Chapter 5
“And I win again.”
“You’re a pro at bingo. What can I say?” Claire met her dad’s high five.
His face had lit up. The deep laugh lines around his eyes crinkled further, and his silver hair caught the light. He raised his arms in mock gloating.
Parkinson’s and early dementia had stolen some of his spark, but moments like this reminded her he was still alert—mostly.
Letting him win was deliberate on her part.
She even fudged the game rules when he struggled.
But what mattered wasn’t the scoreboard.
It was keeping him engaged, his mind alert, and his spirit lifted.
Yesterday had been her victory at chess, and the day before, he’d won at checkers like he normally did at his favorite board game. From time to time, his friends in the senior living center initiated time to get together with him, but she would have to drop him off, which had been harder lately.
Across the coffee table, Bella let out a squeal from her bouncer, her tiny arms flailing. “Argh!” she babbled, and her face scrunched as her fingers grasped at the air.
“I need to use the washroom.” Dad pushed himself from his seat as the kitchen timer blared, signaling dinner was ready.
Claire sighed. The Bingo game’s paper cutouts littered the table. She’d have to clear the mess before bringing out his meal, but Bella’s high-pitched squeals escalated each second.
“Hold on, honey.” She swept up the bingo cards into a zip-top bag. Bella’s frustration reached a peak, her wails now dominating the room. The crumpled blanket and toys where Bella had been playing earlier tangled dangerously close to Dad’s oxygen tube.
Claire’s new routine was far from easy, even a week after officially becoming Bella’s guardian.
True to his word, Wade’s accountant had set up a spending account for Bella’s needs, which was a relief.
Still, juggling Dad’s medication schedule, keeping him engaged, and surviving Bella’s sleepless nights and Claire’s exhaustion remained an uphill battle.
“Ba! Ga!” Bella’s arms shot up, desperate to be picked up.
“Hold on, sweet child.” Claire couldn’t stuff the remaining game pieces in the bag fast enough. Giving up, she abandoned the mess, maneuvered around Dad’s oxygen cord, and scooped Bella up. An unmistakable odor hit her.
“Seriously?” She wrinkled her nose and hoisted Bella higher, feeling the sag of the heavy diaper beneath her pink pants. “Didn’t I just change you twenty minutes ago?”
Hopefully, changing a diaper would only take a moment. She scooted past the digital clock on the wall next to Dad’s recliner and the number 5:45. He’d need his medication in fifteen minutes, and she still had to get the casserole out of the oven.
In the bedroom, she laid Bella on the portable changing pad on the floor, wincing as she saw the redness on her bottom.
“You poor thing.” Claire shuddered. That had to be painful.
Albert had a cream for this, but she’d have to go into his room to get it.
Nope. Not happening. Better to order some from the grocery store and have it delivered tonight.
If Wade’s parents hadn’t sent gift cards in condolence, she wouldn’t have been able to afford a portable crib and all the new clothes and baby supplies she’d bought to last her till she could get into her brother’s room.
The doorbell rang. No way could she answer right now. Bella’s cries had tempered by the time Claire finished fastening her fresh diaper, dressed her in fluffy pink sweats, and bundled the dirty one for the trash outside.
As she cradled Bella in one arm and hurried toward the back door, the bell rang again, more insistent this time. Couldn’t whoever it was take a hint?
Claire dropped the diaper in the sealed bear-proof trash on the back porch, returned to the kitchen, and set Bella on the hardwood floor, where the baby fussed and rubbed tiny fists over her eyes, clearly still upset. Or tired.
“Let me wash my hands first, sweetheart.” Claire moved two plates to the side of the sink overflowing with dishes. She then washed her hands on the empty side. The doorbell rang yet again.
“Coming!” She wiped her hands on her jeans, her heart pounding with growing exhaustion. She shot a glance at the oven, remembering the casserole. But she couldn’t open it with Bella nearby.
Hefting Bella again, she grabbed a handful of puffy snacks from the container and handed her one before they moved toward the door. The treat distracted her, thank goodness.
Claire opened the door enough to glimpse a stocky woman with cropped blonde hair, dressed in a business blazer. The woman furrowed her brows and fiddled with her large dark handbag as if uncertain about being here.
“Sorry for the wait.” Claire swung the door open wide, then shifted Bella to her other hip.
“No problem at all.” The woman glanced at Bella, who was busy patting Claire’s shoulder, searching for another cheese puff. Claire handed her one, preparing to tell the woman she wasn’t interested in a sales pitch right now.
“Claire Khumalo?” The woman’s smile was like the chipped beads Claire meant to turn into jewelry. It didn’t set her at ease.
“Yes. That’s me.”
“Lauren Foster.” She extended a hand, then softened, her gaze settling on Bella. “And this must be Arabella.”
The pieces clicked before Lauren explained. “I’m the caseworker assigned to Arabella’s welfare.”
Of course. A caseworker. Claire’s stomach dropped. Why didn’t she call to make an appointment?
“May I come in, please?” Lauren peered past Claire into the house.
The mess inside screamed a thousand reasons why this was a bad time, but Claire managed a shaky reply. “Yes… please… come in.” She then stepped back and let Lauren walk past her.
Lauren’s gaze swept through the room, lingering on the family photos above the television stand where Claire and Albert as kids smiled from faded frames.
Then the photos of Albert and Sammy, a family photo with Claire and Albert and their parents, plus Wade.
And two photos of Bella. Even if Claire wanted to add another picture, that wall had no more room.
She took the woman into their house, younger than she’d expected for a caseworker. Late twenties, with the steely confidence of someone used to making judgments. Her gaze felt like a silent inventory, and Claire’s mind raced over all the ways she might come up short.
“You’re welcome to have a seat.” Claire gestured toward the sofa near Dad’s chair, scooped the bingo box from the sofa, and placed it next to the half-cleared bingo game.
Lauren’s gaze flicked to the board games on the floor.
“Would you like something to drink? Water, coffee?” Claire needed a diversion. However, coffee was out of the question given the current chaos.
“Thank you.” Lauren sat. Her assessing gaze zeroed in on where Dad’s oxygen cord trailed over the floor like a snake, tangled near Bella’s toys.
Bella’s squirming intensified on Claire’s hip, and she excused herself to fetch the baby’s food. She was out of the regular baby food save for the oatmeal.
When she returned, dragging Bella’s high chair into the living room, Lauren had her tablet open, stylus in hand.
Claire settled Bella in the high chair, her niece clapping impatiently as Claire fastened the straps.
Once she had Bella situated, she popped open the baby food jar and started feeding her.
She couldn’t be fast enough for Bella, who squirmed and let out frustrated squeals, her little mouth opening and closing like a baby bird’s.
“So, how’s Bella sleeping these days?” Lauren asked, stylus poised.
Claire paused midscoop. “She wakes up two or three times a night, sometimes more.”
Lauren nodded. “And you’ve been living with her since she was born?”
“Yes.”
Bella slapped the spoon in Claire’s hand, and it fell on her feeding tray. Claire stifled a chuckle when Bella grasped the creamy residue from the tray and lifted it to her mouth. She needed a wipe handy for those smudgy fingers, but that could wait until after she answered Lauren’s questions.
“Did she sleep well when her father was around?” Lauren’s voice pulled her back, and the woman’s gaze flicked up from her tablet.
“Usually, yes.” At the invasiveness in Lauren’s questions, a weight crept in.
“And you’re prepared to continue as her guardian?”
“Of course.” What other choice did Bella have?
Lauren’s questions kept coming, touching on everything from Bella’s routines to Wade’s involvement.
Not knowing what Lauren was looking for, Claire stuck to honesty, though she made a point to mention Wade had been in contact, mostly financially, as he’d set up an account for Bella’s needs.
He hadn’t once asked to see a picture of Bella or inquired beyond the basics.
It stung. Maybe Lauren could see that, or maybe it didn’t matter.
Just then, Dad shuffled into the room, gripping his walker with his usual unsteady hands. His gaze landed on Lauren, and the lines on his face deepened.
“Dad, this is Lauren.”
He frowned. A spark flashed in his eyes. “Lauren… you and Paulie used to draw together, didn’t you?”
“Dad.” Claire’s chest constricted. “This is a different Lauren. Mom’s friend was Lori.” The closeness of the names could be confusing. “Lauren is here to check in on Bella. To make sure we’re taking good care of her.”
The confusion cleared, and his voice emerged firm. “We’re Bella’s family. Why does a stranger have to decide—”
“It’s okay, Dad.” Claire smiled to assure Dad he had nothing to worry about.
He maneuvered the walker forward, but it caught on the blanket and oxygen cord.
She lunged to untangle it before he tripped, her heart pounding as Bella’s tiny voice echoed with a grumbled squeal, hands stretched out for more food.