For the Love of Chelsea
Alex Devane held the envelope in trembling fingers. Sitting at his office desk, he used a letter opener to make a small opening. Scared, he paused because the contents inside the envelope could change his life, irrevocably. He ripped the envelope open in a flash of movement, but stopped, unable to remove the paper inside. Alex took a deep breath before he pinched the paper between two fingers and pulled it from the envelope. He sat stunned, the words blurring in front of his eyes. It was true . What Foxy had told him was true . Six-year-old Chelsea was his daughter!
Alex swam in a sea of emotion. Elated that he finally had a child, he was disappointed that he had missed the first six years of that child’s life. Worry and fear knotted his stomach. His admin had cancelled his remaining appointments, per his request. Alex looked at his watch and shook his head. Time had passed too quickly. He had only an hour to decide how he would tell Sylvia, his wife of ten years.
Alex walked through his front door. Trying to delay the inevitable, he moved quietly, slowly. The minute Sylvia saw him she would know something was wrong. As he passed the mirror hanging on the wall in the foyer, he saw a tall, slim, pecan-colored man, his face an unsmiling mask.
Sylvia, who was medium in every way—medium sized, medium height, medium brown—bounced down the steps, smiling. As an elementary school teacher, she always got home before he did. “Hi honey,” she said, as she reached the last step, her sock-clad feet making no noise. But with one look at his face, her smiled faded. “What’s wrong, Alex?”
Alex reached her side and pulled her into a tight hug. God, I love this woman. “I have something to tell you, Sylvia.” He released her, but holding her hand tightly, he led her into the living room.
“What’s the matter, Alex? You’re scaring me.” Her eyes wide with apprehension, Sylvia sat next to her husband on the couch.
“I don’t know how to tell you this, Sylvia. I spent all afternoon trying to come up with a way, but—”
“What? Are you sick?”
“No, nothing like that.” Alex inhaled and plunged forward. “I found out today that I have a child. A six-year-old daughter. I…” His words ran out. He looked at Sylvia, his breathing suspended. Her expression was one of disbelief, but it was quickly followed by shock.
“You what?”
“I—”
“Six years old?” Sylvia rose from the sofa and began pacing the room. “So, this means that when you had that affair seven years ago, you and that Foxy bitch had a child?” By the end of her question, Sylvia’s voice had reached an octave and pitch so high and so loud that their glass knick-knacks trembled.
Alex bowed his head. The affair had been a mistake. It had come during a time when he’d felt adrift. He’d lost his best friend to illness, and instead of turning to Sylvia, he’d turned away from her. The affair had only lasted a short while, a month at most, but that was enough time for Sylvia to find out about it. It had taken them awhile, but they’d finally put that time behind them. And while the affair itself had been a mistake, his child was not.
“Are you going to answer me?” Sylvia’s voice, sharp in tone, implied he was ignoring her.
“Um…yes…Foxy and I did have a child.” Alex held up a hand before Sylvia could ask her next question. “No, I didn’t know until a few weeks ago. Foxy called my office. I didn’t believe her at first…our thing had been so short. But she insisted, so we did a DNA test. I got the results today.”
Sylvia covered her face with her hands, but a few tears leaked between her fingers, anyway. “I can’t believe this.” Though before the cry could fully take hold, Sylvia launched another attack. “And why now?”
“What?”
“Why is that whore telling you now? I mean the child is six. What does she want…money? I bet it was that article about you last month in…in…whatever that damn magazine was. I bet she read that, and now you’re a living, breathing ATM.”
Alex couldn’t answer, couldn’t refute Sylvia’s logic. But Foxy’s reasons didn’t matter, didn’t change anything; Chelsea was still his daughter.
Sylvia’s sobs lifted him from his thoughts, and Alex rose to console her, to dry her tears. “Honey,” he started, but when he touched her, Sylvia froze.
“Don’t you dare touch me…you…you bastard.” She snatched away from his grasp and ran to the stairs so fast she skidded on the hardwood floor at the first step. Running up the steps, she howled her hurt, her anger, her disappointment.
Alex sank back onto the couch. The tears coursing down his face expressed his own hurt, anger and disappointment.
The month had passed quickly for Alex, filled with visits to Carowinds, Celebration Station, Chuck E. Cheese’s, all the places in Charlotte built to entertain children. He’d thought it important he spend time with Chelsea alone before introducing her to Sylvia. And so he had, all day every Saturday for the past month. But, this Saturday was different; she was spending the night at their house.
Alex walked to the bathroom door to check on her. The smell of the apricot bubble bath met him in the hallway and he smiled. Chelsea had informed him she was a big girl, old enough to take her own bath, without any help. She was a happy little girl, small for her age, about his complexion with shoulder-length twists all over her head. Alex thought she was precious, and he was amazed at the depth of his love for her.
Walking back to the master bedroom, Alex tensed. Apprehension prickled his skin. The last month hadn’t been the best in his marriage, and he knew his coming announcement wouldn’t help. Sylvia sat on the edge of the bed and glanced up as he came through the door, her face tight. She hadn’t been rude to Chelsea tonight, but warm wasn’t the proper description, either. The word “tolerated” sprang to his mind, and it described her interaction with his daughter perfectly.
“Sylvia, I’m gonna sleep in the guest room with Chelsea tonight.” His breath caught in his throat while he waited for her response.
She didn’t disappoint. “Why? Why do you need to do that? She’s not a baby, Alex.”
“I know she’s not a baby, Sylvia. But, she’s in a new place. I don’t want her to be scared.”
“She has that damn night light you insisted I buy. Isn’t that enough?”
Sylvia’s stance indicated her attitude. One hand rested on her hip and the other was raised, a finger wagging in his face as she talked.
Alex’s patience perched on its last leg. He had tried to empathize with Sylvia. He realized all this was a shock, but none of it was Chelsea’s fault. And he wasn’t going to have his daughter feel uncomfortable in his house. Trying to keep his temper, he lowered his voice. “No Sylvia, that’s not enough. I’m sleeping in her room tonight. I—”
“If you spend tonight away from this bed, then don’t think you’re gonna return tomorrow night. I will not—”
“Fine,” Alex said, grabbing his robe. He left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Alex squinted against the beaming sun as he drove away from his house, the next day. Chelsea, on her way home, sat in the back, playing with her teddy. She looked up and through the rearview mirror, saw her dad and waved.
“Daddy, I like it at your house. When can I come back?”
“You’ll be back next Saturday.” Love swelled in his heart, bringing a smile he couldn’t hold back had he wanted to.
“Daddy, why Miss Sylvia don’t like me?”
Her little faced was puckered with confusion. Alex didn’t know what to say. They say children can tell, and now, he found truth in that statment. “She likes you, Chelsea. She just wasn’t feeling well, she was kind of sickly, you know?”
Chelsea’s eyes met his with skepticism. “Uh-uh…she don’t like me.”
Alex saw tears gathering in those big, pretty eyes, and a surprising hated for Sylvia lanced his heart. Damn you. Sylvia! How could you hurt an innocent child like this?
Alex’s phone rang, and he answered absentmindedly, as he was deep into an analysis of one of his client’s portfolios. “Alex Devane.”
“Alex, it’s Foxy.” Her tone, light and flirtatious, she continued, “I’d like to see you. Can I stop by your office around twelve or so?”
The sound of her voice captured his attention, grabbing it from the work he’d found so engrossing a minute ago. His heart began an arrhythmic beat. “Is something wrong with Chelsea?”
Foxy gave a skittish laugh. “No, nothing like that. But it does have something to do with her. I just need to see you.”
Alex hesitated. He didn’t know what Foxy wanted; he thought they had the child support and visitation all worked out. But maybe, Sylvia was right about the money, and Foxy was beginning to make additional cash withdrawals. Still, Foxy was Chelsea’s mother, and he felt compelled to talk to her. Sylvia would freak if she knew Foxy had come by his office; she already thought Foxy wanted him. In addition, his admin felt it was her duty to protect his marriage from any woman who walked in the office. No, this was not the place to meet Foxy.
“Alex…you there?”
“Can’t you just tell whatever it is now, on the phone?”
“No, I need to talk to you in person. It’s important, Alex.”
“Well…okay. How about I meet you at Harper’s…at…um…eleven-thirty? You know the one at Sharon and Fairview? It’s close to here.”
“That’ll be good. See you there.”
Though Harper’s was filled with mouth-watering aromas and his food looked delicious, Alex’s fork remained on the table. Hunger was not his overriding need at the moment; information was. “Foxy, what do you want?” He didn’t speak rudely, but his patience had been spent. Foxy had delayed through their seating and ordering.
“Well Alex…I don’t know how to tell you this…Chelsea doesn’t know yet…but…I’m dying. I don’t—”
“What? Dying? From what?” Alex couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Foxy looked as good as ever; she must be joking.
“I have pancreatic cancer, Alex. That’s why I told you about Chelsea…I have no other family. Well I do, but nobody I’d entrust with her. I need you, Alex. Chelsea needs you. Promise me that you’ll take her and raise her.”
“Oh my God, Foxy! I’m so sorry.” So shocked by Foxy’s revelation, Alex’s brain was sluggish. “Damn, I can’t believe this. How much longer…” His words died out, leaving the rest of his question unasked.
“Do I have? Less than a year.”
Alex understood now why Foxy had suddenly appeared with Chelsea in tow. She’d told him when she first appeared, over a month ago, that she’d been trying to protect his marriage before; that was why she’d kept him in the dark. She’d said that she’d changed her mind with time and thought he needed to know, even after six years. Alex had been so angry with her for keeping Chelsea from him that he’d barely kept that anger under control. But, all of that was water under the bridge now; the important thing was Chelsea.
“Oh my God! Of course, I’ll take her, she’s my daughter.”
Lifting the napkin from her lap, Foxy used it to wipe the tear rolling down her cheek. She bowed her head for a minute, as if in silent prayer. As she brought her head up, her eyes met Alex’s and she whispered, “Thank you, Alex. Thank you.”
His mind reeling, Alex gave little thought to Sylvia as he commiserated with Foxy—about Foxy and about Chelsea.
Alex arrived home that evening after a not very productive afternoon at his office. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that Foxy was dying. Nor could he imagine how Sylvia was going to take the news that Chelsea would be living with them. And she would be living with them; there was no doubt about that.
The front door closed behind him with a quiet click. He put his briefcase down beside the table in the foyer. He just stood there for a minute, trying to decide how to tell Sylvia. He knew she hated the idea of Chelsea; she hated that his daughter even existed. And now he was going to have to tell her that Chelsea would be living here, with them. He realized it would be hard on Sylvia, but he really had no choice. He loved Sylvia with all of his heart, but he loved Chelsea just as much. Alex took a deep breath and let it out in a big sigh, his cheeks puffing out as the air whooshed from his mouth.
Alex found Sylvia in the kitchen, where the aroma wafting through the air went unnoticed. He sat at the table before speaking. “Sylvia, I have something to tell you.”
Sylvia stopped looking at the pan of chicken she was frying and looked at him. Her face was stony, not betraying any emotion, but the fork in her hand shook just a little, and a drop of grease fell to the floor.
“I had lunch with Foxy today,” Alex stopped for a moment when he heard Sylvia gasp, “and she told me she’s dying. She has cancer and she’s got less than a year.” Another sigh escaped him as he looked up at Sylvia; she was still standing. She was an intelligent woman, so Alex knew she realized the implications of what he’d told her, but he plowed on. “Chelsea’s gonna have to come live with us.”
It was as if Sylvia hadn’t heard him. Her expression was unchanged; her lips remained a straight line, she made not one sound.
“Sylvia, did you hear me?”
She turned around as if the chicken had called her name, as if Alex was nonexistent.
Stony silence lived in their home as the rest of the week passed. Alex hated bringing Chelsea into the emotional morass at his house, so he’d kept her out as late as possible this Saturday.
As a result, they’d gotten to the house just in time for Chelsea’s bath. Alex watched as she gathered up her jammies and water toys. Just as Chelsea headed for the bathroom, Sylvia poked her head out of their bedroom.
“Hi, Miss Sylvia,” Chelsea piped up, her eyes bright, a big grin on her face.
For a minute, Alex thought Sylvia wasn’t going to respond, but finally she gave Chelsea a grudging hello.
Alex waited in Chelsea’s room while she washed and splashed and finally came out of the bathroom with the back of her pajama top clinging to her still wet back. He smiled, went to get the amazingly dry towel and dried her back before tucking her into bed.
When Chelsea was sleep, Alex turned the light off and walked wearily into his bedroom, his shoulders slumped. Sylvia was in the bed, her gaze fixed on some point on the ceiling.
“She can’t live here. That little bastard can’t live here.” Sylvia snatched her gaze from the ceiling and fired it at Alex.
“What? What the hell are you talking about, Sylvia?” Alex stopped in his tracks and looked at his wife, his eyes just as hot as hers.
“You heard what I said, Alex. Not here, not with us.”
“What the hell is wrong with you? She’s a little girl. Her mother is dying. How can you say that? She would have to go in the system.” Alex was so stunned by Sylvia’s reaction that he talked about Chelsea as if she were any child, not just his child.
Sylvia left the bed, an indentation held her place. Getting right in Alex’s face, she screamed, “I don’t care where the little bitch goes. She. Can’t. Stay. Here.”
Alex bent down so that Sylvia could see every line in his face. “Don’t you ever call my daughter a bitch or a bastard again. Do you hear me, Sylvia?” His whisper was so virulent that Sylvia took a step back.
Their eyes locked, neither of them said a word. The air was thick with tension, and a never-before-felt violence emanated from them both. Neither was aware of anything except the anger and the hatred directed toward the other.
“Miss Sylvia, why don’t you like me?”
Alex wheeled around and there in the doorway, stood Chelsea. Her teddy grasped tightly in one hand and her blanket trailing behind her in the other. Alex scooped her from the floor, hugging her tightly, the blanket and the teddy squeezed between them.
Chelsea looked over Alex’s shoulder, and in a tiny voice, she questioned her step-mother again. “Miss Sylvia, why you don’t like me?”
Sylvia said nothing. Alex, scared of what she might say, started from the room. Just as he reached the door, he heard Sylvia break down in huge, gulping sobs.
“Daddy, Miss Sylvia’s crying. Miss Sylvia, don’t cry.” Chelsea continued to tell Sylvia not to cry as Alex walked down the hall.
“It’s okay, Chelsea. She’ll be fine. As soon as you go to sleep, I’m gonna go see about Miss Sylvia, okay?” Alex eased her concern as he brushed a twist from her face.
He picked up one of her favorite books and sitting on the edge of her bed, he began to read to her. She was sound asleep in minutes. Alex put the book down and when he turned to leave he saw Sylvia standing in the door.
Inside their bedroom, Sylvia looked at her husband, her eyes tearing. “Alex, I’m so sorry about the way I’ve been acting about Chelsea.”
Silence met her apology. Alex didn’t even look at her. He sat straight up in the bed, his back resting against the headboard.
Sylvia’s voice quivered as she spoke. “Um…I realize that I’ve been acting like a bitch. I know I act like I don’t like Chelsea, but that’s not true , Alex. She’s a sweet little girl, but Alex, I was so pissed off when you told me about her.” More silence. Pacing back and forth along the foot of the bed, Sylvia continued, “All I could think about was your affair. She brought all that up again. And then…to realize you had a child… a child with somebody else…while you were married to me. I just couldn’t stand it.”
Alex sat listening to her, though he gave no indication Sylvia was even there.
Sylvia suddenly sat on the edge of the bed, one leg tucked beneath her. She leaned forward as she faced Alex. Tears rolled freely down her cheeks when he continued to stare at the ceiling, his face set. Taking a ragged breath, Sylvia talked. “Alex, can’t you imagine how I felt? We’ve been married ten years and we’ve been trying to have a baby. Two miscarriages,” she paused, holding up two fingers, “I’ve had two miscarriages, Alex.” Her breath was now coming in ragged gasps. “I’m scared…I that I won’t ever…no baby.”
Alex’s gaze traveled from the ceiling to the wall in front of him, and from there to the mirrored dresser, before coming to a rest on his wife. The pain she felt was evident on her face and the ice around his heart began to melt.
Sylvia suddenly covered her face with her hands, but the tears continued falling, making a wet spot on her lap. “Alex…I’m just so…scared. Scared you’re gonna leave me…scared I can’t have a baby…scared you’re gonna…leave me. You and Foxy and Chelsea…a family. I…”
Alex, his heart hammering, scooted towards his wife and reaching her, grabbed her and held her close. He didn’t say anything, but his mind was awash with thoughts. He didn’t know how he couldn’t have realized how this would hit Sylvia. Oh, he had known she’d be angry and upset as any woman would be, but he hadn’t given a single thought to her as an individual woman and her particular experiences. He’d skimmed the surface, classifying her reaction as a female thing, not a Sylvia thing. How could he have been so stupid, especially since he’d known her particular experiences? Holding her tight, a single tear running down his cheek, he comforted her.
“Oh honey…you don’t have to worry about any of that. I love you.” Alex felt her arms around him and he squeezed her tighter. “I don’t want Foxy.” He released her, holding her face in his hands so he could look straight in her eyes. “You are my life, Sylvia. And a baby, that’d be great…but I have what I need right here…and that’s you.” Alex hugged her again as Sylvia sobbed.
They sat there, on the edge of their bed, holding each other, reaffirming their love.
Chelsea woke and rubbing her eyes, searched the bed for Teddy. He was lying in a strip of sunlight, and Chelsea grabbed him before getting out of the bed.
She tiptoed down the hallway and peeped at her daddy and Miss Sylvia. She giggled a little because her daddy was snoring. But, she quickly covered her mouth and ran to the bathroom. After tinkling, Chelsea stood on her tippy-toes and just managed to reach the knobs over the sink. Water streamed from the faucet and she made a soapy mess washing her hands. Her toes hurt as she stretched and strained to turn the water off. The towel wasn’t where she’d left it last night. Instead, it hung high on the shower rod, so she rubbed her hands down the sides of her jammies, leaving two wet streaks.
She opened the bathroom door and standing right in front of her was Miss Sylvia. Chelsea stopped and looked up at her, hugging Teddy close to her chest.
"Good morning, Chelsea," Sylvia said, a smile on her face and in her voice.
Chelsea gave her a tentative smile. She didn't know what to think because Miss Sylvia wasn't usually this nice. But, she had been raised to speak when spoken to.
"Good morning, Miss Sylvia."
"You hungry?" Sylvia asked, holding out her hand.
"Um-hum." Chelsea nodded, but didn't move to take Sylvia's hand.
Kneeling, so that she'd be eye to eye with Chelsea, Sylvia's smile vanished. "Chelsea, I know I haven't been real nice to you, right?"
Chelsea nodded again, holding Teddy tight in one hand.
"I want to apologize to you. I want us to be friends, okay?" Another smile appeared on Sylvia's face.
"What's 'plogize'?" Though Chelsea didn't understand the word, she did understand the tone, the smile, and the outstretched hand. Her hold on Teddy loosened a bit.
"Oh! That just means I'm sorry about how I treated you."
"Okay, Miss Sylvia. Friends." She put her tiny hand in Sylvia's much larger one, bringing a tear to Sylvia's eye.
They traipsed down the stairs and into the kitchen hand in hand, where Sylvia started breakfast, and Chelsea told Teddy that Miss Sylvia was her new friend.
"Chelsea," Sylvia said, as they sat at the table eating. "Since you'll be spending weekends here, what do you think about decorating your room?” Scrunching her nose, she looked at Chelsea. "I think it's downright ugly for a pretty little girl like you."
"Yea! I want mermaids!"
"Mermaids it is, then. We'll go shopping as soon as the stores open."
The smell of bacon traveled up the stairs and into the master bedroom, where it seeped into Alex’s subconscious. He awoke and with one arm, swept the other side of the bed, looking for Sylvia. Not finding her, he opened his eyes and threw the cover aside, his feet hitting the floor with a plop.
He peeped in Chelsea's room and found her gone, too. The breakfast smells—bacon and toast—finally penetrating his consciousness, Alex took the steps two at a time. Arriving at the kitchen door just in time to hear the mermaid discussion, he stood there for a minute, unnoticed and reveling in the heartwarming scene in front of him.
Chelsea looked up and spotted him. She jumped into his arms with the assurance that he would catch her. "Daddy! I'm getting mermaids! Miss Sylvia said so."
"She did?" Chelsea’s excitement was so infectious, he found himself thrilled over something he couldn’t possibly have cared less about. His gaze drifted to Sylvia. Her smile warmed his heart. Beckoning, he held out his arm, and when she came into his embrace, his world was complete.
To check out the first six chapters of my novel, The Aura of Love, click on My Blogs!
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