Steele (Arizona Vengeance #9) - Sawyer Bennett Page 0,8

week so I can be the best of the best, and she learns there is no wasting time on achieving goals.

Her mother is a hard worker as well. While she was a stay-at-home mom when Lucy was younger, she started working toward her degree on a part-time basis. When Lucy entered school, Ella knocked out her undergraduate degree in graphic design and now works remotely for an ad agency based out of New York. From her, Lucy learned it’s never too late to set new goals and reach them. She saw her mom doing that while being the primary caretaker since I travel fifty percent of the season.

All of this has made Lucy into a diligent student, and she’s at the top of her class. She’s there with a little pushing, enticing, or bribing from us, but she understands the rewards that come with hard work.

An intense swelling of pride erupts within me to know my child has watched us and learned. She has taken these lessons and made herself successful with them. That’s especially so since she’s just started in a new school here in Phoenix when we moved from Quebec.

“How’s school going?” I ask, always a safe subject because she enjoys it and excels.

“Great,” she replies happily. “I really like social studies.”

“Any neat projects you’re working on?”

Lucy tells me about a paper she has to write on the Industrial Revolution and how much she likes her teacher. She bemoans math class, but is really into English and the book she’s reading—A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.

“Never heard of it,” I say. English was probably my least favorite subject and I excelled at math. Again, she takes after Ella here and not me.

Lucy tells me about the book—she’s only halfway through it—but already knows what the theme of her term paper will be. “I’m going to focus it on overcoming adversity.”

That’s my kid, I think with another puff of pride.

I love talking about this stuff with her, and I probably don’t even know the half of what goes into Lucy’s school and education because I’m gone so much. Sure, I’d sit down with her on occasion and help with schoolwork, but the majority of that fell on Ella.

Frankly, it became easier to let Ella handle it. I probably missed out on a lot of instances where I would have these moments of satisfaction to see my kid flourishing.

Over time, Ella maintained Lucy’s schedule and ensured she was a good student, made her piano lessons on time, and enforced the chores she had to do. My wife was the boundary maker and more the disciplinarian if needed.

Me?

I got to be the fun dad who was here for small patches of time, so I could swoop in and show Lucy how great I was. When I had days off, I would always plan something monumentally fun. I’d hope like hell that my kid loved me enough for these small showings of time and affection I could give her.

Focusing what free time I had with Lucy meant Ella often took a backseat to her daughter in the time we spent together. But Ella never minded because Lucy’s happiness was more important. Ella was more than fine with her place behind Lucy in my limited time, but now I know she was never fine with the way she came behind hockey and my own whims.

That’s what I need to fix.

Lucy chatters along without realizing where we are until I pull into the parking lot of “Big Bob’s Putt-Putt Palace”. She’s never been here before, but neither have I. In fact, it’s been a few years since we’ve been to a putt-putt course.

She looks over as I pull into a parking spot. “What are we doing here?”

I sweep a flourished hand toward the big marquis sign that says, “Big Bob’s Putt-Putt Palace”. It has a portly-looking fellow—who I suppose is Big Bob—with a golf club slung over his shoulder and a broad smile.

“Putt-putt,” I say simply.

Lucy stares blankly for a moment, then cocks an eyebrow.

“Oh, come on… you used to love doing this with me. We’ll play horribly and pretend to be TV announcers, whispering play-by-plays as we mock the other people who are actually better than us. Then… wait for it… ice cream!”

“Sounds lame,” she mutters.

I frown, not expecting this. Lucy loves doing goofy stuff with me. “Want to go to a movie?”

“Lame.”

“Ice skating?” I venture. Lucy’s good, and yeah… she gets that from me.

I get an eye roll in return. “Seriously, Dad… don’t