"Richard Waters," the large burly man said, looking up from his compact rental car. "I understand my daughter Graceful is here."

"I'm sorry, sir, but you're not on the approved list," she said. "You're her father?"

"Yes. I'm allowed visitation. I have a copy of the custody order." He held out a paper, worn along the folds. The blonde woman took the paper, looking it over before handing it back.

"Please wait here," she said, waving at the dark-haired woman to come over. He rubbed his short beard while the two women talked. The blonde woman returned. "Pull over to that building. Instructor Carey will meet you there."

"Thank you," he said, putting the car in gear. He pulled into the lot and parked his car, getting out when the dark haired woman approached. "Hello, I'm Richard Waters," he said, holding out his hand.

"Instructor Joanna Carey," she said. "Come inside please." She opened the door but he refused to move.

"Ladies first," he said. Carey gave a slight nod, then led him to her office.

"Please have a seat," she said, setting her hat on the hook and running her fingers through her short black hair. "I'm afraid we had no notice of your arrival," she said. "Usually all visitations are pre-approved."

"I wasn't sure I'd make it and no one told me about having to get permission first," he said. "Can you at least tell me if she's all right?"

"She's fine," Carey said. "I'm Grace's mentor as well as head instructor here. I understand you haven't seen her in many years."

He looked down. "That's true," he admitted, scratching the short blond beard. "It's been just about ten years now." He looked up. "But that's still a valid visitation order."

"I'm going to check on that," Carey said, opening the bottom drawer and pulling out Grace's folder. "Do you have identification, by the way?"

"Oh sure," he said, pulling a thick wallet from his back pocket. "Do you want my phone number there, too?"

"I think that would be a good idea," she said, pushing a piece of paper and pen across the desk.

"Here's my driver's license," he said, holding the fat wallet open.

Carey glanced at the identification but what caught her attention was the thick fanfold strip of photos.

"Are these all Grace?" she asked, the top picture showing a young girl sitting on the steps, her blonde hair shining in the sun.

"That's her," he said, taking the wallet back. "And this one..." He tapped the next photo. "She always looked so pretty in that dress."

"She looks about six or seven," Carey said.

"Ayup," he said. "She would have been six and a half when I took that picture." He scratched his beard and closed his wallet. "The last time I saw her she had pigtails and scabbed knees."

"That was a long time ago," she said, closing the folder.

"I know," he said. "Listen, here's my calling card number too, in case she needs to call me for anything." He wrote a long series of numbers on the paper.

"If I can ask, why now?"

"I didn't know where she was before this," he said. "I received a notice from the court that my support payments were being diverted to the state and so I called to find out why. They just told me she was here and that the third Sunday of the month was the only time for visits so I hopped on the first plane I could find and headed out."

"How could you not know?"

"I have a vindictive ex-wife," he said, leaning back in his seat, his bulky frame filling the whole seat. "She kept moving and not letting me know, and when I complained she went back to court and made up lies to get a restraining order. That allowed her to get her address sealed from me. It didn't help that I lived on the other side of the country."

Carey looked over the court document, verifying the visitation order had not been superseded by the state's custody order. "You're right," she said. "Living so far away probably didn't help. Everything is in order here. I'll take you to one of the rooms and have Grace brought to you."

"Miss Carey? Can you tell me something about her?" He looked away. "I mean, is this place going to help her?"

Carey stood up, causing him to rise as well. "Mr. Waters, Grace is an intelligent young woman who needs discipline, guidance, and a great deal of love and support. Everything else I think you can ask her about."

He rubbed his hands together. "What if she doesn't want to see me?"

Carey walked to the door. "Unfortunately, that's a chance you're just going to have to take. As I said, she needs a great deal of love. I don't think she'll turn away an opportunity to get that love."

Grace entered the rec room, spotting Jan sitting near the window.

"Bowen, you up for ping pong?"

"Sure," Jan said, rising from the chair and joining her at the table.

"No visitors either, huh?"

Grace shook her head. "No. I didn't figure she'd come back after last time." She handed the other teen a paddle. "You serve."

"My dad's given up on me, I think," Jan said as she took her side. "Zero serving zero."

Grace snorted, then returned the serve. "Mine gave up a long time ago," she said. "I haven't seen him since I was...damn." Picking the ball up off the floor, she tossed it over the small net. "Lucky shot."

"Luck nothing, Waters. One serving zero."

"Anyway, I haven't seen him since I was a kid. Aha!"

"Now that was luck," Jan said, tossing the ball to her. "I wish I hadn't seen mine since I was a kid. He's a real prick. Thinks I'm going to have an eight o'clock curfew. I'm seventeen, for Christ's sake."

"One serving one. The problem is they can't remember what it was like when they were our age." They volleyed several times before Grace failed to make the cross shot. "Shit. That's the problem, you know. They forget what it's like."

There was a knock on the wall. "Waters." Instructor Donaldson stood in the doorway. "You have a visitor."

"I don't want to see her, ma'am," Grace said, motioning for Jan to throw her the ping pong ball.

"Funny, I don't remember asking," the tall blonde said. "Move it, Waters."

Grace set the paddle and ball on the table. "Yes, ma'am. See you later, Jan."

"Good luck," Jan replied.

Grace expected to see her mother waiting for her when she entered the room. "Excuse me, I must have the wrong room," she said when she saw the man sitting at the instructor's desk.

"Graceful?" He had aged, his hair no longer the thick blonde that she remembered but now thin and receding. Still, there was no mistaking the blue eyes looking back at her so much like her own.

"Daddy? H-how?" Shocked, she allowed herself to be engulfed in his lumberjack arms. The short beard that tickled her cheek and the smell of his cologne resurrected memories long ago forgotten.

"My little pumpkin," he said, his deep baritone voice still the same as she remembered. "Let me take a look at you." He held her at arm's length, his smile as wide as it could be. "Look how pretty you've become."

"How did you know where I was?" she asked, thinking he used to seem so much taller than he did now. Of course, she was much shorter then. "Did you talk to Ma?”

"No," he said. "I got a notice from the state saying they were taking your child support so I called to find out why. I have to tell you I damn near fell out of my chair when I found out." He squeezed her shoulders. "Are you doing okay here?"

"I'm surviving," Grace said, backing away from him and sliding into the nearest desk chair. "Ma told me she had no idea where to look for you except that she thought you might have been in Alaska."

"She knew where your grandparents lived," he said. "They knew where I was. The courts knew where I was because they sure enough took child support from me." He shook his head. "That's neither here nor there now."

Now that the shock was wearing off, question after question formed in her mind. "Why didn't you ever come see me?"

He pulled the teacher's chair out from behind the desk and sat down next to her. "I don't have a good answer for that, pumpkin. Your mother and me were fighting so hard and every time I came to see you we'd get into a fight and after a while it was just easier to stay away. Then I got the job in Anchorage and even though it was far away, the higher pay was enough for me to live on and still pay my child support." He took his hand in hers, his callused fingers rubbing over her knuckles. "I thought I'd do it for just a few years and save up enough money to afford to come back but-I'm sorry, Grace. I love you very much and I never meant to hurt you."

"You didn't try hard enough," Grace said, the little girl's pain flaring inside. "All I know is one day you were gone and you never came back. You didn't come back for my birthday, you didn't come back for Christmas, you just disappeared and forgot all about me."

"I never forgot about you," he said. "You know what?" He reached back and pulled out a thick leather wallet from his rear pocket. "Look." Opening it up, he showed her the photo section filled with various pictures of her as a, little girl. "I carried these with me because they were all I had of you."

"Why didn't you take me with you?"

"It wasn't for lack of trying," he said. "I went to court against your mother half a dozen times and she kept coming up with lies to keep me from getting anything more than minimal visitation."

Grace stared at their intertwined hands, remembering the poison her mother used to spew about her father when they were going through their divorce. "I wish you had won," she said sadly. "Ma got involved with a lot of assholes after you left."