Sally Tyler Hayes - Magic In A Jelly Jar

“Abbie, I’m sorry. I love you very much. You know that, don’t you? And I always will.”

“I don’t understand why you had to go so far away.”

And Samantha simply couldn’t explain it to her, except to say, “You know the worst thing about being a grown-up is that we don’t always get to do what we want or to live where we want or to see the people we love as much as we’d like. But I do love you. I won’t ever stop. And I love Sarah, too.”

“You just don’t love Daddy?”

Samantha sighed, then drew in a shaky breath. Richard didn’t love her anymore. That was the problem. But she couldn’t make him the villain here, not to his daughter. Samantha wanted Abbie and Sarah to be happy now with Richard and his new wife, even if it had broken Samantha’s heart to lose the girls. And if she wanted the girls to be happy, she couldn’t blame their father for what happened.

“Abbie, I’m so sorry. If I could, I’d wave a magic wand and everything would go back to the way it was before, and we’d all be together again.”

“But you can do all sorts of magic,” Abbie argued. “I saw you. Lots of times. Can’t you fix this? So we can be together again?”

“No, sweetie, I can’t.”

“Well…can I at least call you? When Daddy isn’t here? So we can just talk sometimes?”

“Abbie, it’s long distance. Your father’s going to know you called when he gets the bill and sees my number there.”

“He will?”

“I’m afraid so. You’re going to have to tell him.”

“But he’ll get mad.”

“Maybe not so mad if you tell him first, Abbie. Tell him you’re sorry, and then ask him if it’s okay if you call again sometimes. Maybe on my birthday. Do you remember when it is?”

“May?”

“Yes, in May.”

“But that’s four whole months away! What if I don’t want to wait that long? What if I need to talk to you?”

Swallowing hard, barely managing to keep her voice steady, Samantha said, “You’re going to have to ask your father and do what he says. Because he’s your father.”

Whereas, she was nothing to Abbie anymore, at least not according to Abbie’s father. Never mind that Samantha spent three years mothering Abbie and Sarah, or that she couldn’t love them more if she’d given birth to them.

“Abbie?” she said softly, working hard not to let the bitterness come through. “Your father is the one who gets to decide about these things, okay?”

“It’s just not fair,” Abbie said tearfully.

“I know.” Samantha had to cover the receiver for a minute, because she was crying so hard and she didn’t want the little girl to hear. It would only make this harder. “I love you, sweetie. Tell Sarah I love her, too.”

And then Samantha hung up the phone and wept.

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