didn't trust herself to speak.
“Lissa, do you think my daddy still loves me?”
Melissa thought of her own father, of all the wonderful memories they shared, and she couldn't imagine any father not loving his own child. “Yes,” she managed to say. “I think he loves you. I'm sure he does.”
Tyler smiled shyly. “Me too.” Suddenly his eyes brightened. “I know his address. It's in the book by the phone in the kitchen. Will you help me write him a letter? I'm going to ask him to come home.”
Melissa's eyes opened wide. “Oh, I don't know.… Do you think that's a good idea? I mean, would it be all right with your mom? I'm not so sure.”
Tyler bounced up off the pillow and untangled himself from his blankets. “It's a great idea,” he exclaimed. “Come on, let's go. I know where there's some paper.”
Melissa watched him run out of the room with his straight brown hair sticking up in the air and his baseball pajamas rumpled and twisted around his sturdy little body. She sighed, then got up and followed him. It was obvious they weren't going to get anything else done until they had written a letter to Tyler's absentee father.
Beth Johnson had explained to Melissa and Toni on Saturday that her husband, Scott, had left about ten months earlier. He was now living with his new girlfriend in Austin, Texas, and although he had called Tyler fairly regularly in the beginning, his phone calls had tapered off to a trickle in the last few weeks. Tyler would not even consider the possibility that his father might not return. He talked about it daily and prayed every night for God to bring his daddy back. Melissa had felt bad for Tyler when his mother had told them about the situation, but nothing had prepared her for the look in his eyes when he asked her if she thought his daddy still loved him. Her heart ached as she followed her little charge into the kitchen. How was it possible that his father could have left him?
Tyler was already sitting at the kitchen table, a piece of paper in front of him and a pencil in his hand. Bozo, curled up on the small oval throw rug in front of the stove, eyed him intently. “I know how to write ‘Dad,’” Tyler announced. “Watch.” He held his tongue between his teeth in concentration as he carefully drew the letters. “There,” he announced. “I wrote ‘Dad.’ How do I write ‘I miss you’?”
As they worked through the letter, Melissa spelling the words and Tyler laboring over each one, she marveled at the little boy's naivete and faith that his father would respond to his plea and return. She wanted to believe he was right, but she doubted it. At the same time, she couldn't help comparing Tyler's plight to her own situation. Although she knew her father could never come home again, she also knew he had not left her by choice. That knowledge didn't make his leaving any less painful, but it kept her memories of him safe. Her dad had always been her hero, and he always would be. She knew Toni felt the same, to some extent. But Toni had Brad, so Melissa didn't see how her sister could miss their father quite as much as she did.
Melissa smiled as she remembered the scene in the living room on Saturday. She had felt a bit guilty for eavesdropping on Toni and Brad, but her relief at hearing them make up had far surpassed her feelingsof guilt. When she had heard Brad apologize to Toni for the way he had spoken to her and Toni's response to Brad's apology, Melissa had known everything was going to be OK again.
When Brad had called earlier that afternoon, expecting to get the answering machine and planning to leave a message for Toni to call him when she got home, he had sounded surprised when Melissa answered. She had tried to cover for Toni, without actually lying, but Brad realized something was wrong and had come right over. Finally, through her tears, Melissa told Brad about Abe's phone call the previous evening and about Toni's going off with him in his car earlier