He promised to attend her confirmation ceremony.
He never appeared.
Six years had passed since then.
Kaylee still had his phone number saved, but she hadn’t called it since middle school.
In her contacts, he was simply Ryan.
Not Dad.
Travis entered our lives when Kaylee was seven.
He worked selling seed corn and soybeans from a warehouse outside town. We met when he came into the dental clinic with a cracked molar.
For nearly two years, he scheduled regular appointments before finally gathering the courage to ask me to dinner.
Later, he admitted he sometimes booked his cleanings slightly earlier than necessary just to see me.
On our second date, he asked whether he could meet Kaylee.
“I don’t want to become part of your life unless your daughter feels comfortable with me,” he explained.
That meant more to me than any expensive gift.
When Travis first visited our house, Kaylee interviewed him at the kitchen table.
