Shards of Crystal

Her eyes lit up. "A bit."

"Maybe you can join me and Mrs. Bianchi when we check out florists." The tears were coming again, and it looked like she was going to start coming towards me for another hug. "Okay, gotta go. I'll send you the details."

I walked the rest of way to the subway somehow feeling lighter in spite of the life and extra weight I was carrying within me. It wasn't until I was sitting on the train that I realized that I called her 'Mom'.

AMANDA

"Amanda, you have her phone number. She'll take your call. Why do I see you every time I turn around?"

"Because you're the key that opens the heart of our daughter. You know that. You know how she thinks and what she thinks of me. I need you and I need your help."

"You're kidding. You want me to help you ingratiate yourself with Rebecca? You want me to go to bat for you?"

"Okay, Manny, maybe we could just spend some time together. Us. You're not married, and I don't think you're seeing anyone. Maybe if we just got to know each other again you can see that helping me with Crystal would be helping her. I hate what you did, but one thing is clear, you love that girl to death. Do it for her."

He looked at her, his incredulity obvious. "Spend some time together? Are you out of your mind? Jeremy dies, so it's forgive and forget? This isn't some ridiculous romance where you go back and find your first love, the father of your daughter, and reconcile. There's no happily ever after where the two of us are anything more than our daughter's parents. Stay away from me and I'll stay away from you. Looking for a relationship with your daughter? That's on you."

REBECCA

"Ladies and gentleman, we'd like to ask the father of the bride and Rebecca to the dance floor."

The wedding planner had suggested a few songs for the father-daughter dance, and I chose Billy Joel's "Lullabye". It was a sweet, sad song about fathers and daughters and always made me a bit maudlin. Dad took my hand, and the guests parted as we made our way to the floor.

When we got to the center of the dance floor, he leaned in and spoke softly. "I didn't want you to cry."

In spite of how much we were paying for a live band, I felt an electric thrill go through me when I heard the recorded opening of a song we had danced to often when I was a child. The tears still came, but they were joyous as we danced our asses off to Van Morrison's "Brown Eyed Girl". Dad sang along to the lyrics as tears streamed down his face.

I don't know how Dad arranged it, but we were standing in front of Marco as the song ended. My father hugged me, kissed my cheek and placed my hand in Marco's before walking off the dance floor and to Sofia. She slipped into his arms as the next song started and she looked like she belonged there.

I lay my arms over my husband's shoulders and molded my pregnant body to his as we slowly danced the night away.

"Do you remember when we used to sing

Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da

Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da, la te da"

I'd like to thank the good people of the Left Foot, Right Foot Society for their assistance and support. Thanks also goes out to Stev2244 for beta-reading and to Randi for editing. Some additional writing was done post-edit, so any errors you may find are solely my responsibility.

I know a number of first responders, including some that were involved with terrorist attacks. My gratitude goes out to them and anyone else that rushes in while others are rushing out.

Looking for another story to read? I'd recommend "The Death of a Cuckold". It's a well written, poignant story about the love of a parent.

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