On a Thursday weeks later, with her mother in prison and the only grandparents she has ever known out on bail, it was decided that Emily would stay with her father’s mother.  Her father’s father had died years ago.  The next day her father was to be set free.  Emily’s stomach was ready to leap from her body as the social worker pulled up in front of her “new” grandmother’s house.  She was walking to the house taking in every detail, from the white flaking paint on the front door with a upside down heart-shape bell with smaller hearts lining the string, to the small pond and waterfall in the front yard with goldfish in it.  The front door opened, the bell lightly ringing.  Her heart and breath stopped as the person who had to be her grandmother stepped out to greet her.

            She looks just like me, thought Emily.  Relief flooded through her and came out as tears.  Her grandmother stood in the doorway with her hands clutched together in front of her mouth, tears streaming down her face.  She wanted to run and hug Emily, but she did not want to scare her away.  She’d been waiting for a moment like this for too long.  Emily startled both of them when she sprinted to her grandmother and flung her arms around her in tight embrace.  Even though relatives were told not to come by so Emily would not be overwhelmed, they came anyway.  And Emily loved it.  In a few hours time, she had somehow felt closer to this gaggle of strangers; her new family, than she ever had with her mom and her grandparents.

            Emily was barely able to sleep and the next day she woke early anticipating meeting her father.  He was not due at the house until 1:00 p.m., but she began waiting outside at 10 a.m.  The past few weeks had been agonizing.  She kept being told that she could not see her father.  They wouldn’t tell her when he was to be freed; that there was paperwork that needed to be processed.  Sitting out on the front porch was infinitely worse.  She could go inside and wait with her grandmother, aunts, and cousins, but they were just staring at each other, making small talk every so often, and waiting for the minutes to pass as well.  Then, after who knows how long, she saw a black Lincoln Town Car round the corner onto her street and she just knew it was him.

            At the prison a guard summoned Donovan, or Don as most people call him, out of his cell to see the warden.  Now what? thought Don.  Every time they get a new warden, he is usually called in for some asinine reason.  Most of the time, it’s something to do with his drawing and painting supplies or his ability to paint and draw.  Everybody wants something for free.  This warden was definitely younger than any of his predecessors and greeted him with smile.

            “Sit down, Mr. Kingsley,” the warden said gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

            Mr. Kingsley?  What the hell?

            “I have some news for you,” began the warden and let loose the events of the week past.  Don broke down, sobbing about midway through the warden’s speech.  He stopped when the warden explained that even though his ex-mother-in-law was claiming complete innocence, it was his ex-father-in-law who came clean saying he was pressured by his wife to help cover up their daughter’s ‘mistake’.  How do you like that?  And I thought the guy hated me.  From what the warden understood happened, the father-in-law thought that his daughter would straighten up having a child as her sole responsibility.  That getting Don out of her life would fix things, but things just seemed to get worse and they ended up, more or less, raising Emily.  When April had her breakdown, he knew he could not keep quiet any longer, even if it meant his wife leaving him.  No matter how much he may have disliked his ex-son-in-law, he did not deserve what he had done to him.  The warden explained that Don would be getting a private cell away from the general population and a counselor and in a week, a car would be here to take him home.  To meet his daughter. 

As planned, a week later the car arrived to pick him up.  The car ride home seemed to last longer than his entire 15-year prison term.  When the car turned onto the familiar street of his mother’s house, his stomach gave a lurch.  Suddenly, he wanted to go back.  What if April was right?  What if he isn’t good enough for Emily?  Worst of all, what if she hates him?  He wanted to grab the driver and tell him turn around, but then he saw her on the front porch standing up to get a better look at the car coming closer to the house.  Nothing could have prepared him for how beautiful she looked.  Standing there, looking earnestly at the car, wringing her hands, she looked so full of hope.  God, I don’t wanna disappoint her, he thought.  He pushed the door open and stepped outside the car onto the sidewalk.  Emily had walked about halfway to the car by this time and they just stood there staring at each other for a moment.  Don saw a flicker of movement behind Emily.  It was his mom.  She motioned at him to go to his daughter.  He walked closer until he was directly in front of her.  He tried to speak, but no words came.  Then she hugged him and he knew now that he was truly free.  Her smaller frame disappeared when he wrapped his arms around her in an embrace that said he was never letting go.