napping with you in my arms. She was scared that I might drop you, in my sleep. Groundless fears, I knew better. Nothing short of Armageddon would make me drop you. Asleep or not, you were mine, and nothing would hurt you so long as I could take a breath, certainly not me.

Your mother would take over around six in the morning, and I'd crawl off to bed for a couple of hours of sleep before work. I lost a lot of sleep over you those first six months. I don't begrudge you a single minute. That time holding you is among my favorite memories. Your mother believes it was those early months that connected us. Creating an unbreakable bond.

I know we share a lot of memories, and you've heard a lot of stories, but those early years were so precious I can't help myself. You were too young to remember them, but I can play them back on demand, and do so, often.

Saturdays were wonderful. Your mother worked Saturdays the first four years of your life. Saturdays were for us. You were all mine. Once you were old enough to let me know what you wanted, in no uncertain terms I might add, we'd get our morning Slurpee at 7-11, stop in at Mom's work just so you two could see each other, and then we'd drive. You were so smart, so curious about everything. We'd take long drives and you'd pepper me with questions. When you'd run out, I'd tell you stories. I'd look at you, perched in your car seat, staring at the world around you, and reflect on how lucky a man I was.

I remember the first time you insisted that you drive. I held you in my lap, your tiny hands on the steering wheel. We'd crawl along, your hands turning the wheel, my fingers secretly at the bottom because you got so mad if you couldn't do it on your own. I only had to nudge it now and then. Your mother got so angry, but once we did it as a family, she understood. Even then you were undeniable.

I think it was third grade, when you asked me about a book, and I hadn't read it. You seemed shocked, like I had failed you, because I didn't know every book ever written. From that time forward, every book you had to read for school, I'd pull out of your book-bag the first night you brought it home. I'd take it to my study, once you and your mother were asleep and read it cover-to-cover. Just so I could answer any question you had. I'd never let you down again. At first it only took a few minutes, but by high-school it might take hours. I started reading all your books as soon as they entered the house. You got irritated, that I'd read it before you, and the next thing I knew, you'd be reading it front to back the first night you had it. Of course by the next day, I'd had my chance, and we could discuss it. Did you really think I read all those books for fun? I read them so I could share them with you. Because I loved you. Trust me on this one, that took a hell of a lot of love.

I don't want to think about how many hundreds of hours I spent listening to music that sometimes made me want to drive pencils into my eardrums. If it was a band you mentioned, or something you sang along to on the radio, I'd sit at my computer late at night, and look them up. I'd listen to their music, comparing them to the music I loved and look for the similarities. I'd introduce you to my own music, and we could talk. I had a need to understand you, and I wanted that bridge between us. I still think you owe me an apology for the Backstreet Boys / Hanson years.

As you grew older, you still turned to me, all the way through middle-school. I didn't know what I was doing, or course. I was a first time father. I was winging it, but I swear to you, I did my best. I hope you believe that.

I know at times my involvement in your activities probably irked you. Assistant coach on your volleyball team, team leader for your Destination Imagination activities, chaperon for your weekend volunteer outings. I'm sorry about that. My only excuse is I wanted to be there if you needed me.

I was living with a timer. I knew I was losing you little by little. Your friends, your schooling, your activities were drawing you away. College was looming ever closer. It was selfish on my part, but I wanted as many moments with you as possible, before you moved on.

You were the best daughter in the world. So beautiful, so smart, such a kind and loving child. You're like your mother in so many ways. I'm sorry you got so many of my physical features. If I had a dime for every person who said you looked just like me, I'd be a wealthy man. I don't see it, to be honest. You're so beautiful, and I'm anything but.

High school was difficult, I confess. It's when your mother's and my ideas of raising you conflicted most. We both know she was over-protective, and I was too lenient. She wanted to know where you were every minute of every day, what you were doing, who your friends were, what they were teaching you in school. She hated for you to spend the night away. She was scared to death at the idea of you driving. A single drop of rain was cause for panic if you were on the road.

I took the opposite tact, and I know it drove her crazy. I trusted you. I believed we did right raising you, and I expected you to make the right decisions. I told you that you could do anything you put your mind to, and I believed it with every fabric of my being. My daughter could do anything!

You flourished, but not without some hiccups on the way. Some painful ones admittedly. Bad choices with friends a few times. I won't remind you of the two times I stood beside you in municipal court. I was appalled and the second time very angry. But I stood beside you. You learned from your mistakes, and I was proud.

The friends were a different problem. I know you hated me there for a while, your freshman year. It broke my heart, but I did it for you. Taking you out of public school, away from your issues and putting you into private school was hard, in many ways. Fourteen grand a year was a lot of money for us, but your future was infinitely more valuable. I accepted your condemnation, and the rift it caused between us, in order to get your life back on track. I drove you the twelve miles to school and back, and though you barely spoke to me for two months, I still treasure those moments spent alone with you. Driving in the car together, like those first four years.

I know it seems like my words are wandering, but there is a point. I did my best. I spared no expense. I tried like hell to give you a great start in life. Because I loved you. I loved every single moment we shared. The memories of you and your mother are the most valuable things I'll ever have.

For everything I did, I saw a pay off. You got into your first choice college. You graduated with your Master's degree in four years. You found an incredible job, and I was astounded that by the time you were 25, you were earning more than I did for most of my life. It's what any father want for his child. For them to have a better life than he did. In your case, that was going to be a difficult task, because I had you.

Then you met Michael. I knew I'd hate him the moment I heard his name. The way you said it, the way your eyes lit up. He sure as hell didn't impress me much when we did meet. I wanted better for you.

I'm a father. Boys scare me, when it comes to you. I never told you, but there's a reason our friends next door moved away. I'm not proud of what I did, but I'd do it again. Your mother told me of your first sexual experience with Andy. You were fourteen, he was seventeen and had no business talking you into a blowjob, for him or his friend.

I confronted his father. I told him I was upset, and why. He told me he was sorry and that he'd talk to Andy. Unfortunately, the talk, I later found out, was congratulatory and he was encouraging his son to do more. I won't tell you what I did, but it is the reason they got divorced and moved away. I did something bad, but I'd do it again tomorrow to protect you. There is nothing I wouldn't do. I'd condemn my soul to hell, if it would save yours. Perhaps I have.

Back to Michael. That little bastard wanted my daughter. My perfect baby girl. I knew why. Hell, anyone who looked at you would. You were beautiful, and turned heads from your earliest years. He didn't deserve you. No way. For that matter, I wasn't sure anyone did.

I was wrong. It took me a couple of years, I'll admit, to come to that conclusion. He's a good man. He's been a great provider, husband and father. Of course that's my opinion, from the outside looking in. I don't have to live with the guy.

More to the point, he loves you and your daughter, and that girl adores the ground he walks on. He'd do anything for her. He and I are not much alike. I guess not all girls marry someone like their father. But the way he is with her, the way they are together, I see us. You and me, the way we were.

The same love. The same desire to protect.

A Daddy's love.

Jessica, I've always been proud of you. Always. You're everything a father could wish for.

Until now.

Don't do this. I don't know what your problem is, you won't talk to me anymore. With your mother gone, I know you don't have her to vent to. But there's something wrong. I know you, Jessie. I know you probably better than I know myself.

If you're reading this, I know you're about to make a big mistake. The biggest of your life. I've always told you I'd back you through anything. I can't this time.

It's about a Daddy's love. The love I had for you. The best part of my life. If you do this, it's likely you'll destroy your family. You'll tear apart that bond between your husband and your daughter.

You'll deprive him of the relationship that we had. You will steal the memories, the moments that those two should have shared. It is the cruelest thing I can imagine.

If anyone tried to get in between you and me, tried to steal those moments from me, I'd tear the fucking world apart before I would let that happen. And I won't sit by idle while you do that to him.

Again, I don't know your issues. The only thing I do know, is that to the outside world, you've been good for each other. He's not abusive, he's supportive, and he loves you two. You've done an incredible job raising my granddaughter.

You loved him once. I know you love that little girl. If your problem is serious, he deserves to know about it, and to try to work through it. That little girl deserves at least that much. I would hope you'd expend every effort to make things right, before giving up. Fight for what you have, don't surrender so damn easily.

You're an adult. I can't tell you what to do. All I can do is hope I've raised you right, so you'll make good decisions. That, and be here for you when you need me.

If you go ahead with this, if you break that child's heart, if you steal the chance for Michael to have the bond that I had, the memories that keep me going, I will not support you. Unless you do this the right way, and make every effort to fix whatever your problem is, you will break more than one bond. It kills me to say it, but I will no longer consider myself your father.

My daughter would not be sitting in an airport, about to betray her husband, her daughter, her family, and everything she was raised to believe.

Not my daughter. I won't believe it.

I'm begging you. Don't betray a Daddy's love. Don't destroy it just because you can. Don't break a father's heart into a million pieces.

I want to believe I raised you better than that. I have to, or I've failed at the only thing that ever mattered to me. You.

Sincerely, Dale.

Jessica stared at the paper, the smeared writing near the end that told her in more than words, how difficult it was for him to write that. How much she'd hurt him. The signature alone screamed his pain.

The wet splotches grew more frequent as his harsh words hit home, and her tears joined his on the thin parchment.

How he knew, she couldn't understand. She never could, but he always did. She was on the verge of doing something irreversible. Something that could very well destroy her marriage and her family.

And for what? Because she was bored? Tired of the same routine?

Someone complimented her, flattered her, flirted and she liked the attention and the excitement. Was that worth breaking her vows, and risking all that mattered to her. Was she that kind of woman?

She had told herself she deserved a little excitement. It wouldn't hurt anybody. She could get it out of her system, and nobody had to know. If they did find out, she knew Michael loved her enough to forgive her. And if he didn't, was that so bad? Their life was in a rut. She could do better.

What the hell was she thinking?

She grabbed her phone.

Change of plans. It's over. Don't contact me again

She prayed it wasn't too late. That the mistakes she'd already made weren't too severe, that she might be forgiven. She had to brush the tears out of her eyes twice before she could type in the phone number correctly.

"Michael, the trip is canceled. Can you come back and pick me up?"

"What's wrong Jess? Something's wrong isn't it? What happened? We're not even home yet. I can be there in twenty minutes."

She heard the concern, the panic in his voice. "Take your time, I'll be here. I'm not going anywhere. I'll explain it later tonight, if you don't mind. It's complicated. I just want to say I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about that. So I wasted an hour, what's that in the big scheme of things? Instead I get you for three more days. Three days that we would never have gotten back again. I'm gonna hang up, there's traffic ahead. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I know you will. I love you Michael."

"Love you too, baby."

She stared at the phone. A new text had appeared. She responded angrily.

Over. No more. Leave me alone.

She looked down at her feet, where she'd dropped the letter. She picked it up, ordering the pages. She folded it, and put it back in the envelope. She picked up the phone again. Dialed an almost forgotten number.

"Daddy? I...I did a bad thing. A horrible thing."

"No you didn't, Pumpkin."

"I did. And I don't know what to do."

"You did a bad thing, baby girl. You didn't do the horrible thing. And I'm pretty sure you know what to do about it."

His voice was echoing in her ears. She looked up and saw him. Not twenty feet away, all this time. She saw the tracks of the tears down his face. Before she could help herself she was scrambling over the row of chairs in front of her. He caught her in his arms before she could fall.

Of course he did. He'd never let her get hurt. She knew that.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed.

He held his girl, the most precious thing in the world. No longer the infant at his chest, the tiny tyke learning to drive on his lap. She wasn't the angry teenager, or the proud graduate. Not the beautiful woman standing at the altar as he gave her away, or the exhausted new mom, pale, sweaty, matted hair, the most gorgeous she'd ever been, passing him his only grandchild. No she wasn't any of those, she was all of them, and more.

"I know you're sorry, Pumpkin. But you're telling the wrong man."

"How Daddy? How do I tell him? What can I say? I've ruined everything."

He peeled her arms away, and wiped the tears from her face. He put his arms around her, and walked her back to her things. He didn't like the way that guy two seats over was looking at her purse. Nobody screwed with his family.

"My girl can do anything. You'll figure out a way. I know you will."

"Will you come with me? Michael will be here in a few minutes."

"No, Jessie. This is between you guys. There's somewhere I've got to be."

The overhead announced the boarding of her flight. He gave her a hug and a kiss. "I knew you'd do the right thing."

She called after him, as he walked away. "Where are you going?"

"I've got a plane to catch."

Nobody screwed with his family.

* * *

Jessica looked up from the dishes, checking out the window where her daughter was playing. She was playing outside a lot, giving Michael and her time to deal with their issues. He didn't get off scot-free, but she wasn't brain-dead enough to try to blame it on him. It was easily 90% her fault. She had everything she wanted, everything she'd dreamed of, all the things she'd talked about, and it wasn't enough.

She smiled to herself. Her butt still hurt. She absolutely couldn't believe he'd spanked her. She hadn't been spanked since she was five year's old, for lying. Not much angered her father more than bold-faced lying.