“I Came to the Hospital”[]
We met the next morning.
He was already sitting in the café when I arrived.
He kept turning his coffee cup in small circles.
The gesture brought back a strange memory.
He had done the same thing at my kitchen table ten years earlier.
“You knew his name,” I said.
“Teagan told me.”
“Then you knew about him.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you come?”
“I did.”
I stared at him.
“I came to the hospital.”
Trudy’s words rushed back into my mind.
“You were there.”
He nodded.
“My parents wanted me to stay away. They thought a baby would ruin everything I’d planned.”
“And what did you think?”
He looked down.
“I was scared.”
He paused.
“I loved Teagan, but I let everyone else tell me what my life should be.”
“That explains eighteen,” I said.
“It doesn’t explain ten years.”
He didn’t argue.
“Teagan told me not to come back until I was willing to choose for myself.”
“And you finally did?”
“Yes.”
“After she died.”
His face tightened.
“I didn’t know she was dead when I left home.”
“But you found out at the hospital.”
“Yes.”
“And you saw me carrying Lucas.”
He wiped his face.
“I panicked.”
“What about the next day?”
Silence.
“I panicked.”
“The next week?”
He looked away.
“The next year?”
His voice became quieter.
“I kept telling myself I’d waited too long.”
“And every year after that?”
He swallowed.
“Every year made that excuse easier.”
I believed him.
But understanding wasn’t the same as excusing him.
“Does Lucas know about me?” he asked.
“He knows his father exists.”
“Can I see him?”
“No.”
His head lifted.
“I’m his father.”
“You are the man who fathered him,” I said.
“What happens next depends on what you do now.”
He swallowed.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Write him a letter.”
“A letter?”
“Tell him who you are. Tell him why you weren’t there. Tell him why you’re here now.”
He nodded.
“And don’t blame Teagan.”
“I won’t.”
I looked directly at him.
“You don’t get credit for showing up ten years late.”
He lowered his eyes.
“But you do get a chance to decide what kind of man you’re going to be now.”
The Letter for Lucas
Two days later, an envelope appeared on my porch.
Lucas’s name was written across the front.
I hated the idea of opening something addressed to my grandson.
But he was ten.
I was responsible for what entered his life.
So I read it first.
One sentence stayed with me.
“I was scared when I was eighteen, but being scared doesn’t explain ten years.”
He didn’t ask Lucas to forgive him.
He didn’t blame Teagan.
He didn’t blame me.
He simply told the truth as he understood it.
Before I gave the letter to Lucas, I called Trudy again.
“Can you meet me?”
She sounded surprised.
“I thought you’d never want to see me again.”
“I didn’t say I forgave you.”
“I understand.”
“There’s something else I need.”
One Last Question About Teagan
We met the next afternoon.
This time, I wasn’t there to ask about Lucas’s father.
I was there for Teagan.
“Was she scared?” I asked.
Trudy’s expression softened.
“Yes.”
“Was she alone?”
“No. People were with her the whole time.”
I closed my eyes.
“Did she ask for me?”
“Yes.”
My throat tightened.
“Did she think I’d left?”
“No.”
Trudy shook her head.
“She knew you were waiting nearby.”
“What did she say?”
Trudy thought for a moment.
“She worried she hadn’t bought enough diapers.”
I laughed through my tears.
“That sounds like her.”
Then Trudy smiled sadly.
“She talked about you.”
I looked up.
“What did she say?”
“She said you made pancakes too thick and refused to admit it.”
A laugh escaped me.
Even after ten years, Teagan could still embarrass me.
Then Trudy became serious.
“She wasn’t angry with you.”
I looked down.
“She should have been.”
“I spent more time asking about Lucas’s father than asking my daughter about what she was afraid of.”
Trudy shook her head.
“Maybe.”
She paused.
“But that’s not what she gave me.”
I looked at her.
“Did she know I loved her?”
Trudy didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
That was the first thing Trudy had given me that didn’t feel like another wound.
“Did she know I loved her?”
“Yes.”
For ten years, I had wondered.
Now I finally had an answer.
