A New Leash on Life Read Online Free PDF

screaming, and blowing bubbles as they walked past her.
    When Ayla turned five, she managed to somehow get all the cats to sleep together in her bed. They purred to her, the cat whisperer. One night, when I tucked her into bed, she grabbed Marmalade, an orange Tabby cat, and placed her on her back, paws up in the air as if dangling. Over her loud purring, Ayla asked me the question I’d dreaded since she first said “Da Da.” “How come I don’t have a daddy?”
    How do you tell a five-year-old that she doesn’t have a daddy because her mommy failed to face the truth? “Some kids just don’t. You have a favorite Auntie Marie instead.”
    She rolled over with Marmalade and giggled. That answer fit just fine with her.
    “Ayla asked about her daddy last night,” I said to my aunt the next afternoon while we sat in the backyard watching Ayla take Oony Gato on a walk around the fence. “I’m not sure how much longer she’ll accept my pathetic answers.”
    “The questions will only get harder.”
    I pictured a wiser, older Ayla confronting me, her terrible mother, for not blessing her with the freedom to meet her father and to decide for herself whether she wanted this man in her life or not.
    Ayla galloped alongside Oony, giggling at the grass that tickled her calves.
    ~ ~
    I looked up Ayla’s father on Facebook. His arm caressed the shoulder of a pretty brunette with a cropped, smart hairstyle. She smiled wide at the camera and swaddled a baby in her arms. I scanned his albums, and in most every picture, he carried his baby, smiling, the super dad of the year.
    I flared.
    Rage tore through me like a mad storm, kicking up all sorts of dusty anger. That could’ve been Ayla if he had owned up. He could’ve shielded the finger pointing, the upsets, by stepping up to the table and explaining that the sex meant nothing more than a release. Ayla could’ve grown up with a father who adored her as much as he adored his new baby.
    My maternal instinct kicked into high gear. So much time had passed since I’d trudged away from Olivia with my dark secrets. My collection of time supported me, comforted me, and rivaled my inhibitions. Perhaps if she could accept the truth of what really happened, all of our lives would reshape to something more joyful.
    I asked my aunt to watch Ayla and within minutes, I drove down the interstate en route to Elkwood in my beat-up Corolla with its muffler hanging on by a rope.
    I braved my fear, running towards it and drove straight to Olivia’s parents’ house.
    I pulled up in front of their white colonial with the pretty green shutters. A red pickup truck sat in the driveway. A Ford. Olivia’s favorite color and model. I hopped out of my car and charged up the front walk before I could lose my nerve.
    The time had arrived to face the facts. My daughter’s future rested on my shedding the secrets and jumping into the frigid waters of truth. Perhaps Olivia would listen with an open heart, cushioned by the years, and convince me to introduce Ayla to her father. She’d wrap her protective arms around me and tell me she understood that I was young, impressionable, and vulnerable. She’d ask me all about the past five years and sink into every detail with focus, wanting to hear everything from her birth to her first steps, to her first word, to her love of animals. We’d enjoy tea parties and lazy days out in the park flinging Frisbees and barbequing burgers. She and I would drink wine under the umbrella of a cherry blossom tree while Ayla walked Oony Gato in circles.
    I’d start with a visit and work up to the truth.
    I braved a knock on her front door. A lady wearing curlers and a flannel nightgown answered. Cinnamon wafted from the foyer. A small Dachshund stood beside her barking and wagging his tail. He sported a leather collar with spikes. “I’m not interested in what you’re selling, sweetie.”
    I scanned the foyer that used to house a bookshelf filled with classic,