Dad Came Back from a Deserted Island – Chapter 19

Author: isuzuuy

There was one thing they needed to know first before deciding on Jean’s birthday present.

“Do you know what Lord Lambert likes most?”

“Me! Daddy likes me the most!”

“Ugh, you’re so cute…”

Anne had to clutch her chest once again at Vivian’s completely unquestioning, confident answer.

‘Lord Lambert would probably be happy just from hearing his daughter wish him a happy birthday…’

Anne hadn’t been at House Lambert for very long, but she already knew that Jean was hopelessly devoted to his daughter. In fact, she had realized what a doting father he was during the brief interview before she even arrived.

Still, she couldn’t bring herself to disappoint a little girl who wanted to give her father a birthday present.

“That’s true! Lord Lambert loves you more than anyone in the world. Hmm, but you don’t just want to wish him a happy birthday, do you?”

“Mm-hmm! I want to give him something else. Something definitely better than the picture Peter gave him!”

Who was Peter?

Anne didn’t ask. As someone experienced with children, she knew that wasn’t important right now.

“Hmm. What would be good? Shall we go over there and talk about it?”

The two secretly moved to Anne’s room and began their serious meeting.

It was a rather trivial matter to call a meeting, but to Vivian, it was the most important thing in the world. Both of them approached it with utmost seriousness.

“All right, let’s think about what would make a good present! It’s not too late yet. Should I go to Belouang?”

Anne was even prepared to spend her own pocket money. She could consider it part of preparing the birthday present herself, and since Jean paid her considerably more generously than most employers, she didn’t mind spending it.

Vivian’s fluffy, cotton-candy-like hair swayed from side to side as she shook her head.

“Mmm-mm. Then it wouldn’t be something I gave Daddy. You’d be buying everything for me. And I don’t have any money to buy Daddy a present anyway.”

“Ahh.”

Anne understood what Vivian meant and nodded.

“Then… we need to think of something you can make or do yourself. I have an idea. How about this?”

Anne leaned toward Vivian’s ear and whispered, even though there was no one around to overhear them.

As Vivian listened quietly, her eyes grew wider and wider.

***

“Oh dear, I’m late. My princess must be hungry.”

The next day, Jean returned home from Belouang after taking care of some business.

He hurried home because he had decided to prepare dinner himself rather than ask Anne to do it, and he was worried Vivian’s meal would end up being too late.

He had completely forgotten that today was his birthday.

“Something I can make quickly would be… Huh?”

He tossed his outer coat into his room and hurried toward the kitchen, only to be greeted by the delicious smell of food.

Had Anne prepared dinner because he was late?

“Ah, Miss Anne. I’m sorry for making you prepare the mea—”

The scene waiting for Jean was completely unexpected.

The table was covered with food, and Vivian came running toward him.

She wrapped both arms tightly around his leg and exclaimed,

“Daddy! Happy birthday!”

“B-Birthday?”

“Yeah! It’s Daddy’s birthday today. Didn’t you know?”

He hadn’t.

When he had lost his memories, he hadn’t known when his birthday was and never celebrated it. After his memories returned, he had been far too busy to think about birthdays.

It had been more than ten years since Jean had last celebrated his birthday, so it was understandable that he had forgotten about it.

Only after hearing the word “birthday” did he remember that it was around this time of year.

“How did you know it was my birthday…?”

“Of course I know! It’s Daddy’s birthday!”

Jean’s nose was already beginning to sting. Fighting back tears, he picked up Vivian, who was clinging to his leg, and carried her toward the table.

“Hehe, Daddy. Look at that! Anne helped me make it!”

Where Vivian pointed was a cake.

Fruit had been arranged somewhat clumsily over the whipped-cream cake, making it immediately obvious where Vivian’s hands had been involved.

“And, and!”

Vivian squirmed as if asking to be put down. The moment her feet touched the floor, she ran to Anne and returned carrying something.

It was a picture frame almost as large as her torso.

Vivian waddled toward Jean with the frame turned backward so he couldn’t see what was inside. Jean anxiously watched, worried she might trip.

A seven-year-old normally wasn’t so unsteady that she would easily fall while walking, but a father’s heart was different.

He couldn’t help worrying when Vivian’s small frame had barely changed since she was five, a clear reminder of how little she had been able to eat while he was gone.

Fortunately—and naturally—Vivian reached Jean without falling and proudly held out the frame.

“This too! I drew this myself!”

“You drew it yourself…?”

Jean turned the frame around with a pounding heart.

Inside was a picture drawn with clumsy lines.

Had there even been crayons in the house?

Something was colored pink, while something else was colored brown.

Vivian clearly had no talent for drawing.

The abstract shapes didn’t look remotely like people, but Jean immediately understood what they were.

“It’s our princess and Daddy!”

“Yep! That’s right!”

“Our Vivi… You drew this to wish Daddy a happy birthday, and—”

He was so moved that he could barely speak.

Jean sniffled as he gently ran his hand over the picture. If there hadn’t been glass between them, Vivian’s drawing would already have been smeared with his tears.

But that wasn’t all Vivian had prepared today.

As though determined to dry up every last one of Jean’s tears, Vivian pulled him toward a chair and made him sit before taking something from Anne.

She stood in front of him with an extremely nervous expression.

“My lady, don’t be so nervous. Just do it the way you practiced!”

Anne watched from behind with a pleased smile. She had absolutely no regrets about the extra work. Watching a handsome, delicate-looking man like Jean make all sorts of expressions while crying was entertainment enough.

What else had Vivian prepared?

Jean wiped away his tears with his sleeve and straightened his posture.

He didn’t know what she had planned, but he intended to take in every second of it.

Vivian pulled out a blade of grass.

‘Grass?’

Only when she brought it to her lips did Jean remember.

Vivian had told him she was learning to play the grass flute from Anne and had been practicing right up until bedtime.

Her little lips drew in a deep breath.

Then a familiar melody began to play.

The performance could hardly be called flawless.

It wasn’t a proper instrument in the first place—grass could hardly even be considered an instrument—and Vivian had only been learning for a short time. Her pitch went off here and there, and the rhythm occasionally faltered.

But to Jean, it was a melody from heaven.

Even if an angel had descended from the heavens to play for him personally, it could never have sounded sweeter than this.

“Phew—! I-I’m done. Sniff. I made more mistakes than I did when I practiced.”

The moment she finished, Vivian lowered her head dejectedly.

Jean immediately scooped her into his arms.

“Were there mistakes? Daddy didn’t notice any.”

“Liar.”

“No, really. The fact that our Vivi remembered Daddy’s birthday even though I had forgotten it myself and prepared all this for me…”

His nose stung again, and Jean could no longer continue. He buried his face in his daughter’s shoulder.

‘I haven’t done anything for you.’

He was the man who had left her alone for years, leaving her to suffer, starve, become ill, and eventually die.

Even though none of that had happened in this timeline, Jean would have to carry that guilt for the rest of his life.

“For someone like me to be your daddy…”

Just imagining Vivian, with that little head of hers, remembering his birthday and wondering how she could make him happy filled his chest with an emotion far too overwhelming to describe as simply being touched.

Jean could do nothing but hold Vivian tightly and cry for a long while.

***

Darkness had settled over the bedroom.

Jean sat beside the bed, gently stroking Vivian’s pink hair as she slept peacefully.

It was almost identical to the hair of his wife, who had passed away long ago.

Hiring a painter to create a portrait wasn’t particularly expensive, especially in a rural village like this.

That was why Jean had never had a portrait of his wife made.

The reason he had commissioned portraits of himself and Vivian was because he bitterly regretted not having one of his wife after she was gone.

On nights like this, he wished he could at least look at her face in a painting.

But her features were gradually becoming harder and harder to remember.

“Rosalyn, Vivian wished me a happy birthday today. Isn’t that amazing? When did she grow up so much?”

How happy would his wife have been if she had been there today?