I began to hope Darla could succeed. I'd been writing a fictional version (originally entitled Sneakers for obvious reasons) inspired by my experience with Darla.
Although it was inspired by friends of mine who have five daughters, one of whom is named Stephanie, and one of whom (the youngest) had a Christmas wedding, I'm not sure why I decided to write a romantic Christmas novella.
I know now parenting is not easy. As a child I didn’t understand my parents were who they were. Human beings with flaws and hopes and dreams and disappointments and baggage.
He’s got custody of his newborn daughter which he’s ill-equipped to handle. His son wants nothing to do with him. Emmaline’s sister shows up at his door and blames him for her death. The daughter Doug never knew about because Emmaline gave her up for adoption without telling him arrives, bringing her own anger and abandonment issues.
She had been in a nursing home for several years, deteriorating at a snail’s pace. On my annual visits, my brother and I would question the wisdom of stockpiling old people in places like this.
“We did the best we could.”
At the time I thought, yeah right. That was your best? Well, it wasn’t nearly good enough. Parents of their generation didn’t compliment their children because they didn’t want them to get a big head.
“We never agreed. You dictated and eventually I swallowed my own objections. I’ve been choking on them ever since. Joy is here now and she stays.” Marcy tugged Joy’s hand and Joy followed her to the kitchen feeling her father’s stare of disapproval like bullet holes in her back.