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Waiting on the Tides

By Tabitha Bouldin

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Chapter one
Christian Johnson lived every moment of his life with the promise of keeping his daughter from harm. To date, he’d succeeded, even when Emily thought he said no out of sheer meanness and a desire to keep her from having fun. If this was how things went down at the age of five, he was in trouble when she hit thirteen. He knew it and dreaded the upcoming arguments, though he remained resolute.
Their current predicament came from his refusal to allow Emily to pour pancake syrup into her ear.
He’d never known children could make the sort of garbled laughter mixed with a sob that came from his five-year-old daughter. Christian sipped his coffee and slid the plate of waffles toward a snuffling Emily. “Breakfast, Emily.”
She hiccupped and pushed strands of brown hair from tear-streaked cheeks. She looked like her mother. All the way down to the pouty bottom lip and blaze of defiance brewing in chocolate irises. “No school.”
His lips caught on an exhale, ready to blow the frustration from his system. He did not need this today. Like her mother, Emily picked the worst days for a tantrum. Unlike the woman who contributed her DNA to his daughter, Emily did it not out of spite but out of a need to learn. To understand her place in this world where she already felt the effects of abandonment. Thank you, Dr. Phillips. Without the child-rearing books by the famed MD, who knew where Christian might be today.
Pushing the waffles closer, the granite counter cut into his ribs. “Why?”
“Wanna work with you.” Emily picked up the fork and stabbed a piece of waffle. The tines of her fork skipped over the glass plate, the screech shivering up his spine. After shoving a too-big bite into her mouth, she flicked a glance at him.
Sarge, his German shepherd K-9 partner, licked his lips and edged closer to Emily’s chair. Not yet outfitted in gear, the dog considered himself off duty. Which meant bribing Emily out of her breakfast.
His adorable daughter cut another glance his way, one finger sliding a sticky mass of waffle to the edge of the plate. He let it go. Sarge leaned against Emily’s leg, gobbling up the bite as it fell and licking Emily’s fingers clean. “You can’t go to work with me today.”
Her bottom lip puckered.
Christian smoothed the hair from her face and wiped a trail of syrup from her chin. “Not because I don’t want you with me. I have to be a policeman today. It’s hard work, for me and Sarge. And it’ll be boring for you. At school, you get to play with your friends.” He lifted his eyebrows and punched excitement into his voice. “All day.”
“With Becky and Polly and Jim and Tim and Allie?” Emily’s face transformed; all thoughts of dissent evaporated.
They’d had this conversation before, but five-year-old minds filtered information faster than his grandmother’s sieve. Emily remembered what she wanted to remember. The rest got thrown out until moments like this. And things he wished she would forget—like being abandoned by her mother—Emily held onto like a grizzly bear. “Yes, with all your friends.” He relaxed his shoulders. Another battle won. How many more to go? Lord, I don’t even want to know. “You don’t want to be late on your first day. Eat up. No more waffles for Sarge. He has work today too.”
The dog whipped in his direction, ears perked and muscles tense. Every line of his body screamed “Work! I love to work” though he sat immobile.
“Not yet, boy. Soon.”
Emily shoveled two pieces of waffle into her mouth and slid from the stool. Her feet landed with a slap on the linoleum. She stumbled a step, arms reaching out to break her fall. Sarge lunged, throwing his body between Emily and the floor. Waffle shot from her mouth with a grunt of expelled air. It landed with a splat that churned Christian’s stomach. Emily patted Sarge’s midsection. “Thanks, boy.”
The German shepherd nuzzled her cheek before wheeling and planting himself by Christian’s side. He locked his gaze on Christian, waiting for a command. The dog wanted to work. His drive rivaled dogs half his age and was the reason Mel and Trent found him a home with the department.
“Okay.” He motioned for Sarge to lie down, and the dog dropped to his belly, head up and ears alert. “Emily, grab your bag and put on your shoes.”
She hurried away, sing-songing a tune from one of her favorite TV shows.
Gathering his utility belt, Sarge’s vest, and the stack of forms he needed to return to the co-op where Emily would spend her school days, he dashed outside to stow the gear in his SUV before Emily returned from her room.
“Daddy, can we get a kitty?” Emily’s question assaulted him from the front door.
He jerked upright, banging his head on the car’s metal door frame. That’s all he needed, another responsibility on his overloaded plate. “We’ll talk about it later.” A flat-out denial put him at risk of enduring waterworks all the way from his house on the southern point of Breaker’s Head where the co-op nestled in a perfect slice of island heaven. Miles of crying and pleading. Nope. Diversion. “Did you remember Fluffy?” The bedraggled stuffed dog had been a gift from Cooper the day Emily was born. She never went anywhere without Fluffy.
“Yes.” She scrambled into the SUV, using the runner he’d installed once her independence demanded he not lift her into the vehicle and her adamant claims that “I not need hep!” began. Ponytail askew, she plopped into her car seat and suffered through the process of him snapping the harness over her shoulders and clicking the locks into place. “Don’t forget Sarge.”
“I won’t.” And now his daughter was reminding him of his own duty, as though he’d been the wayward one. Leaving the car door open, he jogged to his front door, whistled for Sarge, and pointed at the car when the dog emerged from the three-bedroom house with his tongue hanging out. “Ride.” Christian ordered after locking the door.
Sarge launched toward the vehicle and leaped into the back, where he curled up, head on paws.
Once in the SUV with the radio and air-conditioning running, he risked a glance at the dashboard clock and groaned. They were late.
“What’s wrong, Daddy?” Emily kicked his seat, her sneaker-clad toes seemingly able to punch straight through layers of cushion to land straight on his spine.
Once again, he’d forgotten to move her seat to the other side. But he liked being able to glance in the rearview mirror and see her there. “Nothing’s wrong.” No need to worry her about things like schedules and clocks…or promotions. Not that he’d get the police captain’s job. Not when so many others with more seniority worked on the force. But someday. For now, he’d appreciate being the youngest lieutenant in the history of the Independence Islands. He’d worked hard for the distinction, and lost much in the gaining of a title.
Another jab of toes into his spinal column. “I’m hungry.”
“You just ate.”
“Sarge made me lose my last bite. That was the bite I needed to be full.”
“Oookay.” He’d not needed a reminder of the mess on his kitchen floor. Or the dishes he’d left…again. “I’m sure Miss Williams can find you something.”
Kick. Kick. Kick.
Christian gripped the steering wheel. Breaker’s scenery flashed by. He ignored it. The stretches of beach and pretty houses all neat and tidy, unlike his own with dirty laundry piled in heaps and a daughter he obviously couldn’t even feed properly. He couldn’t wait for that conversation. Yes, Miss Williams, do you have any food for my daughter? The pitying looks would start again. Then the offers to help.
His neck burned.
A glance in the mirror showed Emily with her thumb tucked securely in her mouth. Something she’d stopped last year. Seeing him looking, she jerked the digit out with a pop and dried it on her pink unicorn shirt.
He fought the urge to remind her of all the reasons not to suck her thumb, but they’d arrived at Miss Williams’ house, and he’d reached his limit of battles for one morning.
Emily strained against the buckles. “Allie! I see Allie. Go play, Daddy.”
“Hold your horses. Let me at least get out of the car.” He chuckled at her exuberance. To be that young again. As though to solidify his adulthood, his left knee popped when he swung out of the SUV, sending a lance of pain up his leg.
Both feet kicking his empty seat, Emily wiggled, reminding him of an excited puppy. Her ponytail gave up, the band sliding down to her neck. Hair framing her wide eyes, she clutched at his neck and pressed a wet kiss to his cheek as he lowered her to the ground. “Love you.” She struggled into the backpack, one strap twisting over her shoulder. “See you at three.” Holding up three fingers, she leaned toward him.
“Love you bunches.” He knelt, ignoring the pain slicing through his knee, and squeezed Emily tight.
First day of kindergarten. Real school, as she called it, though classes took place not in a brick building filled with teachers and the stench of cleaners but in the modest home of the co-op teachers. He should have taken a picture, immortalizing the moment. Another tally mark on the already crowded chalkboard of parental failure.
Miss Williams, a thirty-something woman with black hair and an easy smile, gathered children around her in a flock of bright colors and ceaseless chatter.
Emily released his neck and patted his cheeks. Her chin wobbled. She patted him again. “Bye, Daddy.”
“See you later. Have a great day.” He pushed off the gravel as she walked away.
How was he supposed to do this every day?
A hand tapped his shoulder. “First day?” The woman standing behind him didn’t wait for a reply but juggled the baby on her hip and pointed out a tow-headed little boy offering Emily a smile. “That’s my boy, Lee. His older brother was my first. I remember it like it was yesterday.” The baby whined and wiped slobber down her neck, which she either didn’t notice or ignored. “It gets easier. By next month, you won’t even have to leave the car. She’ll bounce right out, ready to take on the world.”
That’s what he was afraid of. Emily would be ready…but what about him?

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