“It’s always ever going to be me and you, Sis.” I said, repeating what I’d said to her when we were kids. Every time we were scared or out of food, when the electricity was shut off in our shack of a home or our dad passed out on the couch when we needed to be taken to school, I’d say those words to her.
“Forever and ever,” she replied, the same way she always had.
I grinned. My marrying Wes and her marrying Matt didn’t change our relationship. Nothing would. Not only was it blood-deep, but it had been born of years of strife, having only the other’s back, and loving each other when no one else cared. Sure, we knew Pops loved us, but he didn’t love us enough to pull himself out of the bottle long enough to show us much of what a healthy life looked like. We had to find that on our own, and now…we knew.
We made it to the door that was propped open. The sound of a TV newscaster could be heard in the distance. Maddy and I walked in together. Our father was sitting up in bed, not lying down. His salt-and-pepper hair was slick and combed back as if he’d recently showered, though it was more likely a sponge bath. His chin was covered in a full beard complete with gray hairs running through the darker strands. His brown eyes locked on the two of us, and as we stood there while tears streaked down his face.
“My b-babies.” Stiffly he opened his hands, likely not being able to use the muscles in his arms at this time. “Give your old man some love,” he said, his voice a brittle rasp from lack of use.
“Daddy!” Maddy cried and ran over to one side of his bed.
“Pops,” I said solemnly, stuck watching him hug my sister. I’d wanted him to wake up every day for the past eleven months, and finally, by the grace of God, he was here. Alive. Awake.
“Mia, c-come h-ere.” He croaked and moved his fingers slightly by his side as if gesturing for me to sit next to him. Maddy was already lying on the bed, cuddled up to her daddy. Only he wasn’t her real father. A pang hit me like a punch to the gut. Now was not the time to open those wounds.
I walked over to my father, sat down, and raised my hand to his head. I traced his face from his forehead, down his temple and the side of his cheek, to his prickly beard. His skin had a healthy pink glow that he’d not had in more years than I could remember, and I realized this was my father, stone-cold sober. And he was magnificent. “You look good, Pops.”
One of his hands shook as he raised it up, cupped the back of my neck, and let it rest heavily against my shoulder so I was supporting it. Right there, I leaned against his chest and let it all go. The months of worry, the fear that he wouldn’t make it, the belief that I might not see the only parent I had left. All of it. The tears came fast and furious to the three of us. We held one another and cried. Maddy and I both turned to our dad, heads resting on his chest. I grabbed Maddy’s hand and placed it over our dad’s heart.
“God, l love you g-girls. M-M-ore than a-anything. Gonna s-show you. Be a g-good d-dad. I-I swear.” His voice broke several times, and his tears leaked onto us, but we didn’t care.
He’d never promised to be better for us before. In the past, he’d wake from a bender, apologize, say he couldn’t help himself, and that would be that. One time, he admitted that he drank to chase the sadness away, and he gambled to replace the anger at our mother.
I closed my eyes and prayed to God that he meant what he said this time, because this was the last chance he’d ever have to make it up to us.
We lay there on our father’s chest for a long time until the three of us were cried out. Nothing but sniffs and long sighs remained of our mental and emotional reunion.
“Uh, h-hello?” Pops said, breaking the silence that had come over our little three-person huddle.
I turned my head and saw Wes standing at the door. A huge smile spread over my face. Seeing him was like seeing an open sky full of stars on a pristine night on our Malibu beach.
Pops grumbled, “Yours, Mia.”
I grinned. “Oh, yeah, he so belongs to me.” I jumped out of bed, wiped my face with my hands, and wrapped my arms around my man.
Wes kissed the smile on my face, teeth and all. “Love seeing you smile like that, sweetheart.” He cupped my cheek and wiped away any remaining tears with his thumbs.
“Come over here. I want you to meet my dad,” I said with a giddiness I felt all the way down to my toes.
Holding Wes’s hand, I brought him to my father’s bedside. “Weston Channing, meet my father, Michael Saunders. Pops, this is my fiancé, Wes,” I said with a heaping dose of pride.
Pops eyes narrowed. “Fiancé?”
Just as I was about to respond, Matt entered the room. Maddy hopped up and ran to her man. He caught her and spun her around once. She laid a huge yet still innocent kiss on him. “Honey! My daddy is awake!” She bounced on her toes, and he hugged her close.
“Honey?” Pops coughed. “My g-girl has a b-boyfriend? L-Lord.”