Chapter 24 Grandpa Kinks Emmett #2
She opens the door, gesturing for me to go ahead of her.
“I think what you’re doing is great. Hanging back and letting him have time with Emmett, but popping in every once in a while, talking to him with Emmett there so he knows you’re a safe person.
And coming today, on your own. It lets him know you’re thinking about him. That you’re a friend too.
“The thing about kids is that they have no other choice than to trust the adults in their lives, even when those adults don’t deserve it.
Kids quite literally rely on their adults to keep them alive.
Eventually, though, they begin to learn that keeping them alive doesn’t necessarily mean keeping them safe.
Abel found a sense of safety in Emmett, and he’s chosen to cling to that.
Isn’t it wild what a gesture as simple as sharing your hat with someone in the dead of winter can do?
” Emily squeezes my shoulder. “Give him a moment, some time to find that sense of safety. I think you’ll find he opens up to you the same way he does with Emmett. ”
I hope so, but I can’t pretend there isn’t a pang in my chest when that little boy looks up from his puzzle, face lighting when he spies me, only for that excitement to be wiped clean off his face when he realizes Emmett isn’t with me.
Still, when I walk by him, my hand led by a couple of girls who want me to play nail salon with them, I smile at him.
“Hi, Abel.”
He clutches his Vipers teddy to his chest, Emmett’s hat dipping below one eye. “Emmett?” he whispers.
“Not today, sweetheart. He’s in Chicago for a hockey game.”
His face falls. “Oh.”
“He did tell me to tell you that he’d wave to the camera tonight, just for you.”
Abel grins. “Really?”
“Mhmm. Since he couldn’t say hi in person.”
Pink heat pools in his cheeks, and he looks up at me for a moment, like he wants to say something. Instead, he tucks his puzzle away, even though it’s not finished, and finds a spot to curl up in the cozy armchair I first spotted him in.
And he watches me. Subtly, at first, stolen glances he tries to hide behind his teddy, and then flushed cheeks when I catch him and he whips his head the other way.
Until, finally, the sweet boy is sprawled over the arm of the chair, giggling at me every time I put on an Academy Award–winning performance of utter shock every ten seconds when I catch him watching me.
When I’m done playing nail salon, I busy myself with cleaning up someone else’s mess left at the bookshelf, because I have no idea what to do next. Can I go over there? Ask to sit with him, to talk with him? Am I going to scare him off? Should I let him come to me?
I glance around the room, locating Emily. She’ll know what to do.
But just as I turn around, prepared to climb to my feet and chase after her, I come face-to-face with mussed copper waves, a hat that’s barely hanging on, jade eyes, and a bashful grin.
“Hi, Abel,” I say with a smile.
He twists back and forth, playing with his teddy, gaze bouncing between me and the bookshelves.
“I was just picking a book to read,” I tell him. “Do you think you could help me?”
He nods, inching by me, fingers drifting over the books before he selects Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.
“One of my favorites.” I stand, looking at the couch. “Do you want to read it with me?”
Another nod, and then he steps forward and… tucks his hand into mine.
It’s silly, how such a small thing, his tiny fingers wrapped around mine, has my head…
quieting. The voices are there still, the ones I’m committed to silencing, but they’re not…
roaring. For the first time in so long, my thoughts feel…
manageable. And I can’t find the words to explain what that means to me.
As I head for the couch, Abel tugs on my hand, pulling me in another direction, toward his chair.
Hugging the book to his chest, he looks at the old, comfy seat, then back to me.
I sink down to it, hoping I’m not misunderstanding, and when Abel carefully climbs up onto my lap, settling himself against my chest, I truly cannot explain the sudden urge to cry.
I just feel… I don’t know. Lucky, maybe.
Worthy. Abel’s choosing me. What have I done to deserve that?
Looking down at the cover, I smile. It’s my favorite illustration of this nursery rhyme, and I trace the little girl sitting on the crescent moon, surrounded by glittering constellations. I open the book, ready to start, but a quiet voice stops me.
“You is Emmett’s Cara.”
“That’s right,” I tell Abel. “My name is Cara. Emmett is my husband.”
He pats the beanie on his head, sending it down over his eyes. “Emmett gived me this hat.”
I snicker, shifting the beanie back up. “Oh, there you are! I thought I lost you for a second.”
He giggles, and when his nose scrunches, I die on the inside. “I’m ’dis many,” he tells me, holding up three fingers. “Do you know how many ’dis is?”
“Hmm, let’s see. Could you help me count?”
He nods, and I tap one tiny finger, then the other, counting slowly. On the third finger, he calls out, “Twee! I’m twee years old, but—” He shrugs, palms up. “—I is gonna be four soon, did you know?”
“Four? No way!”
“Yep, and guess what?” He twists on his knees to face me, crossing his arms over his chest, brows high. “It’s something really cool.”
“What is it?”
He leans closer, until our foreheads are nearly touching. “When I is four, I won’t be twee no more. Because—because… because when I was a baby, I was twee, but when I’m a big, biiig adult, I will be four.”
“You’re growing so fast. Do you know how old I’ll be this year?”
He nods, eyes wide. With all the certainty in the world, he tells me, “Seven.”
Taking his face in my hands, I match his wide eyes with my own and say, “Twenty-nine.”
Abel gasps. “Is you a gwandma?”
Emily snickers from across the room. “Grandpa’s gonna love that,” she murmurs, winking at me, and I know she’s talking about Emmett.
“I’m not a grandma,” I tell him.
“Oh. That’s good.” He settles back against my chest, laying his cheek over my heart.
“I hab a gwandma, but I hab to call her Elizabef. She is not very nice to me or to m-m-my Catharine.” He smiles up at me then, bleary green eyes that don’t show an ounce of the dislike I feel for a woman I’ve never met. “Can you read to me now, Cara? Please?”
I do, of course. I read it once, then twice, Abel’s finger tracing the stars on each page.
I start a third time, per his request, but this time he keeps his eyes on me while I read, watching me with a sleepy, dazed smile I can barely tear my eyes from.
And when I close the book for the third time, I’m grateful I have nowhere to be—I couldn’t bear to wake the sweet boy sleeping peacefully on my chest.
Emily stops on her way by us, doing a double take. “Oh my God.”
“What? Is this not allowed? Is this not okay?” Panic bubbles in my chest. “I’m sorry. We were reading, and he just—”
“Abel’s refused a nap every single day he’s been here. We’ve all tried, so hard, but no matter what…” She trails off, blue gaze coming to mine, and she smiles. “See? I told you. Give him a minute; he’ll find safety with you.”
Is that what this is? Does Abel feel… safe with me? The thought alone is staggering, that somebody so innocent could find safety and comfort with me, when I haven’t been able to find it in myself for so long.
Maybe that’s why I tell her, “I think you’re giving me credit where credit isn’t due.”
Emily blinks at me. Juts her hip. Raises a brow. “So, hey.” She takes a seat across from me, propping her chin on her hip, grinning. “Why don’t we chat?”
I chuckle, dropping my head. “Uh-oh. I’ve activated shrink mode.
” Emily’s a child psychologist, and she runs her own center dedicated to helping children and teens overcome trauma.
She also spends several hours a week working with the kids at Second Chance Home at no charge. “I thought I was safe. I’m an adult.”
“A grandma, according to some.” She smiles when I laugh. “Do you wanna do this the hard way or the easy way?”
“Hard for me or for you?”
“Truthfully, all ways are easy for me.”
“The easy way, then. For me. I… I don’t know. It’s just not been that easy, admitting how defeating the fertility stuff has been.”
She nods, thinks for a moment, and then says, “Hey, I didn’t know you and Emmett were foster parents.”
“I—” I blink at her, not sure what to say. “We’re… not.”
“You did the training. About a year ago now, according to the records I saw. So, technically, you are, whether you have kids in your care or not.”
“Yeah, but we’re not… Are you suggesting… Because we wouldn’t… We’d be shit at it.”
Emily cocks her head. “Would you? Why did you do the training?”
“Because there are people in our lives who are important to us who have spent time in the foster system and whose lives have been impacted by it.” Like Adam, when he was five.
And Rosie, from the time her parents died when she was twelve, all the way to when she aged out of the system.
And Lily, their daughter, who they adopted last spring.
It almost felt irresponsible of us not to, knowing what we know.
“I’m not sure I have it in me,” I admit on a whisper.
“I know how important a foster parent is. A safe adult to talk to, a safe place to call home during the time a child needs it most. But…” I look at the sleeping boy in my lap, and without thinking, my hand goes to his head, fingers sifting through his waves as I try to swallow the tightness in my throat.
“I’d fall in love. And then I’d have to say goodbye.
” Eyes on the ceiling, I blink back the tears stinging my eyes. “I am… so tired of saying goodbye.”
A single tear works its way out, rolling down my cheek. I swat it away, furious with myself for losing control again.