He was like no man I had ever known - a big, shy, gentle man,
who adored children. He was a U.S. Navy Electrician, with powerful
hands, yet to see him brush the dirt off a child's scraped knee
left me breathless at his tenderness. He was younger than I, that
was certain, but I noticed that his eyes had a look about them, as
though he had seen much sorrow. So had I.
I was on the run, from an abusive marriage, taken in by mutual
friends. I was devout, even prudish, but with a "wicked" sense of
humor that could crack him up and make him blush to the roots of
his hair. I found that irresistible.
I was pretty sure that I was in trouble, when my nine year old
daughter, Jenny, cornered me and asked if I would "marry again."
That filled me with panic.
"Oh my, Jenny! I'd like to not think about that for about a hundred
years!"
"O.K., Mommy." Jenny replied, giving me a level look. "...But, if
you ever do, I want you to marry someone like, Louie." I was
stunned. Only nine years old, and already planning her
future.
"You know," she continued. "He'd make a great Daddy!"
I could feel myself repelling down the side of a cliff, without a
safety net, but I was charmed by her candor...and even then, I
could feel God beckoning me toward this wonderful man. Of course,
Jenny gave Louie "the speech." What she expected out of a father.
What she would consider as appropriate behavior. Suddenly, my nine
year old was a therapist and matchmaker, right in the middle of the
living room. I expected that Louie would "run for the hills!" But
he stayed on.
He was from Tennessee, and very country. I found him likeable,
sensitive, and charming. He was a gentleman and a gentle man. It
was not in him to take advantage of a woman. He was my friend, with
perfect courtesy, and he was attractively awkward. Altogether
lovely to a woman like me.
From a distance, we fell in love. Not even in his heart would he
bridge that gap of impropriety. I had never met anyone like him
before. We loved the same books. When it came to music, we were
from different planets. I was whimsical, creative, a dreamer. He
was practical, solid, a rock. But we both loved my children, and
against all odds, we fell in love.
Of course it would never last. How could it? He loved motorcycles!
And he owned one! I loved the ballet and opera. The closest I came
to rock and roll was the BeeGees, and the closest he came to ballet
was when he was launched from his motorcycle, making a hard right
turn! We talked away the night every chance we got. I could make
him helpless with laughter, which in turn, delighted my heart! How
could it not work? But the miracle worker and the wisest of us all,
turned out to be six year old Helen.
We were sitting in my car, right outside of Baskin Robbins. She was
licking her Bubble Gum ice-cream cone. I was inhaling my Pistachio
Almond Fudge.
"We need to have a serious talk, Momma." She said. She looked
intently at me, with her sea green eyes.
"I've been thinking. I think it's time that we get married." She
pulled herself up to her full, three-feet, six inches in height, as
she searched my face.
Helen had proposed to Louie, weeks ago. She had ushered him into
her room, sat him down on her bed, and stood in front of him. Her
hand raised, finger pointing for emphasis, she said:
"You know, Louie, I've been looking for a man like you, my whole
life." Stunned, all Louie could do was listen.
"Now, Louie," she began, "all of us girls need you, and I know that
Momma does, too! That is why I'm asking you to marry us!"
Afterwards, when Louie told me about the proposal, I thought...oh
boy, this guy is history!!
"So what did you tell her?" I asked him, not quite
nonchalantly.
"I told Helen, that as soon as we decide that we want to get
married, she would be the first to know." He said, looking at me
with an intense gaze.
Helen thought that Louie looked like Elvis. (I guess he did, sort
of, if you closed one eye and looked at him through the heart of a
child.) She had fallen in love with this big, gentle man...head
over heels. Our romance had blossomed surrounded by a crowd of
little girls...a blonde, a brunette, and a red-head. We had
discussed marriage and there was no doubt that he was crazy about
the girls...and me.
Helen had been the most hurt, when her 'birth father' had abandoned
her. He explained to her that it was "nothing personal." Now, I
wondered if a new marriage would be the best thing for my
daughters, and I knew that Louie wondered if his great love could
erase a lifetime of hurt.
Now, here I was, being lectured in a parking lot by my six year
old.
"You know, Momma, you're not getting any younger" (Where did she
get this stuff?) "Louie loves us, and he WANTS us. I want him to be
my Daddy! My real Daddy!"
Words of reassurance rushed to my tongue, as Helen exclaimed.
"Momma, my birth father doesn't want me!" An exquisite pain shot
through me! Of course he does! I wanted to scream, but I could not
invalidate the truth she spoke, with a lie.
"I think it's time, we got married!" Helen said. "We've been dating
long enough!"
Finally, with tears in my eyes, I said, "Helen, I don't know what's
inside some men's hearts, but I know Louie's heart. He loves you.
He loves all of us, and if there is anyone who can be your "real"
Daddy, he can. And I'm going to tell him 'yes' for all of
us!"
That night we had a celebration dinner...Louie, Helen, Jenny,
Michelle and me. With Kool-Aid glasses held high, we toasted a new
future, a new family, and a new hope: where children are always
treasured, and every Daddy is "real."
Jaye Lewis