9. Knox
N estled into the tall grass near the edge of the lake, I’m watching my daughter enjoy the rest of her already exciting day.
We came outside to watch the fading sunset, and after an adorable pretty please, we both ended up with a bowl of ice cream.
Rocky road for me and chocolate for her.
We relax on an old blanket; Hazel sits beside me, licking her spoon, melting ice cream dribbling down her chin while she’s at it.
She has questions about the car that drove by a couple of minutes ago.
“Who’s that?”
“That’s Indiana. She’s going to be staying there for a little bit.”
“Why?”
“Because she needed somewhere to stay.”
“Why?”
“Well, the place she was staying before had a problem.”
“Why?”
“Because Muncle Rhett didn’t fix some pipes.” She giggles .
“Muncle Rhett’s funny,” she says, taking another lick off her spoon.
“Yeah, he’s funny,” I agree, giving her little side a tickle.
I’ve just answered to her satisfaction when the object of her questions comes racing out of the small white guesthouse down the dirt road, running down the path to the water.
Where is she going in such a hurry? She makes a show of avoiding the dock, making me feel a little like an ass for how hard I came down on her this afternoon.
I do need to know she can swim, but maybe telling her she wasn’t allowed on it wasn’t called for.
I watch her kneel by the edge of the water, hold her camera up, and mess with something on it before smiling.
It’s a big, beautiful smile, full of awe for the scene in front of her.
It generally annoys me when people bring their cameras everywhere.
Like they can’t live in the moment without documenting every little detail for their social media pages.
But watching her right now, the orange light of sunset on her face tells me that’s not what this is.
I will myself to look away, setting my bowl next to me and leaning back onto my hands, crossing one foot over the other.
Hazel looks back at me, so I bare my teeth and give her a growl, causing her to giggle.
She twirls in a circle, holding tight to her bowl, the sugary contents making their way through her bloodstream.
Smiling, I watch her dance back and forth, catching the sun going down behind her as it casts vibrant light into the sky and paints the clouds.
It’s one of our favorite things to do out here, together, just me and her.
“Hi,” a voice like honey calls from just below us at the water.
“Hi!” Hazel yells back. Her sweet voice is so pure and friendly. I guess I should be talking to her about stranger danger soon.
“Evening,” I say, sitting up as she walks over.
“Sorry if I’m intruding.” She is. “I just had to get out here and see this sunset.” But I’m glad.
“It’s so pretty! Orange and pink!” Hazel yells at her, already hopped up on sugar and spooning another mouthful of chocolate into her mouth.
“It is. It might be the prettiest sunset I’ve ever seen,” she tells Hazey. “I’m Indiana. It’s really nice to meet you.”
“I’m Hazel Emilia Holloway,” she introduces herself, like she’s older than her three years. It’s adorable.
“What a beautiful name.” Indiana fawns over her, then shifts her feet, like she’s unsure if she should still be standing here. I suppose I’ll need to say something then.
“Thank you,” Hazel says politely. Well, at least some things I’m teaching her are sticking—maybe I should try being a bit more polite.
“You’re welcome,” Indiana replies, before looking over at me.
“I wanted to say sorry again for earlier. I’ll stay off your dock, and I’ll—she clears her throat—“call before just showing up on your doorstep. I didn’t mean to catch you at a bad time,” she tells me.
Her sincerity is clear. I feel worse for my overreaction.
“Indiana—”
“Indie,” she interrupts. “Call me Indie, please. You know, since we know each other so well,” she adds, reusing my muttered words from earlier.
Indie. It suits her. “Indie, can you swim?”
“Y-yes. Why? Are you going to throw me in the lake?” she asks. At the ridiculous question, I feel my lips twitch. She’s really trying to extend that olive branch, even though I think it falls on me.
“Because if you’re going to be on the dock, then you need to know how to swim,” I tell her. She pinches her lips together in an attempt to hide her smile, tucking one side of her short, chestnut hair behind an ear.
“I can swim,” she confirms.
“I can swim!” Hazels chirps.
“Not alone, and not without a life vest,” I remind her.
“Okay,” she agrees. One of the first things I did when we moved to the lake house was get Hazel into baby swim lessons. She’s still taking them at the town community center and making her way up the levels.
“What kind of ice cream are you having?” Indie asks my daughter, whose face is covered in chocolate streaks.
“Chocolate!”
“Ohh, that’s a good choice,” Indie tells her.
“What’s your favorite?” Hazel asks.
Indie taps her chin, looking up as she does. “I would have to go with cherry.”
“Cherry?” I ask. Why cherry when there are so many other flavors?
“Yep. Cherry. It’s my favorite flavor. Pies, candy, danishes, and ice cream,” she says, hands fluttering out from her.
“Chocolate is better,” Hazel states, making Indie laugh. Her laugh hits me right in the chest. I feel too warm—at odds with the cooler spring evening we’re standing out in.
“Hazel, remember to be nice,” I remind her, and she nods.
“That’s okay.” Indie waves it off. “My sister has always been about chocolate in any form.”
My mind flashes with the memory of Indie’s feisty sister. “I remember the sister,” I say, smiling over her boldness. I don’t think my comment is out of line or rude. But something about it has Indie looking nervous.
Her smile is a little off-kilter when she replies with a soft hum.
“Mhm. Well, I’ve taken up enough of your evening.
I’ll see you around,” she says to me, then looks at Hazel.
“It was so lovely to meet you, Hazel Emilia Holloway.” She gives us both one more smile before turning on her heel to head for the guesthouse.
With the last of the sunlight fading, I can barely make out her small form walking away.
I fold the blanket we were sitting on and pick up my discarded bowl.
I wait until I hear her door shut and see a light turn on before picking Hazel up into my arms. She’s still holding her ice cream bowl and licking at her spoon, only now, instead of dribbling down her face, it’s dripping onto me.
“Okay, Hazey. I think that’s enough sugar for tonight. I know you had a cookie at Grammy and Grandpa’s house too.” Along with who knows what else.
“I did and I had a peanut butter cup,” she says, and I laugh at her honesty, hugging her close to kiss the crown of her head.
This little girl has changed my life in unimaginable ways and brought more love into it than I ever expected.
She’s always going to come first for me.
Her head makes its way under my chin as we climb the stairs of the front porch.
I sit her on the kitchen counter inside, and take her bowl to put our dishes in the sink, and wet a rag with warm water to wipe her face down.
“Now, I know Hazel is around here somewhere,” I say before swiping the rag over her mouth and cheeks.
“I’m here!” she yells.
“She was right here just a second ago,” I tease .
“Daddy, it’s me!” I give her chin a couple more wipes.
“There’s my girl. Gosh, you’re pretty. Has anyone ever told you that?” I ask her, looking into her soft, brown eyes.
Her smile is sweet, almost shy. “Yes. I know that.”
“And you’re so smart too.”
“Yep,” she agrees.
“Okay, smarty pants. Let’s get you into some jammies and ready for bed.”
“I’m not tired,” she says, but then she yawns almost immediately after the words leave her mouth.
“You’re not even a little tired?”
“Uh-uh.” She shakes her head at me.
I hum. “What if we read a book together? Would that help?” She nods at my suggestion. “Okay, babygirl. Which PJ’s tonight? Princess gown or sharks?”
“Sharks!” she yells.
“Sharks it is,” I say, picking her up and walking into her bedroom.
The pink bow stencils on the walls were Florence’s doing.
Hazel loves them. Her bedspread is light pink with small satin bows on the edges.
There’s a canopy netting above that gives it a very princess feel.
I set her on the bed and open the drawer to her old, cream dresser to get her shark pajamas.
It’s one I picked up at a flea market and put new hardware on.
“Alright, Hazey. Let’s get you changed.”
After we’re changed, teeth and hair brushed, I sit down on the couch in the living room, letting Hazel crawl up into my lap. We’ve picked Guess How Much I Love You as our book tonight. I feel her yawn, snuggling into me.
“I love you, Hazey,” I whisper over the top of her head.
“I love you bigger than the moon, Daddy.”
“I love you more than that,” I say before reading the story.
It’s not a long book, but I think Hazel has fallen asleep before I get to the third page.
I keep reading, though, feeling her arm go limp against my chest. After I finish the book, I stay there for a few minutes, soaking up the moment. She’s getting so big.
With my daughter in my arms, I carry her to her room, laying her on her princess bed, covering her up, and tucking in her blanky and stuffies.
I kiss her sweet curls once more and then head to change for bed as well.
Later in the living room, while I look over a case for a potential client, I see that the light is still on at the guesthouse.
Sliding my reading glasses off my nose and setting them on the table beside me, I don’t want to, but I wonder what she’s doing over there tonight and if she may be thinking about me too.