This Holiday Magic. Celeste O. Norfleet
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these downstairs.” She nodded and followed, and then she stopped when movement in the bed caught her eye. He set the bags down, then walked over to lean down at the side of the bed. Janelle watched his movements. That was when she saw the tiny figure snuggled beneath the covers, holding tight to the bride doll Janelle had brought back from Africa. She walked over and stood near.
“Daddy...” The little girl moaned softly and reached out to him.
“Shh, I’m here. Go back to sleep,” he whispered, giving her a hug and a kiss on her forehead.
After tucking the covers over the child, Tyson straightened and smiled. Janelle instantly saw the unconditional love he had for his daughter in his eyes. It was heartwarming to see.
“That’s not her doll,” Tyson said, turning to Janelle.
“No, it’s not. It’s mine.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“It’s a handcrafted Ndebele bride doll. A friend of mine gave it to me before I left. It represents a bride on her wedding day. It’s supposed to be a blessing for a happy, healthy family and future.”
“It looks expensive.”
“I don’t know about that, but it’s sentimental. It was in the side pocket of my luggage. I guess Aneka found it. That would explain why the suitcases were open.”
He sighed heavily while shaking his head. “I’m sorry. She’s in a curious stage right now—she’s into everything.” He reached down to retrieve the doll, but Aneka’s little fingers gripped it tightly as she rolled to the side.
Janelle touched his arm. “No, don’t take it away from her,” she whispered. “I’ll get it another time.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Thank you. I’ll get it back to you. I promise.”
“No problem,” she said softly, then paused. “She is beautiful.”
He smiled proudly. “Yes, she is, and she’s a handful.”
“I bet. How old is she? Four?” Janelle ventured.
“Almost. She’ll be four years old next month. But, to tell you the truth, she’s more like fourteen.”
“Let me guess. Nonstop energy and fiercely independent.”
He nodded continuously. “Oh, yes, and then some. Running, jumping, skipping, dancing... You name it, she does it. Her favorite storybook character right now is Tigger, the tiger from Winnie-the-Pooh. She hops and jumps everywhere. And of course she wears her princess dress and her crown when she does.”
“Of course,” Janelle said, smiling.
“But she’s also kind, generous, creative and wonderfully imaginative. She loves to draw and play make-believe. She insists on choosing her own clothes, even if nothing matches, and she’s a sponge for learning new things. And, admittedly, she has me wrapped around her little finger.”
Janelle smiled. “Daddy’s little girl.”
“Yes, she certainly is,” Tyson said as Aneka stirred.
“She has your heart. That’s how it should be.” Janelle looked closer at the little sleeping angel. Her features were soft and innocent and her skin was honey-toned, far lighter than Tyson’s deep, rich cinnamon complexion. Her hair, a light brown hue, was lightly tinted with reddish-blond highlights. All at once it occurred to her that Aneka bore very little resemblance to Tyson. “She must look like her mother,” she said without thinking.
“Yes, she does,” Tyson replied.
Suddenly, Janelle realized where the conversation might lead. She wasn’t ready to talk about Tyson having another woman in his life. She took a step back. “I’d better go. My dad is probably waiting outside for me.”
“Janelle...” Tyson began, turning to her.
“Daddy,” the little girl muttered again.
Tyson turned back to his daughter.
“Don’t worry about the bags. I’ll pick them up tomorrow. Take care of your daughter.” She turned and walked out.
Seconds later she was opening the front door and stepping outside.
She took a deep breath. A sudden rush of crisp cold December air chilled her lungs. It was a welcome sensation; she needed the intense shock to her senses. Exhaustion and jet lag had apparently gotten the best of her. She’d actually had a civil conversation with Tyson Croft.
She looked up at the full moon and wrapped her hands around her arms and shivered. It seemed a lot colder than it used to be around Christmastime, or maybe she just needed to get used to the seasonal weather again.
The door opened behind her. She didn’t have to look to know it was Tyson.
“Janelle, can we talk?” he asked.
“There’s nothing left for either of us to say,” she said.
“Yes, actually there is. I’m sorry.”
She turned to him. “Is this your attempt at closure?”
“No, it’s a sincere apology for walking away like I did. I know it’s long overdue, but I still need you to know that I’m sorry for what happened between us.”
Janelle looked away without responding. Car lights turned the corner a block away. A few seconds later she recognized her father’s car approaching. “Here comes my dad,” she said, stepping down to the walkway.
“Aneka’s mother—”
“Look, it’s your life. It’s none of my business. I really don’t need to know this,” she quickly interrupted.
“Yes, you do. Aneka’s mother died two and a half years ago in a car accident.”
Janelle paused and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for your loss and I’m sorry for Aneka. It’s difficult growing up without a mother,” she said, knowing from her own past experience.
“Her father is— Her father was my cousin, Girard. He survived the accident, but died a few months later from his injuries. Aneka is my goddaughter and as of two and a half years ago, I’m her legal guardian.”
Janelle looked at him, speechless. This wasn’t what she’d expected to hear. “I’m sorry. I know you and he were very close.”
“We were, and now his daughter is my daughter.”
Neither spoke for a few minutes.
Janelle sighed heavily. “I was surprised to see you here. You’re the last person I ever expected to see again.”
“Yeah, I’m full of surprises these days.”
She looked at him sternly. “Nothing’s changed. Just because my father seems to need you doesn’t mean I do or ever will again.”
He nodded. “I deserve that.”
“Yes, you do. And stop being so damn understanding. You were never that way before.”
“Really? What was I like?”
“Ruthless,” she said.
“Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “I guess I was.”
She grimaced at him. “Wow. Enlightenment. So, what did you do, climb a mountain or chat with a shaman or something?”
He smiled. “Or something.”
“What do you want from me, Tyson? A reprieve? Absolution? My blessing to move on with your life? What?”
“Right now I’ll settle for a cease-fire.” He extended his hand.
She looked