Shepard

4 - Planning

Lynette

It’s not that I didn’t want Shepard; the man is all I’ve thought about since I was sixteen. I watched him struggle with his relationship with my friend for years. A friend who took me in for a short while after I ran away from my father.

I watched Shepard become a father to her children. I often argued with Celia about how she treated Shepard and the children I cared for most of the time. I loved them as if they were my own. I still do.

Shepard is the man who helped me when my daughter’s father left us because he believed I’d cheated on him and had someone else’s child. Why would he think such a thing?

Because he was Puerto Rican, I’m white, and our baby was my color, not his. His family pushed the idea into his dumb brain that even a half-Puerto Rican child would be dark in color.

My beautiful baby girl had light skin and hazel eyes and looked just like me. However, she was most definitely Jose’s baby. For two damn years, he made me feel like crap over what his family believed.

He wouldn’t allow me to name him as Willow’s father on the birth certificate, and he wouldn’t have anything to do with her at all. If she so much as walked up to him, he’d flip out, and it would scare my little girl so badly that she would sob in fear. Which, of course, would make me angry, making him more furious.

Once I’d calmed Willow down, Jose would take his anger out on me. Sometimes, he’d batter me so severely that I’d have to hide away until the bruises disappeared.

Jose was no kind of father to Willow. He never celebrated with me when she said her first word, walked her first steps, or cut her first tooth. No, Shepard did. Even though Willow wasn’t his, Shepard always treated her like his child.

I’ve spent years loving a man I never believed would be mine. He’s my best friend; there is no doubt about that.

How can I be best friends with an outlaw biker ten years my senior?

Because beyond the criminal, beyond the violence, he is a fantastic man, friend, and father. A man not many get to see—a man I have seen many times.

Whenever he’s down and drinks himself stupid over missing his little girl, I’m there to pick up the pieces and make sure he’s okay. I’m the one who takes care of his son so that he doesn’t have to see his father at his lowest.

I’m the one who loves them both so much; I would die for them as much as I would my little girl.

I think Tate also deserves a mother who will put him first. A mother who will never leave him and always love him, and I do love him. I’m not saying I should be his mother, but I love him like he was my own.

Every day since Celia walked away, I’ve been there. Tate always comes to me when he needs something. Even just someone to talk to. We spoke a lot after Celia walked away from him.

I cried that first day. Shepard’s mother, Myra, had called me to see if I could collect Tate. She filled me in on what happened, and I headed right on over.

The second I got Tate home, he wrapped his arms around my waist so tightly and cried as I stroked the back of his hair and kissed his head. Willow wrapped her arms around him and held him just as tightly.

‘She didn’t want me!’ He cried, and my heart broke for that little boy.

‘She didn’t deserve you, Tate,’ I told him. Not that it would be any comfort to him. I knew that but didn’t know what to say to him.

‘She took Nova!’

‘I know, baby, I know.’

I rocked Tate in my arms and shushed him, all the while telling him how much I loved him and would never leave him. I just wanted him to know that somebody loved him.

It took me an age to calm Tate down. After his shower, Tate sat on the couch with Willow, both of them in PJs, his arms wrapped around Willow protectively. He kept telling her how he’d always protect her, that nothing would ever happen to her, and that no one would take her from him. It broke my heart, and I sat at my kitchen table, crying to myself and wondering why Celia had done this.

She said nothing to me that would have caused me to think she’d leave and take Nova without a word as to why. Celia didn’t care about anybody but herself, and I worried about Nova continuously. Celia might have been her mother, but I raised that baby girl. Celia had never had time for Nova before. I felt Nova’s loss as if she were my child. I loved that little girl and felt the pain everyone around me was in, which tripled my own.

I felt Shepard and Tate’s pain at never knowing what happened to Nova. I cried myself to sleep some nights, wondering why. I held Willow a little tighter, a little longer every day. I watched as the man I have loved forever crumbled under the weight of such a huge loss.

No matter how hard Shepard tried, he couldn’t find his little girl. I’ve encouraged him these past two years not to give up. Never give up. I know in my heart that we will one day find Nova. No one will give up until she’s home. However, Shepard has to face the fact that he needs to try to live his life. Tate needs him. We all need him.

“Hey, Mommy.”

“Hi, baby,” I smile at my little girl from my spot at the kitchen table.

I’m trying to organize Willow’s birthday party. It’s not for a while yet, not for a few months, but I like to plan her parties in advance, especially as I want them to be special for her.

Twelve.

Jesus, where do the years go?

“You look beautiful today, Mommy,” Willow tells me while wrapping her arms around my shoulders from behind and kissing my head.

My daughter, she may be, but we have a special bond. Best friends, as she tells everyone we are.

Beautiful. Willow always tells me how beautiful she thinks I am, even when I look like crap. I look like crap right now. I’m not wearing anything special today: shorts, a tank top, nothing on my feet. My little girl is a real confidence booster when I’m feeling down.

“As do you, my princess.” She’s wearing a blue summer dress with flip-flops on her little feet, her long hair is tied in a messy ponytail, and she’s always smiling.

She kisses my cheek and then sits beside me, clasping my hand in hers, making me smile. Such is the way of a little girl.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

“That’s okay, baby,” I smile. “I do need to get dinner started, though.”

“Is Shepard coming over tonight?”

Every night, Willow asks the same thing. She loves Shepard like a father, and it hurts that she’s never had one. She didn’t deserve a father who wouldn’t even try to love her.

Willow clings to Shepard because he does love her. It’s written all over his face whenever she runs into his arms.

Am I so selfish in wishing Shepard could be mine?

Wishing my baby girl could have a father, she’d mean everything to?

“I’m not sure, sweetheart. He might be busy.”

“I’ll go ask!” She is out the door before I can stop her.