Ten Years Later.... Marie Ferrarella

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       Chapter Two

      “You look pretty, Mama.”

      Brianna turned from the full-length mirror in her bedroom and glanced at the slightly prejudiced short person who had just uttered those flattering words. Sweet though it was, it wasn’t the compliment that had warmed her heart; it was what the little girl had called her.

       Mama.

      She wondered if she would ever get used to hearing that particular word addressed to her.

      Certainly she knew that she’d never take it for granted, especially since, biologically speaking, she wasn’t Carrie’s mother.

      But there was no denying that presently she was the four-year-old’s only family. She and her father, who, mercifully, had taken to the role of grandfather like the proverbial duck to water. He liked nothing better than doting on the curly-haired small girl and, in effect, being her partner in crime. Not only was Carrie precocious and the personification of energy, she also possessed a very active imagination.

      “Least I can do after all you’ve done for me, Bree,” he’d told her when she’d commented on the unusual dynamics their family had taken on.

      “You are my dad,” she reminded him, dismissing the need for any gratitude or words of thanks. “What was I supposed to do, just walk away and leave you to fend for yourself?”

      He’d smiled at her. Brianna had never been one to take credit for anything. “A lot of other kids would have,” he’d pointed out. “And not many would have postponed their education—and their life,” he emphasized, recalling everything that had been involved that terrible summer when she’d stayed behind to nurse him after his horrific car accident.

      An accident that his doctors insisted would leave him totally paralyzed, if not a comatose vegetable. Brianna had been his one-woman cheering section, refusing to allow him to wallow in self-pity or give in to the almost crippling pain. Instead, she’d worked him like a heartless straw boss. He gave up every day, but not Brianna.

      She’d kept insisting that he was going to walk away from his wheelchair no matter what his doctors said to the contrary. She took nursing courses and physical therapy courses, all with a single focus in mind: to get him to walk again.

      And during whatever downtime she had, between working with him and studying, she’d pitched in to help run his hardware store, working with his partner, J.T., whenever the latter needed to have some slack picked up.

      By Jim MacKenzie’s accounting, his daughter hadn’t slept for more than a couple of hours a night for close to three years. The day he’d taken those first shaky steps away from his wheelchair, he remembered that she’d looked at him with tears in her eyes, a radiant smile on her lips, and declared, “Looks like I can go to bed now.”

      Brianna now looked at the little girl who was sitting on her bed, waving her feet back and forth as if channeling out her energy to the world at large.

      “Thank you, baby,” Brianna said to the child she’d come to love as her own.

      “She doesn’t look pretty, Carrie,” Jim informed the little girl as he left his post in the doorway and walked into the room to join the two women in his life. “She looks beautiful.”

      Brianna’s eyes met her father’s. A knowing smile curved her lips. “I’m onto you, you know. You’re just saying that because you want me to go to this silly reunion.”

      In his own way, her father was as stubborn as she was. He didn’t believe in giving an inch. “I’m just saying it because it’s true—and because I want you to go out and have a good time.”

      He was up to something and she knew it. “Then let’s go to the movies,” she suggested. “The three of us. My treat,” she added to sweeten the pot.

      “Number one—” he ticked off on his fingers “—the movies aren’t going anywhere—they’ll always be there. Number two, even if I said yes to going, I don’t need you paying for my ticket. I’m the dad. I get to take the two of you out.”

      Brianna seized the moment. “Great—let’s go.”

      His eyes told her he wasn’t about to budge from his position. “But not tonight,” he continued, remaining firm. “Go, catch up with your friends,” he coaxed, then predicted, “It’ll be fun.”

      Brianna sighed and shook her head, her light auburn hair swirling about her face like a pale red cloud. “Spoken like a man who has never had to attend any of his high school reunions.”

      Carrie puckered her small face, a sure sign that she was trying to absorb the conversation around her. Given a choice, the little girl always preferred the company of adults to that of children her own age. She knew that adults occasionally even forgot that she was there, but she didn’t mind. She was content just to sit there, listening to them talk.

      She was truly a sponge. Soaking up everything, her curiosity constantly being aroused.

      “What’s a higher reunion?” she asked, looking from her grandfather to the woman she thought of as her mother.

      “High school reunion,” Brianna corrected. “That’s when a bunch of people who used to go to the same classes together hold a party every few years so that they can pretend to be successful, making people jealous of them while they’re checking who got fat and who lost their hair.”

      Carrie was quiet for a moment, then observed, “Doesn’t sound like much fun.”

      Her point eloquently stated, Brianna looked at her father as she gestured toward Carrie. “Out of the mouths of babes.”

      Carrie’s lower lip stuck out just a shade as she protested, “I’m not a baby.”

      “Maybe not,” Brianna allowed, giving the girl a quick hug, “but you’re my baby.”

      “And you’re mine,” Jim informed her firmly, but with the same underlying note of love. “Now, shake a leg and get to this thing before it’s over.”

      Brianna grinned, pretending to weigh the thought. “Now, there’s an idea. If I take my time getting ready and move really slowly, this lame reunion will be over by the time I get there.”

      “I hereby declare you ready,” Jim announced, taking her by the hand and drawing her to the stairs. Carrie was quick to grab her other hand and follow suit, her blue eyes dancing. “I’m all set to babysit and you look fantastic. You have no excuse,” Jim concluded, his words firmly declaring that the discussion—or argument—was officially over.

      Giving in, Brianna allowed herself to be led down the stairs. Once on the ground floor, she raised her hands in semisurrender. She gave her father her compromise.

      “I’ll go—but I’ll be home early,” she told him.

      He wasn’t through bargaining. “You’ll be home late and like it,” he countered. Putting his wide, hamlike hands to her back, he aimed her at the front door and gave her a little push. “Now go.”

      This time, it was an order.

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