B00CQUPUKW EBOK (29 page)

“I’ll give you a one hundreds of kisses,” Alyssa told him.

“Me, too.” Courtney smiled, sweetly.  “You’re nice, Mr. Bryce.  I like you.”

“I love you, Uncle Bryce.”  Alyssa didn’t let anybody trump her.

“Well then ‘a one hundreds of kisses’ is what he gets,” Kaya said with a grin.  He was irresistible to women, no matter the age.  “Go on girls, show him how much you love him.”  Kaya giggled as the girls jumped at Bryce, knocking him into the pile of wet snow gear.  “And make him count every last one of those kisses.”

Anastasia squealed with excitement and reached out her chubby arms to the frolicking trio, wanting to join in the fun.

“No, baby.  You’ll get hurt.  How about you and Auntie Kaya go play with your toys?” 

“Count, Uncle Bryce!” 

“Kaya!” Bryce bellowed as she hopped into the kitchen.  “Get them off me.”

“Count.”

“One, two…”

Grinning from one ear to the other, Kaya closed the slider on his cries, and left him to the mercy of the girls.

  Her heart fluttered with the knowledge that Bryce would make an excellent father one day.  He would adore his children and protect them with his life.  They would have him wrapped around their little fingers, especially his daughters, she thought recalling several memories of Bryce dancing to the tune of  “You Are My Sunshine” with Alyssa on his feet, her little arms wrapped around his legs, and Anastasia clasped to his chest—the way Michael used to dance with his daughters to their favorite song.  

Her children would have the father she’d longed for all her life, Kaya thought, her love for Bryce deepening and spreading inside her.  He would never abandon them, not for any reason.

* * *

As Kaya removed handful of clothes from Michael and Lauren’s closets, she felt an overwhelming presence of their spirits in the bedroom they once shared.

Yesterday was Youth Day at church and all children, five and over, joined the adults instead of going off to Youth Church.  Chris Kipfer the youth pastor had delivered a message entitled, “Let it Go.”

She remembered how attentive Jason had been as he sat beside her, and at one point she’d seen a tear roll from the corner of his eye.  He’d quickly wiped it away, at which point Kaya had turned her head and acted as if she hadn’t seen it.

Many times he’d shut himself in this very bedroom for hours, and when he emerged, she could tell he’d been crying, even though she never heard a sound coming from within.

This morning, while Bryce waited for him downstairs, he’d called Kaya up to the second floor.  “Pastor Chris said we have to let go of the old so God can bring new things into our lives,” he’d said while they stood outside his parents’ bedroom.  “You told me I’ll always carry Mommy and Daddy in my heart.  I want to remember them in my heart, not in there,” he’d added, pointing toward the bedroom.  “Can you pack up their clothes for me?  I already took the stuff that I want to keep.”

“Are you sure, Jason?” she’d asked.  “You don’t have to rush this.  It’s not like we need the bedroom for anything else.”

“I’m sure,” he’d responded with a nod.

“Okay.  I’ll pack up their stuff and put them in storage.  When you and your sisters are older, you can decide together what to do with them.”

“Thanks, Aunt Kaya.”  He’d paused then said.  “I’m glad Mommy and Daddy asked you to come take care of us, and I'm sorry I was mean to you.”

“You were hurting.  Never apologize for that.”

He’d looked at her for long moments then suddenly put his arms about her waist.  “You’re a cool aunt.  I love you.”

Kaya’s heart had trembled inside her and tears had flowed freely from her eyes as she’d held that little boy close to her.  He’d come full circle and had accepted her.  They were good now.  Solid.  A real family.  She was so happy she could do this small favor for him.  

Kaya opened a shoebox she’d pulled from the back of Lauren’s closet and stared at a red sweater decorated with white snowflakes folded inside.  It was old and faded, and the threads around the collar were coming apart.

It was identical to one her father had sent her for Christmas when she was twelve years old.  It was the last Christmas gift she’d gotten from him.  She’d kept hers too, right next to the one picture she had of her father.

Kaya picked up the sweater and noticed the other items in the box: an old leather wallet, two worn ties, a money clip, a tarnished silver watch—all of which she was certain belonged to her father—and some pictures of him, Lauren, and Lauren’s mother.  There was nothing of monetary value, but she would have gladly traded them for the jewel tucked away in that safety deposit box in Palm Beach.

Here were the personal items that her father used, wore, day after day.  She touched each item, using her fingers to bridge the years that separated them.  
How she still missed him
.

Her fingers brushed against a white envelope lying at the bottom of the box.  Kaya picked it up.  It was addressed to her, in Lauren’s handwriting.  With her heart pounding in anticipation, Kaya plopped down on the edge of the bed and ripped it open.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

My Dear Sister, Kaya,

If you’re reading this letter it means that I’m smiling down from heaven and that you’ve agreed to care for my precious little babies.  Thank you so very much, Kaya.  We didn’t get the opportunity to meet on earth again, but I have faith that we’ll meet in heaven one day.

A tear slipped from Kaya’s eye onto the page.  She wiped it away quickly, fearing it would smudge the ink.

I guess you know by now that we’ve been living in Bryce’s house because ours burnt down to the ground.  That day, I came face to face with my own mortality, and shortly afterward, I started writing this letter to you—just in case life throws us another curve ball and this is the only way I can explain everything to you.  

We tend to go along from day to day, thinking that this is all there is to life, but God has His way of reminding us that we’re just pilgrims, passing through a foreign land on our way to eternity with Him.  We should never get too comfortable here.

Speaking of comfortable—or not—everyone must be wondering why Michael and I didn’t leave the children with Bryce.  We know he loves them and would treat them as he would treat his own.  He’s a good man—loving, gentle, and big-hearted.  We even thought about making both of you legal guardians.

But we know Bryce, and didn’t want our children to become pawns in some custody battle.  Bryce is very possessive of those he loves, and could be difficult and domineering in his desires to protect them at times.  You’ll understand as you get to know him better.  You can’t help but love him for his devotion, though.

Kaya couldn’t stop the smile that burst through her tears.

Kaya, I chose you, simply because you’re my sister.  I wanted my children to know you, the only living relative they have.  I didn’t want to do to them what our parents did to us by keeping them away from their family.

I wish we’d grown up together, loving each other as sisters, sharing secrets and talking about boys and clothes and makeup.  Every time I look at Alyssa, I imagine what you must have looked like as a little girl.  She has Daddy’s big, brown beautiful eyes, just like you.

Kaya paused to take deep gulps of air into her lungs.

Our father loved you, Kaya.  Many times I would catch him looking off into space and when I asked him what he was thinking about, he’d say, “A beautiful little princess I used to know.”  And then his eyes would get all damp with tears.

When I met you at his funeral, I knew that princess was you.

Kaya bit her lip to stop from crying out.

I may have had our father to tuck me in at nights and walk me to the bus stop in the mornings.  I may have had his hugs and kisses every day.  But you, my little sister, always had his heart.  If you remember nothing else about him, Kaya, remember this: our father loved you.  He longed for you up until the day he died.

“Oh, Daddy,” Kaya moaned, curling her fist around the locket.

I don’t know if you’re aware of the reason he stopped seeing you.  I didn’t know until after he died and my mother explained you to me.  Just in case your mother never told you, here’s the story mine told me:

Our father is from Africa, the country of Ghana.  He came to the United States as a foreign student and this is where he met my mother, who was also African.  They fell in love, married, and had me. Years later, he met your mother and fell in love with her.  It is customary for the men of his tribe to have multiple wives, so he saw nothing wrong in marrying her.  Soon after, you were born.  Daddy was afraid to tell your mom about us, not knowing how she would react, and since his work took him away from home a lot, it was easy for him to live a double life. Anyway, your mother became suspicious that he was having an affair, and it caused problems between them.  That’s when Daddy moved out of your apartment permanently.  You were about five at the time.

Your mother had him followed and when she found out about my mother and me, she threatened to have him deported or locked up if he ever came near you or her again.  I’m sorry you had to grow up without him, Kaya, but if he’d followed his heart and fought for you, he would have lost us both.  To him, giving up one daughter was better than losing two.

Kaya’s tremors were so violent, the king-size bed shook, but she forced herself to keep reading.

I would have loved to share all this with you in person, perhaps sitting on the back porch watching the children play in the yard.  But God would have it differently.  He knows best.

Kaya, please believe that I loved you.  And that I know in my heart you will love my children and raise them with the same love and care I would have.  I hope having them in your life will bring you some peace and somehow make up for all the years you were separated from Daddy and for those you and I were apart.

God bless you, Kaya, my beautiful little sister.  My children are in perfect hands.

Love,

Lauren

Kaya folded the letter in her fist, curled up like a baby on the bed, and wept for all the years she’d spent being resentful and jealous of Lauren.  
For what
?  She’d wasted countless opportunities to know her sister.  She’d give anything for one smile, one hug from Lauren now.

But it was too late.  
Way too late
.

Kaya had no idea how long she’d wept, but she pulled herself together, sat up on the mattress, and unfolded the letter.  Lauren had started a second one at the end of the first.

Well, Kaya.  There’s a slight change in plans since I wrote this letter to you.

You see, Michael is a bit wary about giving the children to you since he has never met you.  You’re my sister, and I feel comfortable with it.  However, he has known Bryce for a very long time.  He loves him like a brother and he trusts him with our children, and that’s where the second will comes in.

We decided not to void the will we had Steven draw up because I wanted you to meet the children.  I knew you’d fall in love with them and would want to be in their lives, simply because they’re family.  We hoped that by the time the more recent will was read, no matter the outcome, you wouldn’t be able to walk away from them, and that you and Bryce would work something out, thus the stipulation prohibiting you from taking them out of Granite Falls if I survived Michael.

Kaya’s jaw dropped.  She had no idea there were conditions in the second will if she’d gained custody.  Did Bryce know?  Why would he keep it from her?

Kaya, please don’t be angry with me.  Michael and I did what we thought was best for everybody.  We hope we didn’t cause too much upheaval to your and Bryce’s lives.

A chuckle escaped Kaya’s throat.  “It was one of the best decisions you ever made, my dear sister.  You brought Bryce and me together, and I thank you for that.”

Kaya gazed out at the sun rising over the lake.  A warm shiver rushed up her spine as she recalled her short-lived romantic tryst with Bryce in the kitchen earlier today.

He’d snuck up behind her and backed her into the refrigerator.  His kisses had been voracious, demanding, almost punishing as his hands had roamed over her body with a desperate intensity in his touch.  She’d gasped in sweet agony when he’d pulled her robe open and slid one large hand inside the neckline of her nightgown to cup the breast closest to his palm, while his other hand slid down her thigh to the hem of her nightgown.  He’d pulled it up slowly until his knuckles brushed the insides of her thighs. 

“Spread your legs,” he’d ordered as his thumb caught the crotch of her panties and pulled it away from her body.  “God, you’re so hot and wet already.”

“Bryce,” Kaya had whispered, grabbing a handful of his shirt for support as her knees had buckled from beneath her.  “What are you doing?”

“Testing,” he’d said, gazing into her eyes.