Chapter 12 #2
Maggie watched everything with wide eyes, reaching toward the giraffes with her tiny hands.
“She wants to feed them too,” Brody said, his anxiety forgotten in the moment.
I adjusted her in the carrier. “When you’re bigger, darling girl. For now, just watch and learn.”
After the giraffes, we stopped at a food stand. I let them order whatever they fancied—hot dogs and nachos and soft pretzels with far too much salt. We found a picnic table in the shade, and they attacked their food as though they hadn’t eaten in days.
“This is better than Mrs. Kowalski’s lunch schedule,” Cory announced through a mouthful of hot dog.
“Don’t let her hear you say that,” I warned. “She’ll have my head on a platter.”
“Why don’t we do this more often?” Eoin asked, cheese sauce smeared across his chin.
The question hung in the air between us. Because I’d been too busy building MIRI’s West Coast division. Because I’d let Mrs. Kowalski handle everything while I hid behind work and schedules. Because it was easier to follow a timetable than to actually be present.
I’d been terrified that if I stopped moving, stopped planning, stopped controlling every variable, I’d have to actually feel Shannon’s absence.
And because I hadn’t met Theresa yet. I hadn’t seen another way to survive.
“We’re going to,” I said finally, meeting each of their eyes. “More often. I give you my word.”
Alec looked at me across the table with naked skepticism.
“I mean it,” I added, holding his gaze. “I’ve not been the father you lot deserve this past year. I’m going to do better.”
“You always say that,” Alec said. “And then you go back to work and forget about us.”
The words were a knife between my ribs, all the worse for being absolutely true.
“You’re right,” I said, and watched his eyes widen in surprise. “I have said that before. And I’ve failed to follow through. But I’m asking you to give me another chance.”
Alec studied me for a long moment, then gave the smallest of nods before returning his attention to his hot dog. It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet. But it was a start.
After lunch, we made the tactical error of entering the gift shop. Within minutes, each child had latched onto something they absolutely needed to survive.
“A stuffed elephant,” Carson pleaded. “Please, Da. I’ll take care of it forever.”
“Me too!” Cory held up an identical elephant. “We need matching ones!”
“I want this tiger.” Eoin had found a plush tiger nearly as large as he was. “He’s fierce, and his name is Stripes.”
Brody found a book about animal conservation. “It’s educational,” he said hopefully.
Even Alec had stopped pretending disinterest. He held a small snow globe with a giraffe inside, turning it over so the glitter swirled.
I looked at my five older children with their hopeful faces, at wee Maggie gnawing on her fist, and decided.
“Right then. You may each choose what you like.” I held up a hand before they all erupt. “But—and this is not negotiable—you’ll be responsible for taking care of them. Understood?”
They nodded eagerly, already moving toward the register.
The walk back to the car was loud. The twins argued about elephants. Eoin’s tiger collided with strangers. Brody read while walking, nearly tripping over a trash can.
But Alec stayed beside me, carrying his snow globe, and I could have sworn I saw the ghost of a smile on his face.
By the time we arrived home, it was nearly five o’clock—an hour past “quiet time.” Maggie was asleep. Eoin dragged his tiger to the door.
I got them all inside and started them on pizza—because Mrs. Kowalski wasn’t here to lecture on nutrition—when the telephone rang.
“Patrick McCrae.”
“Hi.” Theresa’s voice was soft, uncertain. “It’s Theresa. I said I’d call.”
My chest warmed instantly. “I’m glad you did.”
“I wasn’t sure if I should. If maybe last night was something we both got caught up in that wasn’t... real.”
“Did it feel unreal to you?”
“No.” Quiet but certain. “It felt more real than anything has in months.”
“For me as well.”
I could hear children’s voices in the background on her end—loud, overlapping, glorious chaos.
“Rome saw us,” she said, her voice tight. “The kiss. He was at his window with his binoculars.”
“Och, no…” My stomach dropped. “How did he react?”
“About as well as you’d expect. He was upset. Confused. I had to promise you weren’t replacing Marco.”
From the kitchen, I heard the twins argue about pizza toppings. Eoin’s voice rose above theirs.
“Hold on,” I said into the phone. I put my hand over the receiver and called out: “Oi! Inside voices, if you please. And Carson, share the pepperoni with your brother or I’ll eat it all myself.”
I returned to the phone. “Apologies. It’s been something of a day.”
“That sounded... orderly.” There was surprise in her voice.
“Trust me, it wasn’t. We’ve just returned from the zoo. No schedule, no plan, just being spontaneous for once.” I looked around at the pizza boxes and zoo souvenirs scattered across the coffee table. “Mrs. Kowalski would have an apoplexy if she could see this place right now.”
Theresa laughed—a real full laugh—and the sound did something warm in my chest.
“That sounds wonderful,” she said.
“It was.” I shifted the phone to my other ear. “Different from how things usually run around here. Usually everything’s very... controlled. Scheduled within an inch of its life.”
“That must be nice. My house is never controlled.” There was a crash in her background. “Case in point.”
“I don’t know if it’s nice,” I said honestly. “Sometimes I think we’re too controlled. My seven-year-old made himself a schedule this morning to manage his siblings because that’s what he’s learned from watching me. What kind of childhood is that?”
“Rome tried to rig a zip line from the stair landing to the sofa using jump ropes this morning,” Theresa said, a hint of amused despair in her voice. “He claimed it was for rapid transit to the kitchen. So there’s a balance somewhere between death-defying stunts and strict order.”
“Perhaps.” I paused, choosing my next words carefully. “Theresa, about last night—”
“It wasn’t a mistake,” she said quickly. “I need you to know that. Even with all the guilt, even with Rome seeing us—it wasn’t a mistake.”
“Good.” Relief washed over me. “Because I’ve been replaying every moment, trying to determine if I’d completely miscalculated.”
“You didn’t miscalculate.” There was a pause. “But we need to be more careful. For the children.”
“Agreed. We both have bairns who are grieving. The last thing they need is adults making things more complicated.”
“Exactly.” She sounded relieved that I understood. “I’ll call in a few days. Once I’ve sorted out what to say to them.”
“Take whatever time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For understanding. For not pushing. For being—” She stopped, the emotion audible in her voice. “For being you.”
After we rang off, I sat holding the silent receiver for a moment longer than necessary. In the kitchen, my children argued about tigers and elephants. Alec was arguing based on weight and tusks, while Eoin insisted tigers were fiercer.
Mrs. Kowalski’s schedule sat abandoned on the side table.
Slowly but surely, this new place was beginning to feel like home.