CHAPTER SEVEN
McKenna didn't believe what she was hearing, didn't believe what Loki was saying. She shook her head. "No. That can't be right. I haven't seen him since I was eight years old."
"Well, he says he's your father, McKenna."
"How did he find me?"
"Probably the title to the house. Your name is on it."
She scowled at him. "I have to explain the simplest expressions to you, and yet you know all about public records?"
"Do not be angry with me, McKenna." He folded his arms over his chest. "I'm only the messenger."
"I know." She ran a hand through her hair. How was it possible that after nearly thirty years, her father could just simply turn up on their doorstep and think she would want to see him? Her only memories of him were faint and fuzzy at best, and she wasn't even certain they were her memories or if they were the product of something her mother once told her.
"What did you tell him?" she asked, looking up at him.
"I told him to wait a moment and I'd ask you if you wanted to see him." He crouched before her, taking her hand in his. "I understand if you want me to send him on his way. Just say the word."
She hesitated. He certainly would be the one to understand. Would understand her being torn between wanting to see her father and wanting to tell him to go to hell. And if she said the word, Loki would make damn certain her father never showed his face around their house again.
"So, he's just standing on our front porch?"
"More or less."
She glanced over at the twins, dozing in their bouncy chairs, warm and cozy in a soft sunbeam. Then she looked down at Loki, still crouched before her, and nodded. "I'll see him."
He straightened, pulling her up with him. "Do you wish me to stay with you?"
"Please."
"Of course."
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she crossed the living room toward the front door. Her hand tightened about Loki's of its own, and he squeezed back gently, his thumb brushing along hers. "Easy, love. I'm right here."
Her mouth went dry, her hand hovering above the door handle. She took a deep breath and tugged open the door to find herself face to face with the man she hadn't seen since her eighth birthday.
The memory nearly knocked her off her feet as it slammed into her like a tsunami. It was something she'd completely forgotten about.
Until now.
"Thank you for the Barbies, Daddy. And for the Ken doll. But I'm going to call him John because I don't like the name Ken."
"You're welcome, munchkin." Daddy lifted her up, like he always did, and she draped her arms about his neck. He'd nicked himself shaving that morning. She could see the dried blood just under his chin. As always, he smelled of tobacco and Brut cologne, which he always wore. Usually, she loved the scent of it. It reminded her of whenever she was sick and he'd sit on her bed, reading her story after story until she fell asleep. Or of him running alongside her, shouting encouragement in her ear as she struggled to learn to ride her two-wheeler.
But now, there was something different. He looked sad. His eyes, blue with hints of gray around his pupils, were reddish. "What's the matter, Daddy?"
"There's something we need to talk about, munchkin." As he talked, he carried her over to the avocado green velour sofa. One cushion had a huge stain on it, where she'd thrown up on it and Mommy tried everything to get rid of it, all to no avail.
"What?"
His eyes grew redder still and he reached up to tweak her braid. Mommy had French braided her hair for her birthday party and by the time everyone left, most of it was still neat. She dreaded taking the braid out, because Mommy only ever braided it for special occasions because she wasn't particularly good at it and it took her forever.
"I'm going to go away for a while," he said, cupping her chin in his hand. "Mommy and I... well... I'm not going to be living here anymore."
"Why? What did I do?"
"Nothing, munchkin. It has nothing to do with you at all. Sometimes, grownups just can't live with each other any longer, so I'm going to move out and live somewhere else." He gave her chin a gentle shake. "But, I'll be here every weekend and we'll do all kinds of fun stuff together, okay? And you'll get to have two Christmases and two birthdays, which makes you a really lucky little girl."
Her throat ached and her eyes stung, but she nodded. "Okay. You promise?"
"I promise. You won't even notice I'm not here."
Aislinn Carlin O'Neill moved into the doorway. "Did you tell her, James?"
He nodded. "I did. And she understands right, munchkin?"
She didn't, but she nodded. "Right, Daddy."
His eyes glimmered but he smiled. "That's my girl."He kissed her on the forehead and stood up. "Happy Birthday, munchkin. I love you."
"I love you, too, Daddy."
McKenna didn't remember what happened after that, except that she overheard her mother and father discussing something in low voices in the kitchen. What they discussed, she didn't know, but a short while later, her father left with a small suitcase and that was the last time she saw him.
Until now.
The man she remembered had a full head of thick, wavy blond hair, and shoulders broad enough to give her shoulder rides until he left. This man resembled him-the same gray-blue eyes, the same crooked nose (her mother told her he'd broken it in a fight as a teenager,)-but the thick blond hair was gone now, replaced by a shiny bald dome. And wire-rimmed glasses threw off the morning sunlight.
But other than that, she recognized him. She would know him anywhere.
"Hello, McKenna."
Without thinking, she tightened her grip on Loki's hand and nodded. "Hello... James..."
His smile wavered, but remained on his face. "I didn't think you would still call me Daddy."
"Good. Because I won't."
He nodded. "I've met your husband here, although we haven't been introduced."
McKenna swallowed hard, glancing up at Loki. "Loki, this is James O'Neill. James, this is my husband, Loki Odinson."
"It's nice to meet you, Loki." James held out a hand.
Loki stared down at it, then looked down at her before saying, "James."
James gave a sheepish laugh and lowered his hand. "Of course."
"What do you want?" McKenna asked, narrowing her eyes at him. "After all this time, why are you here? How did you find me?"
He sighed, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "I Googled you, McKenna. And as to why, because you're my daughter and I wanted to see you."
"Oh, because I'm your daughter. Well, where have you been for the last three decades of my life? Or did you come here thinking you'd find me still playing with the Barbie dolls you gave me, that I was still eight years old?"
His fair cheeks turned red. "No. Of course not. I-I don't know... I was in a doctor's office, flipping through a magazine and all of the sudden I found myself looking at you. And I knew who you were immediately because you look just the same."
She swallowed hard, her throat tight. "Hardly."
"You do, munchkin. You have-"
She stiffened. "Don't call me that."
"Sorry. But you still are the spitting image of your mother. How is she?"
"She died almost six years ago." McKenna's eyes stung and she shook her head. "And I can't do this. Not now. You don't get to just disappear for most of my life and then waltz back in when it's convenient for you. I don't want to see you, I don't want to talk to you. I want you to leave me alone."
"McKenna, I-"
She stepped back, shaking her head. "No. You need to go now."
"Mommy, who's this?"
She turned to see Selig standing at her side, staring up at her father with wide-eyed wonder. James' voice was filled with wonder as well as he said, "Is this your son, McKenna? He's beautiful. How old is he?"
"Sel, go back inside and keep an eye on Aislinn for me, okay?"
"Mommy?"
"Please, Sel." She had to swallow again to keep her throat from squeezing shut on her.
"Daddy?"
Loki scooped Selig into his arms and his voice was firm as he said, "James, I think you need to go now."
"Aislinn?" James' eyes lit up and grew teary. "So, I have a grandson and a granddaughter? Please... do you have more children, McKenna? Or are they the only ones?"
"I'm not doing this. Not now. You had so many chances to come back and yet you never did. And now, I don't want you coming here again. You stay away from me, from this house, and from my children."
"How many do you have, Munchkin? Two? Three?"
McKenna stepped back, up over the threshold and into the foyer and Loki shifted Selig to his right hip, bracing his left hand against James' chest. "You need go now. Do not make me say it again."
"Please... just a few minutes... at least let me apologize."
"Apologize? You had thirty years to do that. It's too late." Without a backward glance, McKenna stalked back to the kitchen, where she stood staring down at Nicholas and Kyra as they slept peacefully in their chairs. The front door closed and a moment later, the Wii started up again.
She jumped as Loki stepped up behind her and eased his arms about her waist. "Are you all right, love?"
"No." She shook her head, staring out through the windows at the family of deer picking their way across the backyard. They were so pretty, so peaceful, just strolling through. "No, I'm not."
"I know." He drew her back into his chest and kissed the top of her head. "Believe me, I understand."
"Why would he just show up here? And what did he expect? That I'd be so happy to see him that I'd forget he just vanished for most of my life?" She reached up to rub her forehead, a dull ache taking root behind her eyes. "Did you tell him to go as far away as possible and stay there?"
"No, but I did suggest it would be better for his health if he didn't come back."
She sank into him as his arms tightened about her. "I should've never gone to the door."
"Yes, you should have." He gave her a gentle squeeze. "Otherwise, you would have wondered what might have been. At least now you know."
"I knew there was a reason I never wanted to do any of those stupid interviews. If I hadn't, he never would have seen me in any of them and we wouldn't be having this conversation."
He kissed the top of her head. "Perhaps we should go back to Asgard for a while."
"No. I'm not running away from my home because of him. Uh-uh. That's not how it works, Loki."
"It was only a suggestion, McKenna."
"I know." She squeezed her eyes shut as she drew in a shaky breath. "I'm sorry. I'm... I'm a mess right now... I can't even think straight."
"I know." He gave her another gentle squeeze. "Why don't you go take a nice, hot shower and I'll keep an eye on the kids if you want to give Shay a call and go out for the day."
She shifted, turning in his arms to face him. Slipping her arms about his waist, she pressed her forehead into his chest and whispered, "I'm sorry, Loki."
"You needn't apologize to me, love," he told her, catching her face between his hands and tilting it back to meet his gaze. "If anyone understands a complicated father-child relationship, it's me."
"I know. You know, I used to tell people he was dead. I didn't want to admit he just didn't care enough to stay in my life. What father simply walks away from his own child?"
"I don't know." His thumbs grazed along her cheeks. "You couldn't keep me away from those four if you tried."
"I wouldn't. And my mother didn't, either. She tried to make excuses for him. He had to work. Or he was away on a business trip. But then weeks turned into months and months into years and I was no longer eight years old." She blinked back unexpected tears, shaking her head. "You know, psychologists will say women marry their fathers, but you couldn't be less like my father if you tried."
"Ah, but I'm sure they mean Midgardian men and I'm not Midgardian. Nor am I like any other men." He kissed her forehead. "And I am not walking out on you or the children. Not ever."
"I know."
He brushed her lips with a light kiss. "So go shower. Call Shay. And take the day for yourself. Don't worry about dinner. We'll do something fun tonight. And then, after the children are tucked in for the night, perhaps we might find some mischief to get into with each other."
She smiled, her spirits rising at the teasing glint in his eyes. "Why do I have the feeling finding mischief with you won't be a problem?"