Chapter 33.

Callie

I checked my phone again. Our father was now twenty-five minutes late.

"He could've gotten stuck in traffic," Lena said calmly, glancing over at me. "I'm sure he'll be here any minute."

The phone rang. "I'll get it," Stef said, hurrying into the kitchen.

Lena pushed a plate of homemade cookies toward Sophia. "Have a snack, honey. Just in case we have to wait a little longer."

Sophia shook her head. "No thanks. I'm not hungry." She turned to me. "Does my hair still look good?"

"Yeah," I nodded, managing a smile, even though my doubts about my father's visit were growing. "It looks great, Soph."

I hear Stef hang up the phone, and she came back into the living room. Her face was drawn, and she didn't even have to speak for me to know that something was wrong. She cleared her throat, then came over to us. "Callie, Sophia," she said, hesitantly. "That was Bill on the phone."

"He's not coming, is he?" Sophia asked. Her voice was squeaky, the way it always was when she was going to cry.

Stef sighed deeply, and I could see the pain in her eyes as she struggled to face my little sister, her daughter. "I'm so sorry, lovey," she said. "I don't know what to tell you. He can't make it today."

A lump rose in my throat. I forced myself to swallow, and reached for Sophia's hand, but she pulled it away. "You don't have to say 'I told you so,'" she said. Her face crumpled, and she burst into tears. She hopped up and raced toward the stairs.

"Sophia!" I called after her. "Wait!" I started to stand up, but Stef sat down beside me and put her arm around my shoulder.

"Let her go, honey," she she said softly. "She's hurting righting now."

"I wasn't going to say 'I told you so,'" I said. "I would never say that to her."

"I know, baby," Stef said, soothingly. "I know. And I think Sophia knows that too. Sometimes, when you're angry, you take it out on the people you love most." She pulled me close to her chest and kissed the side of my head. "And how are you, love? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I said. "I don't care if I ever see him again. I'm just worried about Sophia." I slipped out from Stef's arm. "I have to go talk to her." Before my moms could protest, I hurried to our room.

"Soph?" I said, opening the door. "It's me, baby."

Sophia was sitting by the window, crying. She'd taken her cute french braids down, and her hair hung in tangled strings, stiff from the hair gel. My heart hurt as I quietly went to sit down beside her; seeing her cry always made me want to cry. "Soph?"

"Go away," she said. "I don't want to talk to you!"

"Hey," I said softly. "Don't be like that." I place my hand on her back, and she pulled away again. Tear stung my eyes. "Sophia, why are you mad at me?"

She sniffled, still refusing to look at me. "Because you were right, okay!"

I leaned down and rested my cheek against her shoulder. "I didn't want to be right," I whispered. "I wanted this day for you, Sophie Bug. I really did."

"Then why did you keep telling me not to get my hopes up?" she asked. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.

"I was just trying to protect you," I told her. "He let me down a lot when I was little. I was afraid he'd hurt you." I sighed, listening to her breath." "And, maybe, I didn't want myself to get hurt either."

Finally, after a long pause, she turned to glance at me. "Really?"

Nodding, I picked up a discarded hair tie and pulled her matted hair into a messy ponytail, so it would be out of her face.

"You wanted to see him too?" she asked.

"A little," I admitted. "Yeah."

"Then why did you act like you didn't want to?" she said.

I shrugged. "I guess I thought, if I pretended like I didn't want to see him, I wouldn't feel so bad if he didn't show up. And I kind of felt like if I wanted to see him again, I'd be disloyal to moms somehow." I felt a tear slip down my face. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Soph. I'm so sorry."

She looked down into her lap. "Why didn't he come, Callie?"

"I don't know," I replied. It was hard, not having the right answers for her. I wrapped her in my arms and kissed her sticky, tear-stained cheek. My spirits lifted, just a little, when she hugged me back. "I love you, baby. Don't ever forget that."

"I won't," she said. "I love you too, Sissy. But can I be alone now? I just want to think for a while."

"Sure," I said. I turned, and left the room.

I held my fist to my father's door, willing myself to knock. But it was like my hand was paralyzed; it wasn't getting the signals my brain was sending. And in my chest, I felt a panic attack rising. I knew I would be in a lot of trouble with moms if they knew I was there, late in the day, in a bad part of town, on a street I didn't know. And even worse, that I'd gone through their private papers to find my dad's address in the first place.

But I'd gone through all this trouble, sneaking out and taking the bus to his apartment building. I had to confront him.

My hand was shaking. I closed my eyes tight. My blood pounded in my ears. Finally, I took a deep breath, and forced myself to knock, half-hoping he wasn't home. But within a few seconds, I hears footsteps coming from inside. The door swung open, and there he was.

We stared at each other for a long moment, until he spoke up. "Callie," he breathed. "You look just like your mother."

"Can I come in?" I asked.

"Of course," he said, stepping aside.

His apartment was small and shabby. In the lamplight, the first thing I noticed was how old he looked. He'd aged so much since I last saw him; more than he should've in six years. It made me feel a little sad. But his eyes were still the same ice blue I remembered.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm good. But thanks." I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, awkwardly. Might as well get right to the point. "Why didn't you come today?" I asked. I'd been mad at him when I'd set out to confront him; all the way to his apartment, as I sat on the bus, I'd planned what I was going to say. But now that I was there, speaking to him in person, my anger drained. I felt like a little kid again, and he was just my dad.

He ran his fingers through his thinning, silvery hair, and sighed. "I was planning to come, Cal. I really was. And I don't have a good excuse."

"You weren't drunk, were you?" I asked. My voice came out shaky.

"No," he said. "No. I haven't had a drink since-" his weathered face fell. "Since the accident."

"Then why?" I demanded.

"I just lost my nerve," he told me. "I was just about to head out, and I got to thinking, maybe you wouldn't want to see me. Maybe you were better off without me."

"Well, you really hurt Sophia," I said. "She was really looking forward to seeing you."

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I'll make it up to you. To both of you." He sat down in a sagging armchair. "Are you girls okay? Do the people you're living with treat you right?"

I sat down on the matching couch that faced him. "We love the Fosters," I told him. "They're amazing."

"That's good," he nodded, relieved. "I'm glad."

I picked at my nails nervously. "Has- has Bill told you anything about our lives since you left?"

"No," he frowned. "Why?"

"It's just been hard," I said, picking at my jeans. "This is our seventh foster home. A little bit before we came to the Fosters, we were staying with this guy, Brian." I felt my chin tremble. "He beat and molested us. He would've killed us if Sophia hadn't shot and killed him first."

My dad's eyes widened. "What? I don't understand."

"She killed him," I repeated.

"I heard you. It's just hard to believe," he said. "Sophia was always such a good little girl."

"She still is," I told him. "She did it because he was hurting us. It was self-defense." I touched my fingers to my nose, rubbing the tip.

My dad laughed a little, watching me. "You looked just like you did when you were little right now."

"Huh?"

"When you were little," he said. He smiled, bringing out the crinkles around his eyes. "You used to suck your thumb and rub your nose to sooth yourself. Your mom and I thought we broke you from that habit."

I dropped my hand. "I guess I don't realize I'm doing it most of the time." I cleared my throat nervously. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he said. "Anything."

"Why did you stop answering my letters? And how come you never came for us? We know you've been out for a year now."

He shook his head sadly. "I guess, maybe I was a little depressed in there. Whenever I got one of your letters, I was almost afraid to open it, wondering if it would be the one where you'd accuse me of murdering your mother. I wasn't sure if I could handle that."

I swallowed hard. His answer made me uncomfortable, because it sounded so much like the way I thought. He felt like he had to hurt me before I could hurt him, a pattern I'd repeated so many times in my life with people I cared about.

"I have been out for a year," he went on. "That's true. But I never forgot about you girls, Callie, I promise. I thought about you every day. I've been trying to get my life back together for you two. It takes a long time. It's not easy, finding a good job and a decent place to live with my record. But I'm here for you now. And you can take that to the bank."

"Please, just promise me one thing," I said.

"What?" he asked. "Anything."

"I want you to come over on Sunday. Please, don't let Sophia down again."

He nodded. "I don't, honey. I'll be there. You have my word."

Lena

"Poor baby," I sighed, watching Sophia out the kitchen window. "I hate to see her like that." She sat alone on the backyard tree swing, not even swinging, just sitting there, her head hanging down. "I can't believe her father didn't show up."

Next to me, Stef rinsed a dish and passed it to me to dry. "From what Callie's said, I don't know that I'm too surprised. The man doesn't have a great track record."

"It's getting cool out," I said. "I think she should come inside now." I set the dish towel down and slipped out the back door.

"Can I give you a push?" I asked.

Sophia turned her head to look at me. "No thanks."

"Are you sure, sweetheart?" I said. "It's been so long since I've pushed one of my kids on a swing. I'd kind of like to do it again, for old times' sake."

She shrugged. "Well, okay."

I smiled, and took the ropes in my hands. "Hold on tight." I backed up, pulling the swing with me, and let her go, giving her a push.

"I remember when Mike put this swing up for the kids," I told her, pushing her into the air again. "Brandon was eight, and the twins were seven. They were so excited, until it hit them that there was only one swing to share. I think they spent more time fighting over it than playing on it," I laughed.

"My dad never built us a swing," Sophia said, wistfully.

"But I'm sure he did other things to show his love," I said. It was starting to turn to dusk, and I saw fireflies flicker across the yard.

"Sometimes he'd bring candy home for us," she replied, as the swing returned for me to push again. "Sour gummy worms."

"That was very nice of him," I smiled.

"I want to get off now," Sophia said, stopping herself with her feet.

"Sweetheart," I said, kneeling down in front of the swing, so we were eye-level. "I know you're disappointed that your dad didn't come today. But it doesn't mean he's never going to come. So don't give up hope yet, okay?"

"I'll try not to," she promised.

I reached out to hug her. She was wearing a sleeveless dress, and her arms were ice cold. "You know what always makes me feel better when I'm sad?"

"What?" she asked.

"A nice, warm, bubble bath," I told her. "Why don't you take one, get into your PJs, and then you and I can have some cuddle time before bed. Okay?"

"Okay," she said, with a genuine smile. "Mama?"

"What?"

"Callie said that she felt like if she wanted to see Daddy, it would be like being disloyal to you and mom."

I pulled my daughter back into my arms and kissed her. "Sophia," I said. "Callie doesn't have to feel that way, and neither do you. We're not hurt or angry that you still love your father. There's enough love for everyone. So, I don't want you to worry about that, honey."

She nodded. "I love you, Mama."

"I love you too, baby doll," I said, giving her another kiss. "Now, let's get you inside." I reached out my hand. She took it, and we walked back to the house together.

To Be Continued