Chapter 2 - Game over

Amelia’s POV

I was a toddler when Mommy told me we were going on an adventure, and Daddy would come to find us later.  The only thing I remember from that night; I screamed for my Daddy; he would always come and fight the scary monsters in my dreams away so I could fall back to sleep.  

I wipe the tears from my eyes as I look down at my mom. It’s been 15 years, and we only have each other. She thinks I’m strong and independent as she is, but I know better, I’m still a broken little girl deep inside, still waiting for her Daddy to find her.  The doctor’s voice finally reaching my ears, “her surgery went well, it’s all a waiting game now, we’ll know more when she wakes up.”

I nodded as I stared at her sleeping form, her head wrapped in bandages, her right arm and leg clad in casts and monitors with all types of reading on them.  Her body had been brutalized when the bus hit her, how she survived it is a miracle, “when will she wake up.”

He shook his head, “that’s up to her and how fast she heals, but she’s strong, I’ll check in on her later,” I didn’t watch him walk out and just stared at her.

I sighed, as I held her hand gently, looking at the needle secured to it, “Momma, you need to wake up, you don’t want him to find you, not like this,” I whispered.  I still want to hold on to the hope that he hasn’t forgotten us, that he does love and miss us, that he’s still looking. I kissed her gently on her forehead, “I’ll see you after work, don’t run away on me, stay put.” 

I walked out of the hospital and tried not to fall on the slippery sidewalks covered in thin ice as I walked the 3 miles to the café.  Pulling off my coat and boots, I pulled out my flat shoes and smiled up at Josephine, “morning, it’s horrible out there, think we’ll get any customers in this shit.”

She smiled, “I hope so, how’s she doing today?”

I shook my head, “same as yesterday, no improvements whatsoever, but I keep hoping.”

She arched her brow, “and the lawsuit any news?”

I finished the set up for fresh coffee, “getting close, I’m praying it will cover the medical costs, or I’ll be working the rest of my life and dying in debt to that hospital,” I smirked.

I took a cleaning rag and walked to the door, flipping the sign to open and began to wipe down the tables when the door opened, and the sound of the chimes rang out.  I lifted my head, looking towards the door, a tall man in a dark raincoat and hat stood there motionless, his dark blue eyes staring directly at me.  He moved in my direction and as my heart hammered in my chest, it stopped as he removed his coat and sat in a booth, picking up a menu and not sparing me another glance.  I sighed heavily and scolded myself, “it’s not him, it never is.”

I took a deep cleansing breath and pulled out my ticket book and approached, “hi, coffee this morning to warm you up?”

He smiled as he looked at me, “that sounds really good, it’s cold out there today, nasty weather really no one should be out in this, don’t you agree?”

I chuckled, “I do, but then here we are, I’ll be right back with that coffee and take your order.”

I placed his coffee in front of him as he typed on his phone, he held it in his hand as he ordered, he was well dressed in a business suit and his mannerisms were well above our little café.  I placed his breakfast order in front of him and refilled his coffee, “anything else you need,” I smiled.

He looked up at me, his phone in his hand, “your name would be nice, you’re not wearing a name tag.” 

“Trixie, I’ll be right behind the counter if you need anything before I come back to check on you,” I nodded and walked away as a familiar feeling ran through me, I turned to look at him again, but there was nothing that stood out.

A chill ran down my spine as I entered the hospital, it happens sometimes when the heat hits you and you’re a human popsicle from the cold.  I entered the elevator only to see the man from the café earlier, his dark blue eyes staring at me as he asked the security at the desk for “Catalina Caswell’s room number.”

I entered my mom’s room and sat, staring at the door waiting, he used her real name, not the one on all her identification.  Maybe I’m over thinking this, or maybe the bus company found out she’d changed her name trying to get out of compensation for hitting her.

I fell off to sleep as I held her hand, I woke up screaming, “Daddy, Daddy!” as if I was a small child and clamped my mouth shut, wiping the tears from my eyes as I lifted my head towards my mom, “I’m so stupid,” I whispered in the silent room, “he doesn’t care or he’d of found us by now,” I sobbed like I’ve done a million times, my hands covering my face, “we just weren’t good enough to hold his love,” I whimpered.

I jumped at the sound of a deep baritone voice coming from my side, “you’re my world and I’ve missed you for too long now my sunshine, you and your Mommy.”

I stared at the man kneeling on the floor next to my chair, his eyes were the color of my own and glistening with tears.  His smile was familiar and warm and the urge to just wrap myself around him was overwhelming.  I wiped at the snot that was dripping from my nose with the back of my hand, and he chuckled, “you still don’t use a tissue, that’s how you got pink eye, do you remember that."

“Do I know you?” I asked because I need to know if I’m looking at who I think I am.

His smile bent downward, and he sighed, “it’s been too long, too many years have been stolen from me,” he looked at my mother’s sleeping form, “too many years wasted over something that wasn’t real,” he looked back at me.  He gave me a small smile, “you use to call me Daddy,” he cupped my face, “I’ll still answer to that…”

I didn’t allow him to finish his sentence before my arms flew around his neck and fell onto his lap, my tears flowed, “you found us, oh Daddy.”