How young was too young, Julie wondered. Could a five-year-old really drown in a bathtub?
She ran the water. Marisa stepped in and Julie hovered over the tub, one hand steady on Marisa’s arm in case she slipped. Marisa sat down and looked up at her expectantly. “Do we got bubbles?”
“Bubbles.” How could she make bubbles? Shampoo, maybe? Julie opened the nearest box and pushed things around inside, looking for the green bottle. She poured some shampoo into the stream of water. It bubbled beautifully, and Marisa clapped. “Bubbles!” She splashed, then looked up at Julie anxiously.
“Don’t worry, honey, just try to keep it in the tub.”
She washed the little girl’s long dark hair, then watched her splash a bit. She’d have to get some bath toys.
“All ready?”
Marisa nodded, and Julie helped her out of the tub and into a towel. She dried her off, rubbing the too-thin little legs and arms gently, hugging her through the towel as she dried off her back. “Oh, Marisa, I’m so glad you came to live with me. I’m so glad I’m your mom now.”
Marisa stiffened. Then, almost convulsively, her arms went around Julie and hugged her back. Julie almost cried.
She helped Marisa into her pajamas and made up her bed for her. “Shall we read a story? Which one do you want to read?”
Marisa knelt by the small pile of well-worn books—Julie added a bookcase to her list of things to buy—and pulled out an especially tattered one. Sharing Danny’s Dad. The story of a little boy who one day shared his best friend’s dad while his own father was away at work. The Trocens, Marisa’s foster family before Mary and George, had given it to her last year for Christmas. She’d wanted it read to her almost daily.
As Julie was tucking Marisa in, she could tell the little girl had something on her mind. “What’s up, honey?”
“Mom, can I share Joe’s dad?”
Julie froze her face, trying to keep from showing any dismay. “Well, I’m sure you can be good friends with Ben.”
“But I can’t share him?”
Julie sighed silently. “I guess you can share him a little, sometimes.”
She kissed Marisa good-night and walked back downstairs. She sat down next to Carla on the couch, poured herself a glass of wine and propped her feet on the battered coffee table. “Marisa wants a dad.”
Carla shrugged. “Everyone wants a dad. I want a dad.”
“I know. But Marisa really needs a father. More than most kids do. It’s all she talks about. It’s as if getting a mother gave her hope that she could actually get both.” Tears stung Julie’s eyes and she wiped them away.
Carla watched her, sympathy in her eyes. “So get her a dad.”
Julie snorted. “As if it were that easy.”
Carla leaned back and put her feet on the coffee table, too. “What’s so difficult about it? You weren’t planning on staying single forever, were you?”
“Well, no. But things are different now. For one thing, he has to be a really great dad.”
Shrugging, Carla said, “Then find one of those.”
“How do you find ‘one of those’?”
Carla smirked at her. “Well, it would help if you were actually dating someone.”
“Thanks so much.”
“My pleasure.”
Julie thought for a moment. “Okay, so I date. How do I recognize a great dad?”
“I think it’s just something you have to take a chance on.” Carla thought for a moment. “Don’t you think most well-intentioned people probably end up being pretty good parents?”
Probably true, for most kids. But Marisa wasn’t most kids. “But is it enough to be a pretty good parent? Marisa needs a great parent.”
“She’s got you. That’s one great parent.”
Julie shook her head. “But I know nothing.” Every new day proved that to her in alarming ways. She felt as if she were treading on eggshells with Marisa, trying not to make some huge permanent mistake.
“You know what you want to be, as a parent. Just find a guy who wants the same.”
It sounded simple, but Julie knew better. “No, he needs to be better than me. He needs to be enough to make up for me. To make up for my shortcomings. Someone who knows what he’s doing. I need to find someone who can be a great dad.”
Carla laughed. “So falling in love doesn’t enter into it?”
Julie smiled at her friend, sheepish. “Of course, I have to love him, too. But if it’s just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor one, then it ought to be just as easy to fall in love with a good father as a bad one.” She collapsed against the cushions, frustrated. “Which brings us right back to figuring out which ones are the good ones. And then dating them.”
Carla leaned forward. “And falling in love.”
Julie gave her a frown of mock exasperation. “Of course, and falling in love. Sometimes you tend to harp, were you aware of that?” It was a plan, though. It just might work. “If I only date men who would be good fathers, then that’s the only kind of guy I’ll be able to fall in love with.”
“What, you figure once you’re ready to fall in love, it’ll happen with whoever is close by?” Carla hooted. “Somehow I don’t think that’s how it works.”
“Well, it’ll at least be more likely that way.”
“Okay, so you stay away from known pedophiles.”
Julie laughed. “It’s more than that. I want to find a man who will be good for Marisa, not just one who won’t be bad for her.”
Carla thought for a moment. “You know, I read an article once about where to find single men.” She had the grace to blush at Julie’s raised eyebrow. “Well, there was nothing else to read at the gynecologist’s except Cosmo and a pamphlet on breast self-exams. Anyway, it said you look for single men in the places single men are. Like, you sign up for group golf lessons because the class is likely to be filled with men. So why don’t you look for good fathers in the places they hang out?”
Julie shot her a look. “You know, that is a very good idea.”
“I know. I’m full of good ideas. I always tell you that and you never listen.” Carla leaned back, chewing on her lip. “Where does someone who would be a good father hang out?”
“I’ll tell you where.” Julie got up and walked into the kitchen. She picked up the flier she’d read earlier and brought it back to Carla. “Here’s where.”
Carla looked at it. “At parenting workshops? Wouldn’t those be full of guys who think they aren’t very good parents and need help?”
Julie brushed that aside. “Not the people attending. The guy giving the lecture.”
Carla squinted at the picture, then read the caption. “‘Maynard Frader, Ph.D., is a noted child psychologist and author of several books on parenting.”’ She shook her head. “I dunno. He looks kind of geeky to me.”
Julie snatched the paper back and looked at the picture. “That’s not geeky.” Or at least, not very geeky. “That’s warm and kindly. He has his chin propped on his hands,