Lily Crawford had her hands full with cards and gifts. Coming to a stop before the fireplace, she dumped the whole pile on the plush rug and sank to her knees with a smile. She began to sort through her gifts. Fourteen. That was five more than last year. Lily always looked forward to her birthday; it was the only day of the year she got to feel really special.
She reached for the largest gift in the pile, a box about as wide as their TV. She was sure it was the computer she’d always badgered her mother for. She ran her hand over the pretty blue wrapping paper, then grabbed it, ready to tear it apart, when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Oh no, you don’t.”
Lily groaned and fell backward on the rug. “Seriously, Mom? Just this once, please?”
Her mother’s face hovered above her, a stern frown on her face. “No can do, young lady. Go and get ready for school. Now.”
“But it’s my birthday,” Lily simpered.
“Watch me,” her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Now, don’t make me repeat myself.”
Lily let out a huff and glanced dolefully at the pile of gifts. She shuffled toward the staircase, then stopped and turned to her mother, who was in their cramped kitchen preparing breakfast. Her mother was all she’d known. It had been just the two of them for years, moving from city to city on the East Coast. They had been in New Jersey for two years now, which was longer than they’d ever spent in one place. Perhaps her mother had finally left her demons behind.
Lily never understood why, but her mother never talked about her father. When Lily had asked, her mother had given the same response: her father didn’t want her, and she’d rather not talk about why. Eventually, Lily learned not to ask. But the questions never left her head.
“If you keep staring at me, you just might bore a hole through my forehead,” her mother spoke up.
Lily blinked. “Sorry, Mom.” She turned and bolted up the staircase.
A bowl of Rice Krispies was waiting for her on the kitchen island. Lily dug in, excited for her 13th birthday at school. Her mother pushed a blue lunch pack towards her.
“Remember to come home immediately after school,” her mother warned. “Don’t go to the park, don’t go to your friends’ houses. Come straight home.”
Lily’s face fell. “Not even this once, Mom?”
Her mother’s expression softened. She came around the island and planted a kiss on Lily’s forehead. “Don’t forget that we’re still new here. I just want you to be safe.”
“It’s been two years, and I’m 13 now,” Lily murmured.
“Two years isn’t a very long time,” her mother insisted. “And your age won’t matter if anyone wants to do something bad to you.”
“Whatever you’re running from,” Lily said, her hand joining her mother’s on her cheek, “it’s gone, Mother. It’s been 13 years.”
“God, how I wish I could believe you,” her mother whispered, her eyes full of a wistful desperation that broke Lily’s heart.
“Can I ask something?” Lily spoke up. “Can you tell me about my father when I come back from school? You promised you’d tell me when I was older.”
Her mother’s hands slipped from her cheeks. “Perhaps,” she said, turning away. “But go to school for now.”
As Lily walked to school, the cool morning breeze slicing through her long, reddish hair, she kicked a stray pebble down the road. The man she met wasn’t like the dangerous, tattooed men her mother always warned her about. No, this man was just poor, hungry, ragged. She would have walked past without another thought, but the pebble she was kicking somehow found its way to his feet.
The man picked up the pebble, turning it over in his dirty fingers. Then he glanced up and smiled at her. Her first instinct was to run, but the man’s smile was not eager or manic. It was soft, and very sad, reminding her of the one her mother wore just minutes ago.
“You must be going to school,” he noted.
“I am,” Lily replied hesitantly.
“Well, you should get on with it. You don’t want to be late.”
Lily didn’t move. “You look hungry,” she finally said. The man did, with his faded blue shirt hanging from his neck like rags and his cheeks dark and sunken.
“I am hungry,” the man replied.
Lily did the first thing that came to her head. She reached for her lunchbox, unzipped it, and pulled out the tuna sandwich her mother had prepared. “Here you go,” she said, offering it.
The man stared at her, then at the sandwich, then back up. Lily’s hand was starting to ache, so she grabbed his and placed the sandwich in his palm. “My mom didn’t make much because we’re going to have a big birthday lunch later, but it should serve you.”
Its plastic bag crinkled as he held it tight. “Thank you, sweet girl.”
A drop of cold rain fell against her cheek. “It’s about to rain.”
The man’s smile widened. Placing the sandwich on the ground, he turned into the alley behind him and emerged a second later with an umbrella. “Come, stay here until the rain passes.”
Lily didn’t hesitate. She could hear her mother’s warnings, but she didn’t care. She reached the homeless man, taking shelter under his umbrella. The rain took over with full force, tearing through the streets. She was glad to be under the umbrella with the nice man. She stared up at him. He had a full head of dark brown hair and a darker stubble. His skin looked smooth, gleaming. He doesn’t look very poor up close, Lily thought.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
Lily hastily pulled her gaze away. “You don’t look very homeless, except for your clothes. You look like…”
“I lost a lot of weight within a short period?” he offered. Lily nodded. He slipped the rest of his sandwich into his pocket. “I did lose a lot of weight in a short while, sweet girl. Trust me, when life hits you hard, your body has no choice but to take the blow to protect your spirit. Your spirit is all that matters.”
Lily frowned. “My mother used to say something similar.”
The man turned to her, brows shooting up. “Did she? Anytime I see her falling sick, she’d tell me her body could survive and bounce back from any blow. It was much better than bruising her spirit.” Lily felt rather than saw the man turn to stare at her. He finally broke the silence with a question. “What is your name, sweet girl?”
Never, ever tell a stranger your name, her mother’s voice bellowed in her head. But the man’s smile was gentle, and Lily found her mouth opening as if controlled by someone else.
“Lily,” she murmured. “My name is Lily Crawford.”
The man let out a soft gasp and took two steps backward, his back hitting the alley wall. Lily frowned. “Sir? Are you okay?”
“I am,” he murmured, his head pivoted towards the rain. “There. The rain has stopped.”
Lily turned to see that he was right. “I should be on my way. Goodbye, Lily.”
She sauntered out of the alleyway. She turned to glance at the man again. “What’s your name?” she called out.
The man gave her his soft, sad smile again. “Charles.”
“Right, Charles,” she repeated, then turned and joined her schoolmates. A few meters away, she turned to bid him goodbye again, but what she saw shocked her. The man had his back to her, a cell phone against his ear. She wasn’t far away and could hear every word. “I found her.”
An uncomfortable taste of fear settled on Lily’s tongue. She turned and hurried off to school.
She arrived at the school entrance, her mind still riddled with thoughts of the homeless man. The bell snapped her out of her revery. In math class, Mr. Bolton’s monotone voice droned on, but Lily’s thoughts remained elsewhere. She had to get out of here and find that homeless man again.
She discreetly texted her classmate Jaden, asking him to cover for her. Grabbing a bathroom pass, she slipped out of the classroom. The hallway was deserted. She pushed the glass doors open and walked out, retracing her steps back to the alleyway. But when she reached it, there was no sign of him. The alley was eerily quiet. Panic bloomed inside her. With tremulous hands, she dialed her mother’s number.
“Mom,” Lily gasped, “I need your help. Something’s happened.”
Lily stumbled to the door of their house, her fingers fumbling for her key. She had told a man she’d never met before all about her. The man knew her name, her school, that she had a mother. This was exactly what her mother had warned her against.
The lock finally obeyed. The door swung open, and Lily had one foot inside when she heard it. It was a dull sound at first, growing steadily in crescendo until it was all she could hear. Slowly, she turned to see a great dark shape soaring in the sky towards her house. It was a helicopter. It hovered above their house before beginning its descent.
“No,” she murmured, stumbling into the living room. She quickly shut the door and pressed her back against it, panting heavily. Her gifts still lay at the foot of the fireplace. Her bowl of cereal sat on the kitchen island.
“Mom?” she called out. Stiff silence. Of course, her mother was at work.
She heard short, sharp footsteps approaching the door. A curt knock made her gasp.
“Lily?” came a curious voice. “Lily Crawford?”
“Go away!” Lily snapped.
“I am not here to harm you, Lily. I merely want to show you something.”
Lily tried to decipher the voice, to tell if it was the man from the alley, but she couldn’t. Another knock. With a sigh of resolve, she opened the door. The man standing before her looked as old as her mother, with blue eyes like chipped sapphire and a blonde buzzcut.
“What do you want with me?” she asked.
The man’s lips lifted in a small smile. “My name is Arnold. Your alley friend sent me. He wants to meet with you.”
The alarm bells in her head were going crazy. Lily began to shut the door when he blurted, “He’s a friend of your mother’s!”
“He’s not! You’re lying!”
The man pulled out an old, wrinkled picture. A corner had been chewed off. Lily looked closely. Was that her mom? She looked more carefree and wilder than the steel-framed woman she knew, wearing a flowery blue sleeveless dress. Beside her was a boy with mousy brown hair, sharp hazel eyes, and a guitar hugged to his chest. They were both laughing.
“Where’d you get this?”
“Like I said, I’m a friend of your alley friend, who’s a friend of your mother’s.” He gestured to the massive aircraft. “Now, I would be delighted if you came along. He’s dying to meet you.”
“But I don’t know you.”
The man pursed his lips. “No, you don’t. A visible problem, I explained to him. But if I know your father well, he’s a lover of theatrics.”
The rest of what he said was lost. Only one word made sense. Father.
“Yes, Lily. Your father. He wants to see you.”
Her hesitation was worn thin. She had one chance to find out who her father was, to understand why she never grew up with him. Ignoring the instincts screaming in her head, she stepped out of the house. The helicopter loomed before them. She had never been in an aircraft before. The pilot, a blonde lady with large headphones, waved at her.
Arnold gently steered Lily to a plush leather seat. “Don’t worry, sweetie,” said the pilot. “I’ve been doing this for a long time. Just sit back and enjoy the view.”
As the helicopter’s engines roared to life, the world below shrank steadily. Soon, the rotors slowed, and the aircraft began to descend. Lily looked out the window and beheld the largest building she had ever seen. The chopper touched down on a sprawling lawn in front of a mansion with towering columns and carefully tended gardens.
“It’s beautiful,” she gasped.
“Your questions will be answered in time, Lily,” Arnold said. “Now come on, it’s almost tea time.”
The dining room was grand. The walls were adorned with floral tapestries and silver-edged mirrors. A long dining table groaned under the weight of an extravagant feast. Lily’s mouth watered. She took a bite of an egg sandwich.
“This is really good!” she exclaimed.
Arnold looked up, and a smile split his face. “Wait till you see the rest of the house.”
“Who owns it all? The helicopter, the mansion?” she asked.
“Your father owns it all.”
“All this while I thought he was dead, or wanted nothing to do with me,” she said, her voice low. “Why’d he abandon me and come back all of a sudden?”
Arnold sipped his tea. “Come. I’ll tell you a story while I give you a tour.”
He led her through hallways and drawing rooms. “Once upon a time, there was a lady and a man who met in California. The man in question was the young, budding son of a rich British business magnate. The lady, well, she was just the average girl trying to get through college.”
“How did they meet?”
“The boy always had this thing for music. He met your mother at an arts tour and saw her paintings, then fell in love with the artist herself. The boy’s father, the oil magnate, was an ill-tempered man who doted on his only son. When he found out about his son’s relationship, he asked him to call it quits.”
“Did he?”
“Not immediately. But the father already had a marriage choice for his son, a young woman named Ivory. Their marriage would mean a strong alliance between the two most powerful families in the city. When his father found out his son was still seeing the ordinary girl, he took matters into his own hands. He personally met and threatened your mother. She was made of steel, but this man was fire. So she left without a word. She left the state and never looked back.”
“His mother begged him to honor his father’s dying wish, which he did. He married Ivory. But our lover boy was heartbroken. His marriage with Ivory fell apart. He never stopped looking for your mother.”
“But why did she keep running?” Lily asked.
“Some things cannot be forgotten, Lily. Trauma cuts deep. Your grandfather would have harmed you if he knew she was pregnant. She wanted to protect you from this life. And she did a good job of it, too.”
Lily’s eyes were starting to smart. “Can I see my father now?”
Arnold led her down a corridor to a set of ornate double doors. “Here we are, Miss Crawford. Your room for the night.”
The room was bathed in soft candlelight, with a large four-poster bed. Many of her mother’s artworks hung on the walls. “How did her father get his hands on them?” she wondered. Exhaustion washed over her. Within seconds of slipping under the covers, Lily was asleep.
She slowly stirred from her sleep, becoming aware of soft murmurs floating around her. “…striking image of her mother, don’t you think?” “Yes, especially with that fiery red hair. It’s uncanny.” The creek of the door opening startled Lily. A figure stood silhouetted in the doorway. “Mr. Crawford will be here shortly,” a firm, authoritative voice said.
Lily’s heart skipped a beat. She held her breath until the footsteps receded.
“Miss Crawford,” came the voice again. “I know you’re awake.”
Lily let out a small groan. Arnold was standing at the foot of her bed. “Good morning, Arnold,” she greeted him.
“Excellent,” Arnold clapped his hands. “Now, how about a refreshing bath to start the day?”
“Actually, Arnold, I’d like to see my father now, please.”
“Of course,” he said. “But let’s have breakfast first, shall we? Your father is on his way.”
In the dining hall, an even more extravagant feast was laid out. As Lily took her first bite of scrambled eggs, the doors swung open again. A man strode inside wearing a three-piece suit and a dove-gray coat. The man looked familiar. Lily’s eyes widened in surprise. Charles.
Charles gave her a hesitant smile. He glanced at Arnold, who gave him a reassuring nod. “Hello, Lily.”
Questions crashed into one another in Lily’s head. “How… how did you get here? You look totally different, too.”
Charles pushed his hands into his coat’s pockets and smiled. “Well, I didn’t need that attire anymore. I had to prepare for this moment.”
“Prepare for what?”
The smile faded. “I had to prepare to meet my daughter.”
Lily’s heart pounded. Was the man she had encountered in the alley truly her father? Charles took a tentative step forward. “Lily… I’m sorry for being absent all these years. I should have been a part of your life…”
Before he could say more, Lily rushed forward, wrapping her arms around his midriff. For a moment, Charles stiffened, then he eased into the embrace. Tears streamed down Lily’s cheeks. It was a moment she had longed for.
As they pulled away, Charles crouched down to her eye level. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, Lily.”
“I’ve missed you too, Dad,” she replied, the singular word rolling off her tongue with a sense of familiarity she hadn’t felt in years.
“Come on,” he said after a moment. “Let’s go see your mother. She must be worried to death.”
This time, they took a car. As Arnold pulled up to their house, they saw half a dozen squad cars parked out front. Lily slipped her hand into her father’s and led him to the door. Before she could open it, it swung open to reveal her mother, her face streaked with worry and tears. She glanced from Lily to her father, and then back, her expression morphing from worry to confusion.
“Hello, Nancy,” Charles spoke up.
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the years peeled away. Tears breached the dams of Nancy’s eyes. She had lived with the ghost of their love, haunted by the spectre of Charles’s father. Yet here he was.
As Nancy sobbed into Charles’s shoulder, Lily moved closer. When Nancy finally looked up, her eyes met his. “Charles… I never thought…”
Charles took her hand. “Nancy, I’m so sorry for everything. For not fighting harder.”
Nancy shook her head, a fragile smile dancing on her lips. “It was not just you, Charles. I was afraid, too. Afraid of losing you so completely that I hid away.”
“I’ve lived every day with the what-ifs,” he said, his gaze steady. “But standing here now, with our daughter, maybe it’s not too late for us. For a new beginning.”
“A new beginning,” she echoed.
“Yes,” Charles affirmed, squeezing her hand gently. “Together. As a family. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” In that small, vine-covered cottage, a family began to heal, their love a testament to the enduring power of second chances.