I kind of surprised myself. Having a baby had made me more ambitious and determined than I had ever been, but spending an hour with my roommates, I began to understand what I was giving up. I felt cheated out of my college experience, but I had no choice. It was time to grow up.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Carrington Olivia Butler

  Another long day ended in the most unexpected way. I said goodnight to Jack, my dad joining me this time. They only allowed two people in the neonatal unit at a time.

  He got a kick out of introducing himself to the nurses and to Jack as Grandpa.

  We spent an hour with him. My mom and brother brought in dinner by the time we returned. The doctor encouraged me to walk, and I took the trek back to my room, which took forever. It wore me out, and I lay in bed drifting in and out of sleep. My parents ate and chatted about Jack’s features and whom he most resembled.

  When my family left, I drifted off to sleep. When I woke this time, another visitor sat in a chair next to my bed.

  “Hi, Mr. Griffin.”

  “Hello.”

  His wrinkled suit didn’t match the put-together, in-control man I’d met before. The wrinkles by his eyes appeared deeper, and his pale skin tone made him appear twenty years older.

  “How are you?” I asked.

  “Not good,” he said. “You?”

  “I’ve been better.”

  He produced a chuckle from deep in his throat. It filled the room, which made it more awkward because neither of us, so far, had said anything approaching funny.

  “I assume you heard about Josh.” The disgust in his voice when he spoke his name hurt me and pissed me off. It made me want to defend Josh, and I hated myself for feeling protective of the man who tried to kill me.

  “Yes. I heard. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Are you really?”

  “Yes, of course. I’m sorry he’s gone and I realize, more than ever, how much help he needed. I’m sorry he felt he had no other choices.”

  “You think this is my fault?” he asked. Not in an adversarial way.

  “I think it’s all of our faults. You know, yours because, well, you’re his father, and you raised him. My fault for not protecting myself, but mostly Josh’s fault.”

  Mr. Griffin scanned the room.

  “You know his mother killed herself?”

  “Yeah, he told me.”

  “Same way, except she crushed her Valium up in a vodka bottle.”

  He said it like it was a punch line.

  Mr. Griffin sat in silence. We were beyond small talk. When he spoke again, his voice was stronger, more in control.

  “Did Josh tell you what I said? What I told him to do? About the baby, I mean.”

  “No, but when he tried to beat my unborn child to death, he told me his father told him to fix the problem. I guessed that’s what he was doing. Fixing the problem.”

  I blinked my eyes, and my heart started racing.

  “I’m not going to lie to you and I expect the same courtesy from you, are we clear?”

  “Okay.”

  “I was not thrilled to find out my son was involved with you. It’s nothing personal, but my family has a certain standard to uphold. I’m sure you come from a good family and have a good head on your shoulders. You got into FSU, so you can’t be all bad.”

  The tension on my shoulders tightened with every insult.

  “You’re just not the type of girl I saw my son with. Josh knew that, and he ended his life instead of dealing with his responsibilities like a man.”

  I blinked back tears.

  “So,” he stood up, “I guess we need to figure out this whole baby thing. If, in fact, it is Josh’s baby.”

  “He is Josh’s son.”

  “That remains to be seen,” Mr. Griffin said.

  “Why did you come here?” I asked.

  “To see what the baby looked like. I’ll agree to a paternity test and if, and only if, he turns out to be Josh’s son, he will be entitled to my son’s estate by law. I would remain the executor and let a judge decide how much child support the estate will provide. When you son turns eighteen, he will be entitled to the entire sum and be taken care of for life. There you have it. Win-win.”

  If it weren’t for the twelve staples in my abdomen, I would have physically jumped out of bed and removed him from my room and my life. I wanted no part of this man’s money. My first instincts, correct. No amount of financial security made signing my son’s life away worth it. The Griffins had serious issues and the money wasn’t worth it.

  I wanted to tell him off. I wanted so bad to tell him what to do with his test, and his name, and most of all his money. No matter how I might struggle or how many sacrifices I needed to make, I would do it. If only for the satisfaction of being able to show Mr. Griffin that not only didn’t I want his money, but I didn’t need it either.

  Instead of spouting off at the mouth, I tried another approach and said, “No, thank you.”

  “What do you mean, no, thank you?”

  “No, thank you, to all of it—the paternity test, the child-support, the estate, all of it. No, thanks. We will be fine.”

  “You have any idea what you’re giving up? For you? For him and his future?”

  “I prefer to look at what I’m gaining: a lifetime without having to deal with your ignorant bullshit. Listen, I don’t want to get into a screaming match with you, so I’ll just say again, no, thank you, and goodbye.”

  He stared at me. When he realized I wasn’t backing down, he turned around and walked out the door. I hoped for good, but Mr. Griffin didn’t appear to be the kind of man who gave up easily.

  My well thought-out decision was not popular among my family members or with Jackson. My brother asked one of his law school classmates to look into it.

  My mind was made up, but they insisted I speak to him. We talked on the phone, and he gathered all the relevant facts. He had to do some research and promised to drive up to give me a report in a few days.

  My dad and brother stayed for a week, but had to get back to work. My mom stayed. She watched over me and took care of me so I could concentrate on watching over Jackson and taking care of him.

  The following week, Dr. Autrey kicked me out of the hospital. My bruises and cuts had all healed. The soft cast came off. Jack only weighed three and a half pounds by the time I was discharged, and I had to leave him there.

  The night before moving into the hotel with my mother, I packed up the stuff I had accumulated in my two and a half week stay in the hospital. I took my time packing. I wasn’t ready to leave my little guy here all by himself.

  In a drawer in the nightstand I found a bag with TPD stamped across the side. I shook it and the contents jingled. I opened it and poured the items on the table.

  My cell phone and my key card case, which held my student id, fell out. A smaller item bounced off the table and fell to the floor. It was the diamond spear Josh gave me. I was wearing it when he attacked me. I left it on the floor and looked at my phone.

  I pressed the button on the top and was surprised it turned on. The phone flashed a few missed calls and several text messages.

  My throat constricted and I had to sit down when I noticed one of the missed calls was from Josh. It also indicated he left a message.

  My hand hovered over the delete button. I had no desire to hear his message, but morbid curiosity got the better of me. I assumed it was an apology and a plea for forgiveness. I didn’t need to hear him say he was sorry.

  I wanted an explanation, though. I’d pieced together most of what happened, but I needed to know why.

  Maybe this was his way of giving me what I needed.

  I pressed the button.

  “Hi Carrington, (sigh) my sweet Carrington. I’m so sorry. I know the words don’t mean anything, but I had to say it anyway. I’m not sure what else to say. I never meant to hurt you, but it was inevitable. I wish I’d never met you; that way you would still be the strong, sweet, beautiful and amazing girl I saw on campus last fall. I took that away from you and I’m so sorry.” His words started to slur, and it sounded like he was crying. “I am so sorry. I love you so much, and if you want, don’t tell my son about me. He’ll grow up better with the fantasy of me than the reality. I would much rather have had a fantasy fake father than my real father myself. He will be fine.”

  He rambled more, but his speech became inaudible. I was about to hang up, but then he spoke into the phone, again.

  “Carrington, you are the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’m sorry for not being the same for you. Bye!” He didn’t hang up right away. I sat and listened to his car engine turn off. The radio played low, and I heard the beat, but not the melody. I heard Josh laugh and then the line when dead.

  I took the phone and crawled back into bed. I thought about playing it again. I heard the pain and sadness in Josh’s voice and hoped it was genuine. His mother had left him a message before she killed himself, and he listened to it over and over again. It consumed him. He could recite it word for word and he never got over her death.

  I deleted the message. I lay there looking around the room, and although the door and window were open, I needed to get out. I stuffed the phone in one of my bags and pushed myself off the bed and headed to the nursery to see Jack. I thought the sound of Josh’s voice would evoke some emotion, but I was numb. I needed to feel something. My lack of emotion at Josh’s apology scared me.

  I was so ready to move on.

  I met with my brother’s friend Mark at restaurant near the Capitol the next week. Mark looked kind of bookish, with thick glasses and clean cut, short brown hair. He wore khakis and a golf shirt, but I got the impression he was more comfortable in a suit. I imagined his casual attire was meant to put me at ease more than anything.

  I sat across from him in a booth near a window looking out onto the Capitol grounds.

  “You know, I went to school with Amanda Griffin.” he said.

  “No.”

  “Yeah, even met Mr. Griffin, once.”

  “What did you think of him?”

  “He scared the shit out of me.” We laughed, and I instantly warmed up to him.

  He avoided the whole fraternity/sorority scene for moral reasons. He meant it as a joke, but it made me trust him more than his other credentials or his law degree from SMU. My mind was made up, but I listened.

  “So, basically what Mr. Griffin offered you, Jack is entitled to. There is a formula for deciding the amount of child support and Josh’s estate automatically goes to his child, but paternity has to be established first. Once paternity is established, they would require his name to be put on the birth certificate at that time.”

  “But I told him I didn’t want his money.”

  “That doesn’t matter either; it’s little Jackson’s right. And, you know, if you didn’t want to make a claim now, your son could make a claim when he turned twelve, I think. I would have to check on that.”

  We went back and forth for an hour; me asserting my objection for one reason or another and him countering it with one good point after another.

  Frustrated, Mark set his pen down, clasped his fingers together, and stared at me.

  “You know, you would make a great lawyer.”

  I smiled.

  “What are you afraid of?” he asked.

  I thought for a minute and shook my head.

  “I don’t want him to control me. I don’t want him to have any chance of controlling my son. I witnessed firsthand the influence he had over his children, and it was scary to watch. And when he visited me in the hospital, right after his son had killed himself, he wasn’t devastated. My son stopped breathing the other day for eighteen seconds, and I freaked out. I blamed myself. Mr. Griffin lost his child, and it didn’t break him.”

  “Listen, I get it. I have a three-year-old, and I worry about him every day. Like I said, if you’re not ready now, I understand. Let’s wait a year or two, and see what happens.”

  “Just curious… How much money are we talking about?”

  “Well, this is my best estimate, but Josh was worth somewhere around eight million dollars. The trust paid him a hundred thousand dollars a year until he turned twenty-five, then he would have had access to the rest.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “No, but let me put it into perspective for you. Mr. Griffin is worth probably somewhere around one hundred and twenty million dollars, but from what I hear, his will leaves the majority of his estate to FSU. The man loves his Seminoles.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. Crazy, right? So, we’re going to sit on this for a while?”

  “Yes. Thank you for the information.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I explained my reasoning to my parents one more time, and they promised to leave it alone. I decided to stick with my original plan and head back to Dallas with my mom as soon as the doctors released Jack. We rented an SUV and took turns driving straight through. Fourteen hours later, Jack and I started our new life.

  Epilogue

  One Year Later

  Carrington Olivia Butler

  Jackson will be turning one year old tomorrow. The year flew by, but we have celebrated every little milestone my little guy accomplished since he arrived. His height and weight were small for his age, and the poor thing was allergic to everything. He had asthma, but nothing stopped him.

  He started crawling at eight months and got bored quick and started walking at eleven. He spoke a few words, and his vocabulary grew every day. He touched everything and loved pushing buttons. He selected a task and wouldn’t give up on it until he achieved it. I called him my miracle and thanked God for every day he was healthy and happy.

  As he grew, his skin tone stayed the same, but his eyes turned hazel with green flecks like his father’s, and his hair became lighter, too. He resembled his father in mannerisms, and I thought it would be hard for me to see, but it wasn’t. I made peace with what happened and chose to block out most everything that related to my time with Josh. My therapist disagreed with my logic, but it worked for me.

  Jackson and I continued to talk at least once a week. FSU didn’t repeat as National Champions, ending up in third, and losing in the new championship bracket game to LSU. Jackson also came in third place in the Heisman Trophy race. Jack and I watched every game. Every time he outgrew his FSU jersey, Jackson would send him another one, and he wore it every Saturday, even in the off-season.

  After the season, everyone waited for Jackson to make a decision about his future. He could forgo his last year of eligibility and head to the NFL or return to FSU for another year. I listened, but secretly I rooted for him to stay at FSU.

  I tried not to think too much about the “what ifs” when it came to Jackson and me. I toyed with the idea of going back for my junior year, but I’d already gotten into SMU as a transfer and the early childhood department ran a day care center on campus for students. Jack loved being around his Gram and Grandpa. I didn’t want to burden my parents financially more than I had to. They never complained, and enjoyed being in Jack’s life.

  Jack sat on the counter, and I held him as we decorated his birthday cake. When the doorbell rang, we both stopped and looked at each other. I wiped his hands and put him in his playpen in the living room, and answered the door.

  I blinked to make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me.

  “Hello, Carrington.” Mr. Griffin stood on my doorstep. He held his head down and wouldn’t meet my eyes. He looked back to his old self, but thinner and tanner than I remembered. He wore a golf shirt and black slacks.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “I wanted to speak with you. I’ve called, and my lawyers have sent you letters, but they were returned unopened.” I detected something different in his tone of voice, something I never expected from him—humbleness. I pushed it out of my mind. It was too late for him to say he was sorry.

  “Yeah. I don’t need to hear anything you have to say.” I surprised myself at how bitter and angry I sounded. After a year, the man made my skin hot and my heart race. I got on the defensive quickly, ready to knock down whatever pitch he’d prepared for me today.

  “If you could give me one minute, then I will leave you alone.”

  “No, I can’t give you one minute. You didn’t give your son one minute of understanding and compassion. Hell, if you had given him one minute of your precious time, you would have known he was in trouble and needed you. I don’t want anything to do with a person like that. I—”

  I looked down and Jackson stood next to me with his arm wrapped around my leg, looking up at Mr. Griffin. I missed some icing on his little hand and when he reached out to grab Mr. Griffin’s pants to avoid toppling over, he wiped white icing down his leg.

  Mr. Griffin stood there with a stunned expression. I watched his face soften to a smile as he knelt down and took Jack’s hand and shook it. Jack laughed and he laughed, but then Mr. Griffin cried. A few tears at first, but then a sob escaped his lips and Jack gasped and took off running back into the house. Mr. Griffin remained on his knees sobbing into his hands.

  As much as I didn’t want to admit it, his sudden outburst touched my heart. I reached down and grabbed his arm, pulling him up and leading him inside. I sat him on the end of the couch, as he took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his face. The sobs subsided, but the tears continued to fall. I handed him a glass of water and sat down across from him until he stopped crying.

  “He has Josh’s eyes,” he said. “I didn’t expect him to look so much like my son.”

  Jack approached again. His eyes darted back and forth between his grandfather and me. He took Mr. Griffin’s hand and shook it. This time Mr. Griffin laughed and Jack seemed curious that the same action got a different response; he shook it again and again.