The Daughter He Gambled Away

"Congratulations to Mr. Keaton, who has won the Eternal Heart for three million dollars, a gift for Ms.

Treadwell." When the applause started, I almost shouted out who the man onstage really was. He was my dad.

Just last night, because we only had three thousand dollars left, he'd held my pregnant mom and apologized over and over, trying to talk her out of having my little brother.

Every day he wore his ratty delivery work jacket and said medicine was too expensive, preschool was too expensive, and he couldn't even scrape together my tuition.

But right now he was wearing a suit I had never seen before, giving a threemilliondollar necklace to another woman. Everyone called him, respectfully: "Mr.

Keaton." Chapter 1 I almost shouted out loud. But Mom clamped a hand over my mouth and pulled me behind a pillar. Her hand was cold, and it wouldn't stop shaking.

I tipped my head back and followed her gaze. I looked just in time to see a pretty lady take the necklace and lean affectionately on Dad's shoulder. "Congratulations to Mr.

Keaton, who has won the Eternal Heart for three million dollars, a gift for Ms. Treadwell." The whole room broke into thunderous applause.

I didn't understand how much three million dollars was.

All I knew was that today Mom had stood until her feet swelled, carrying plates all day long, and she'd still only make two hundred dollars.

Last month, I had a fever of a hundred and four. Dad carried me on his back and ran a long way through the rain before he found a clinic.

He bought fever medicine, then muttered about it like it hurt him. "This stuff is so expensive.

A whole twelve dollars." But just now, that man had casually raised his paddle and spent enough to buy more bottles of that medicine than I could ever count. So how could he be Dad?

I gave Mom's shirt a little tug. "Mom, that man looks just like Dad." Mom quickly wiped her tears, then crouched down and stroked my hair. "He really does.

My Paloma is so smart." I wasn't smart, actually. I could tell Mom was really sad, but I didn't know why she was crying.

Chris from next door started preschool at three and could read lots of words. But I had never gone to preschool.

Dad said preschool was too expensive and told me to wait a little longer. Next fall, once I was old enough, I could finally start kindergarten at the public school. That was okay.

Once I started school, I'd definitely find a way to make Mom happy again. I followed Mom like a good girl, and we slipped out of the auction hall.

After Mom collected her two hundred dollars in wages, she did something she never did and took me to a dessert shop. "Mom, you have some too." I scooped up a bite of cake and held it to her mouth.

Mom shook her head. Her phone kept ringing, but she didn't answer any of the calls. I snuck a look. It was Dad calling.

So when Mom went to the restroom, I picked up. "Lyddie, why haven't you been answering?" "You're pregnant. You shouldn't be running around." "Dad, Mom cried a lot today.

Please don't yell at her anymore, okay?" "Paloma?" Dad sounded startled. "Where are you guys?

Why was Mom crying?" I was about to tell Dad that we'd run into a man who looked just like him. But before I could say it, Mom grabbed the phone out of my hand. "I'm fine.

I just took Paloma out for a walk. We'll be home soon." She hung up. Chapter 2 Mom looked down at the small swell of her belly, then suddenly pulled me into her arms.

Hot tears fell onto my neck. "Be good, Mom.

Don't cry." "When Paloma grows up, she'll make lots of money and buy Mom a sparkly necklace too." I copied what Dad always did and patted her back gently.

But that only made Mom cry harder. We lived on a narrow alley in the old part of the city.

A hurricane had come through a couple of days before, and most of the streetlights were broken. Water pooled on the old cobblestones. Every step was wet and slippery.

Dad was worried, so he was already waiting at the end of the alley. "What took you so long?" "I got those roasted chestnuts you like, and I made cod soup.

Let's go home and have it while it's hot." He took off his jacket and wrapped it around me, then looked at Mom. "What's wrong?

Are you not feeling well?" Under the dim streetlight, Dad's face kept slipping in and out of shadow. He was really handsome.

The ladies in the neighborhood always said Dad had been born into the wrong family. He had a rich boy's face and a delivery guy's luck.

Whenever Mom used to hear that, she'd lift her chin and fire back: "What's wrong with delivering food?" "He works hard, and he loves his wife and his kid.

That makes him better than any of those rich boys who just spend their family's money." We were poor. We'd lived in a basement where the rain leaked in.

We often walked four or five miles home to save two dollars on bus fare. But Dad worked hard and always tried to do better.

He saved the good food for Mom and me and went hungry himself.

Mom used to smile and say: "As long as the whole family's together, there's nothing to be afraid of, no matter how hard or tiring it gets." But today, Mom looked at Dad.

There wasn't a trace of a smile in her eyes. "I'm tired." Dad didn't think much of it. He took Mom's hand, then bent down and lifted me onto his back.

I lay against Dad's broad back, and my eyelids got heavier and heavier. Half asleep, I caught a faint scent. It smelled nice. It smelled familiar, too.

It seemed like the same scent the pretty lady at the auction had on. Dad put me down on the bed.

Then he ducked into the kitchen and brought out the cod soup he'd been keeping warm in the pot. Our table was really old.

One of its legs was propped up on a brick Dad had put there. But the fish soup smelled so good.

A few bits of chopped chives floated in the milkywhite broth, and next to it was a dish of dill pickles, Mom's favorite.

Dad ladled out a bowl, picked out every last bone, and only then pushed it over to Mom. "I asked the doctor.

Fish soup is good for you." "You keep throwing up and can't keep anything else down.

At least have some soup." Mom looked at the bowl, then suddenly asked: "How much was the fish?" Dad paused, then smiled. "Hardly anything.

The fish market was about to close, so the guy sold it to me cheap." "Don't worry about money. I did over a dozen extra deliveries today.

That's enough for a few fish." Then he pulled a wad of crumpled bills out of his pocket.

He smoothed them out one by one and pressed them all into Mom's hand. "This is what I made today.

After paying to charge the ebike, there's eightysix dollars left." "Tomorrow I'll ask the dispatcher again, see if he can give me a few more night shifts." He crouched down in front of Mom, his eyes red. "Lyddie, I'm just not good enough." "I know you don't want to give up this baby." "But ever since Paloma was born, I haven't given you a single good day.

And now there's another one…" "I don't care how hard things get for me, but how can I let you and the kids suffer right along with me?" At that, Mom's tears spilled over.

Chapter 3 "Jude Keaton, do you really think it's because you're not good enough?" "Of course.

If I were good enough, you two wouldn't be living in a place like this." Dad's heart was breaking. He clumsily wiped Mom's tears. "This is all on me.

I shouldn't have said any of that." "Get some rest." The voices in the living room got quieter and quieter. But I couldn't fall asleep no matter what.

Everything from that day kept swirling around and around in my head. The sparkly lights. The lady as pretty as a princess.

And the man who looked exactly like Dad. "Paloma, what if the man at the auction today really was Dad?" On the way home, Mom had suddenly asked me that, out of nowhere.

I got really mad then. I said Dad was bad, Dad was a big liar! Paloma was never going to talk to Dad again. But now, I caught myself thinking something else.

If only Dad really did have three million dollars. Then he wouldn't have to deliver food in the rain every day. And Mom wouldn't be so sad all the time.

Maybe I could even go to school. The next day, before Dad left, he hugged Mom like always. "I got an advance on my pay from the dispatcher.

Go to the hospital this afternoon and book the procedure." Mom didn't answer.

But not long after Dad left, she took my hand and led me downstairs. "Paloma, let's go find Dad." "Isn't Dad out delivering food?" "That's right.

Let's go see where Dad's been delivering all this food." Mom crouched down and buttoned my coat with shaking hands.

Last night, while Dad was in the shower, she had put my GPS watch inside his insulated delivery box. Soon we followed the location to a tall building. Dad rode up on his old ebike.

A man in a black suit hurried over at once and greeted him respectfully. "Mr. Keaton." Dad handed him the ebike key.

He took off his delivery work jacket and put on a sharply pressed suit. Someone wiped the mud off his shoes and put a beautiful watch on his wrist.

A black stretch limo pulled up in front of him, and the driver opened the door. Dad ducked his head and got in. The whole time, not one person thought it was strange.

It was like this was the life he was always supposed to have. I tipped my head back and whispered to Mom, "Dad doesn't have to deliver food anymore?" Mom didn't answer.

She just took out her phone and took pictures of everything in front of us. We followed the car to a private medical center.

It wasn't like the little clinic I went to when I had a fever.

The air didn't have that yucky medicine smell, and there were lots of flowers in the hallways. "Are the results confirmed?" "Confirmed.

It's a boy." The one talking was the doctor who had examined Mom. He seemed to know Dad really well. "Jude, you've really gone all in this time.

Pretending to be poor is one thing, but you actually went and got a wife and a kid." "Back then, you and the Butler boy made a bet: who could go without the family money, live at rock bottom, and play poor the longest and the most convincingly." "Whoever lost would give up any claim to the old man's five percent stake." "We all figured you wouldn't last three months.

Who knew you'd keep pretending for six years?

Your daughter's already five." "If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I'd almost believe you really were a delivery guy." I didn't understand what a "stake" was, but I understood "pretend." So Dad had been playing a game with other people all along.

I looked up at Mom. I wanted to ask her why Dad had to pretend, but she seemed like she couldn't feel anything at all. Inside the room, Dad spoke again.

Chapter 4 "Paloma was an accident." "Lyddie was already five months along. It was too late to end it