Lorraine had begun asking the children about their favorite things.
She wanted to know what they enjoyed doing.
She asked which foods they liked.
She asked whether they preferred staying inside or playing outdoors.
The questions were simple.
The children answered with the enthusiasm only eight-year-olds could manage.
Mason spoke first most of the time.
Wyatt often corrected him.
Delilah had a habit of adding details nobody had asked for.
Savannah listened carefully before answering.
I watched Lorraine smile.
She seemed fascinated by every little thing they said.
"Do you all have birthdays together?"
Mason nodded.
"Yes."
Lorraine looked at me.
"All four?"
"Yes."
She pressed her hand against her chest.
"Four babies at once."
I smiled.
"That's right."
She looked at the children again.
"I can't believe how much I've missed."
Nobody answered.
I didn't know what to say.
There was no sentence that could give her those years back.
But I could see that she was trying to focus on the children instead of the past.
That was probably the best thing she could do.
Terrence sat a short distance away.
He watched the conversation.
Every so often, one of the children would say something that made him smile.
Then the smile would disappear.
I wondered what he was thinking.
Perhaps he was imagining what it would have been like to raise them.
Perhaps he was thinking about the years when they were too young to remember him.
Perhaps he was finally understanding that fatherhood was not something he could simply claim because the truth had become impossible to ignore.
He had missed the ordinary parts.
And those were the parts that mattered most.
Lorraine turned toward Mason.
"Do you know what your father was like when he was little?"
Mason looked at me.
Then he looked at Lorraine.
"No."
Lorraine smiled.
"He was very stubborn."
I couldn't help noticing the resemblance.
I looked at Mason.
Then at Terrence.
There it was again.
The same expression.
The same set of the jaw.
The same way of looking determined when someone told him something he wasn't sure he believed.
I almost laughed.
Lorraine noticed.
"What is it?"
I shook my head.
"Nothing."
But she understood.
She looked at Terrence.
Then at Mason.
"Yes," she said softly. "I can see it."
The children continued talking.
I sat beside them.
For a moment, I allowed myself to enjoy the ordinary feeling of being surrounded by family.
Not the family I had imagined eight years earlier.
The one I actually had.
Terrence eventually approached the children again.
He stopped near Mason.
"Would you like to know what I was like when I was your age?"
Mason considered it.
"Okay."
Terrence smiled.
He began telling him a simple story about being a boy.
I listened without interrupting.
It was strange hearing him speak to our son.
Not because I thought it was wrong.
Because I had once imagined this exact scene.
Years ago, I had pictured Terrence sitting with a child and telling him about his childhood.
I had imagined them laughing together.
I had imagined the ordinary conversations that happen between fathers and sons.
Now it was happening eight years later.
And the child listening to him had already grown into someone with his own memories, opinions, and personality.
Terrence looked toward Wyatt.
"And what about you?"
Wyatt moved closer.
"Can you tell me another story?"
Terrence nodded.
I watched him.
For the first time that morning, he seemed less concerned about what the adults thought of him.
He was trying to speak to the children.
It was a small beginning.
But I knew better than to mistake a beginning for a repaired relationship.
A father could not make up eight years simply by telling a story.
Trust would take time.
Familiarity would take time.
And the children would need to decide what place he could have in their lives.
I wasn't going to make that decision for them.
Lorraine moved beside me.
"Thank you for bringing them."
I looked at her.
"They deserved to meet you."
She nodded.
Then she squeezed my hand.
I could see the tears returning.
"I wish things had happened differently."
I looked toward the children.
"So do I."
And I meant it.
Not because I wanted my old marriage back.
Because I wished the children could have had the chance to know their father from the beginning.
That opportunity had been lost.
But perhaps something could still grow from the truth.
I wasn't ready to promise anything.
I was simply willing to let the children have their moment with their grandmother.
Click here to continue reading: PART 12: When Terrence Finally Looked at All Four Children Together, He Began to Understand That No Apology Could Return Their Missing Years
Eight Years After He Abandoned Me, My Ex-Husband Sent an Invitation That Revealed Exactly What He Still Thought of Me
Part 11 of 20
