Daisy’s mouth dropped open. He talked like they were teenagers. “Papi, Ken is not the father.”
Her mom frowned. “I don’t understand.”
She had to swallow past the humiliation that stuck the words in her throat. “The father knows and isn’t interested. He’s signed over all parental rights to me.”
“No. That’s not right.” Her dad shook his head. “A man—”
“A man who is already married isn’t going to leave his highly successful and beautiful wife for the pregnant woman he had on the side, Papi.” The shattered silence brought to light how callously she handled this conversation. “Obviously, I didn’t know he was married,” she murmured. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she impatiently swiped it away. “I told Ken yesterday. He said he loves me and still wants to be with me. Ken is everything you thought he was.”
“I am not surprised.”
“But will he marry you?” her mom demanded.
Daisy shrugged. “How should I know? Now isn’t really the best time to be talking about something like that.”
Her mom raised an eyebrow. “I think now is the perfect time to be talking about it.”
She frowned and shook her head. “Why should he rush into a decision to cover someone else’s mistakes? Even if he offered—and he didn’t—I think I’d turn him down.”
Her father rubbed his forehead in slow, weary movements. “Daisy, I’m not sure that’s the right decision.”
With a heavy sigh, Daisy said, “Well, Papi, I respect that. But whether you think so or not, it’s my decision. I know in my heart that I love Ken Dixon and want to be with him for the rest of my life. Let’s see how he feels after the baby.”
“When are you due?” her mom asked, tears in her eyes.
“February twenty-sixth. I’m about a quarter of the way there.”
They sat silent for several moments. Tension hung in the air like a cloud. Finally, her mom reached out and took her hand. “How about we pray together? I think that’s just what we need.”
Her dad slowly raised his head. She searched his eyes, seeking any indication as to what he felt right now. She got disappointment, but not condemnation nor anger. “I’m really sorry,” Daisy said in a wobbly voice.
“Daisy, all of us have failed God in some way. I would not even begin to piously judge you. I can only love you and support you and tell you that if you need anything, we are here.” He held a hand out, and she placed hers in his. He sandwiched her hand with both of his. “I’ve never been unmarried and pregnant, so I can’t give you empathy, but I can give you my shoulder, and I’m ready with advice whenever you ask.”
She bowed her head and rested her forehead on the back of his hand. “Thank you, Papi,” she whispered.
OnSaturday, Ken worked from about four in the morning until two, when his body finally decided he’d done enough manual labor for the day. He headed over to his parents’ house to watch the baseball game but could barely concentrate on the action. He could only think about Daisy’s news. He wanted to pull her close, hold her inside the shelter of his arms, and protect her from gossip and condemnation.
But, at this point, nothing could change what had happened. She had to face it. At least she didn’t have to face it alone.
Buddy, Valerie’s uncle and his dad’s best friend, arrived in the middle of the fourth inning with a platter of hand-formed hamburgers and some deer sausages to put on the grill. At the top of the seventh inning, Brad and Valerie arrived carrying bowls of potato salad and coleslaw.
When the game ended, Ken’s mom went to the store to get buns and pickles, and he helped haul food down to the pool house. He and Brad carried the grill to the poolside patio.
As Ken lit the grill, Brad asked, “Did you hear from Wade this week?”
Back in college, they’d become friends with Wade Snyder, a basketball player on scholarship to Auburn University. He’d joined their Bible study group the first week of school. Even though Wade had started school older than most Freshmen at twenty-one, they’d easily become friends.
For four years, Ken and his brothers prayed with him, studied scripture with him, and went together on several mission trips. He’d entered politics young and became the first black United States Senator from Alabama. Now, he was running for President.
Ken said, “I heard from Evan.” Evan Strickland, another college buddy, ran Wade’s campaign. “They’re the favorites, according to Evan. He asked for financial support.”
Brad grinned. “Yeah. I’ve been following the campaign. Wade might actually do this.” He shook his head. “We told him that, remember? How good he was with people and politics.”
“So, it’s our fault?” Ken asked.
“Right.” Brad grinned. “They’re planning a fundraising dinner thing here in October. I wanted to make sure he’d reached out to you.”
“I told him I’d come. He reminded me to bring my checkbook.”
