Chapter 15 #2
Both girls were far too involved in the program to be easily distracted by adult conversation.
“Sometimes mommies and daddies like to make believe, and while they don’t mean to lie, they can mislead their children,” he
went on.
Zoe briefly tore her gaze away from the television screen. “Like Santa, you mean?”
Wynn smiled. “Like Santa,” he agreed.
“We know he’s not real,” Zoe informed them with all the wisdom of a five-year-old.
“Santa is really Mommy and Daddy,” Zara explained. “Everyone knows that.”
“They do?”
Both girls nodded.
Zoe’s eyes turned serious. “We heard Mommy and Daddy fighting about Santa and we almost told them it doesn’t matter ’cause
we already know.”
“We like getting gifts from him, though,” Zara told them.
“Yeah, I like Santa,” Zoe added.
“But he’s not real,” Wynn said, sounding perfectly logical.
“Mommy’s real,” Zara argued. “And Daddy, too.”
“Yes, but . . .” Wynn seemed determined to argue further, but stopped when he happened to glance at K.O. He held her gaze
a moment before looking away.
K.O. did her best to keep quiet, but apparently Wynn realized how difficult that was, because he clammed up fast enough.
The next time she looked at the twins, Zara had slumped over to one side, eyes drooping. K.O. gently shook the little girl’s
shoulders but Zara didn’t respond. Still fearing she might have given one twin a double dose of the antibiotic, she knelt
down in front of the other child.
“Zoe,” she asked, struggling to keep the panic out of her voice. “Did you get your medicine or did Zara swallow both doses?”
Zoe grinned and pantomimed zipping her mouth closed.
“Zoe,” K.O. said again. “This is important. We can’t play games when medicine is involved.” So much for Wynn’s theory that
children instinctively knew when it was necessary to tell the truth.
“Zara likes the taste better’n me.”
“Did you take your medicine or did Zara take it for you?” Wynn asked.
Zoe smiled and shook her head, indicating that she wasn’t telling.
Zara snored, punctuating the conversation.
“Did you or did you not take your medicine?” Wynn demanded, nearly yelling.
Tears welled in Zoe’s eyes. She buried her face in K.O.’s lap and refused to answer Wynn.
“This isn’t a joke,” he muttered, clearly losing his patience with the twins.
“Zoe,” K.O. cautioned. “You heard Dr. Jeffries. It’s important for us to know if you took your medication.”
The little girl raised her head, then slowly nodded. “It tastes bad, but I swallowed it all down.”
“Good.” Relief flooded K.O. “Thank you for telling the truth.”
“I don’t like your friend,” she said, sticking her tongue out at Wynn. “He yells.”
“I only yelled because . . . you made me,” Wynn countered. He marched to the far side of the room, and K.O. reflected that
he didn’t sound so calm and reasonable anymore.
“Why don’t we all play a game?” she suggested.
Zara raised her head sleepily from the sofa edge. “Can we play Old Maid?” she asked, yawning.
“I want to play Candyland,” Zoe mumbled.
“Why don’t we play both?” K.O. said, and they did. In fact, they played for two hours straight, watched television and then
drank hot chocolate.
“Shall we take a bath now?” K.O. asked, hoping that would tire the girls out enough to want to go to bed. She didn’t know
where they got their stamina, but her own was fading rapidly.
The twins were eager to do something altogether different and instantly raced out of the room.
Wynn looked like he could use a break—and he hadn’t even seen them at their most challenging. All in all, the girls were exhibiting
good behavior, or what passed for good in the regime of the Free Child.
“I’ll run the bath water,” K.O. told Wynn as he gathered up the cards and game pieces. Had she been on her own, K.O. would
have insisted the twins pick up after themselves.
While the girls were occupied in their bedroom, she put on a Christmas CD she particularly liked and started the bath. When she glanced into the living room, she saw Wynn collapsed on the sofa, legs stretched out.
“It hasn’t been so bad,” he said, as though that was proof his theories were working well. “As soon as the twins are down,
we can talk,” he murmured, “about us . . .”
K.O. wasn’t ready for that, feeling he should spend more time with the girls. She felt honor-bound to remind Wynn of what
he’d written in his book. “Didn’t you say that children know when they need sleep and we as adults should trust them to set
their own schedules?”
He seemed about to argue with her, but then abruptly sat up and pointed across the room. “What’s that?”
A naked dog strolled into the living room. Rather, a hairless dog.
“Zero? Zorro?” K.O. asked. “Oh, my goodness!” She dashed into the bathroom to discover Zara sitting on the floor with Wynn’s
electric shaver. A pile of brown-and-black dog hair littered the area.
“What happened?” Wynn cried, hard on her heels. His mouth fell open when he saw the girls intent on their task. They’d gone
through his toiletries, which were spread across the countertop next to the sink. K.O. realized that the hum of the shaver
had been concealed by the melodious strains of “Silent Night.” “What are you doing?”
“We’re giving haircuts,” Zara announced. “Do you want one?”