Chapter 10 #2
As I pour batter onto the hot surface, I feel Matthew's hand steadying me. Trenton catches my eye across the kitchen, his expression warm. And Charlie chatters happily about castles and princesses.
The sound of the doorbell cuts through our morning ritual. I exchange a look with Matthew, who immediately moves to the window while Trenton positions himself between Charlie and the door.
"It's my parents," I say, recognizing my father's truck through the window. "They must have come to meet Charlie."
Relief washes over me. While I'd been expecting their visit, I hadn't realized how much I needed to see them until this moment.
"I'll get it," Trenton says, keeping his voice light for Charlie's sake. "Finish your breakfast, kiddo."
I move to the sink, rinsing my hands before drying them on a towel. Charlie watches me with curious eyes, a smear of chocolate on her cheek.
"Who's here?" she asks, her fork paused halfway to her mouth.
"Just my mom and dad," I explain, keeping my tone casual. "They've been wanting to meet you."
I hear my mother's voice before I see her. "Morgan! We brought some things for the little one."
When I round the corner into the living room, my parents are standing in the entryway, my mother clutching a gift bag with bright pink tissue paper while my father holds a stuffed dog under one arm. The sight makes my eyes sting with unexpected tears.
"Mom, Dad," I say, moving forward to hug them both. "Thanks for coming."
"We've been worried sick," my mother whispers against my hair, her arms tight around me. "Your father told us everything."
I pull back, gesturing toward the kitchen. "She's eating breakfast. We've told her about you."
My father's face softens in a way I haven't seen since I was a child. "Good. That's good."
In the kitchen, Charlie has abandoned her pancakes to peer around Trenton's legs, curiosity overcoming shyness. When she sees us, she straightens, her small shoulders squaring like she's preparing for inspection.
"Charlie," I say, moving to her side. "These are my parents, Isaac and Emily. Mom, Dad, this is Charlie."
My mother approaches slowly, her smile warm but careful. "Hello, Charlie. I've heard so much about you."
"From Ms. Morgan?" Charlie asks, her eyes darting to me.
"Yes," my mother confirms. "She says you're very brave."
Charlie's cheeks flush with pleasure. "I try to be."
My father steps forward, holding out a stuffed dog. "We brought you something. If that's okay?"
Charlie looks to me for permission, and I nod encouragingly. She takes the dog carefully, holding it to her chest. "Thank you, Mr. Isaac."
"Just Isaac is fine," he says, his normally gruff voice gentle. "And this is Emily."
Emily crouches down to Charlie's level. "We're so glad to meet you, Charlie. Morgan has been telling us what a special girl you are."
Charlie's smile widens. "Ms. Morgan makes magic pancakes."
"Does she now?" My father's eyes crinkle at the corners. "I haven't had those in years."
"Would you like some?" Matthew asks from his position at the stove. "There's plenty."
As my parents settle at the table, accepting cups of coffee from Trenton, I watch Charlie watching them. She's cautious but curious, drawn to their warmth despite her history.
"Charlie," I say, taking the seat beside her, "my parents wanted to check on us after everything that's happened. They care about you too."
My mother reaches into the gift bag, pulling out a small, wrapped package. "We thought you might like this. It's a journal, so you can write down your thoughts. Or draw pictures, if you prefer."
Charlie accepts the gift with careful hands, unwrapping it to reveal a leather-bound book with gold-edged pages. "It's beautiful," she whispers.
"If you need anything," my father says, his eyes finding mine over Charlie's head, "anything at all, you call us. We're just a short drive away."
The weight of his words settles over me. This isn't just a visit, it's a commitment. They're extending their protection to Charlie, making her part of our family without question.
"Would you like to see my new room?" Charlie asks suddenly, looking between my parents. "I have lots of stuffed animals now."
My mother's face brightens. "We'd love that."
As Charlie leads my parents upstairs, chattering about her animal kingdom and Princess Sparklehoof, Matthew moves to stand beside me, his hand finding my back.
My parents and Charlie descend the stairs, their voices animated. Charlie is clutching the stuffed dog my father brought, her expression more relaxed than I've seen since we found her.
"Ms. Morgan," she calls when she spots me, "Isaac says he can teach me how to fish!"
I raise an eyebrow at my father, who shrugs unapologetically. "What? Every kid should know how to fish."
"The pond behind our house has bluegills," my mother explains. "Perfect for beginners."
Charlie looks between us, hope shining in her eyes. "Can I? Please?"
The normalcy of the request, of fishing lessons from my father, feels like a miracle after everything she's been through. It's exactly what she needs: connections, experiences, a life beyond fear.
"Of course you can," I tell her, my voice thick. "As soon as it's safe."
"I made cookies," my mother announces, breaking the tension. "Chocolate chip. Charlie helped me choose the recipe."
Charlie nods eagerly. "They're the best kind."
As we move to the kitchen, I watch my parents with Charlie, noticing how they include her naturally, how they treat her with the same gentle authority they used with me as a child. It's exactly what she needs, adults who care, set boundaries, and who offer unconditional love.
"Morgan," my mother says quietly when we have a moment alone, "you know we support you in this. Whatever you decide."
I nod, swallowing hard. "We want to keep her, Mom. All three of us."
She smiles, her eyes shining. "I know. And you should. She needs you."
As the morning stretches on, filled with cookies and stories and plans for fishing trips, I watch Charlie blossom under my parents' attention. She's still cautious, still carries the shadows of her past, but there's light in her eyes now that wasn't there before.
When it's time for my parents to leave, Charlie hugs them both without hesitation.
"Will you come back soon?" she asks, her small voice hopeful.
"Whenever you want," my father promises, his hand gentle on her shoulder.
As they drive away, Charlie waves from the porch between Trenton and me, her small hand raised high.
"They're nice," she says when they're gone, turning to look up at me. "They're not like my dad."
The words hit me with unexpected force. I crouch down to her level, taking her hands in mine. "No, they're not. And you know what? You get to have lots of different kinds of people who care about you. That's what family is."
She nods slowly, considering this. "Family is people who keep you safe."
"Yes," I agree, my voice steady despite the emotion threatening to overwhelm me. "Exactly that."
As we go back inside, Charlie's small hand finding mine, I know we've taken another step forward.