21. Knox
I work hard to control my gaze. Indiana makes it difficult for me to focus on anything but her.
She’s telling Hazel about the big zoo in Atlanta she loves—complete with sound effects for each corresponding animal.
My lips twitch when her elephant impression has Hazel belly laughing in earnest. I’m trying to cover my laugh with a cough when she imitates an orangutan.
It’s nice. Having her here. I wasn’t prepared to enjoy her company on a regular basis.
We started having Indie over for dinner a few weeks ago.
After Hazel’s birthday party, I was left with more questions for her than I liked.
She makes me curious. When Hazel begged her to come see her fairy garden and then to stay for dinner, I didn’t fight her on it; in fact, I was happy to have an excuse to get closer to her.
Her presence is like a beacon that draws me in at an alarming rate.
Alarming because never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that watching a woman sit on my front porch pretending to be the whole zoo would absolutely captivate me.
Also, it’s been years since I’ve thought about spending time with a woman who wasn't a member of my immediate family or marrying into it.
Indiana’s voice carries through the open door and into the kitchen to me while I stir the butter sauce for our gnocchi. “What is your favorite animal?” she asks Hazel, coloring on the roll of paper between them.
“A shark!”
“A shark? Oh my goodness. I don’t know a lot about them other than what I read in a fact book that there are over 450 different kinds,” she says absent-mindedly, still coloring with her black crayon.
“They swim in the ocean,” Hazel informs her.
“Have you ever been to the ocean?”
“No.”
“Me either. Do you think we could draw it?”
“Yes!
“Perfect. What colors should we use?”
They carry on like that, Hazel asking Indie if she likes what she’s drawing over and over, and Indie patiently answering and reassuring her that her colorful fish are a work of art until I call them in for dinner.
When they make it to the kitchen, I notice that Indie’s handkerchief of the day is now tied in Hazel’s hair.
It’s light blue, the same color as her socks.
I’ve never made the connection before and wonder if she always matches them.
“Oh, shit,” I mutter, having spilled the glass of water Indie left sitting on the counter beside me.
She’s always leaving her cups around, which leads to a lot more spills than usual, and I’m not used to having to navigate having another adult in my space like this.
I walk to the linen closet to grab a towel, and when I get back, I don’t see the girls on the porch anymore.
I lay the towel on the counter and look out the window to see them walking down the path to the dock.
Indie holds her camera up, snapping pictures of Hazel as she goes.
I watch for a minute before wiping up the rest of the water.
Turning back, I catch sight of the sunset over the lake, then I see a small figure out on the dock—alone.
My blood runs cold as I take off out of the house.
“I want to show my dance moves!” I hear Hazel yell, twirling in place. With each spin, my panic rises.
“Oh my, that was a big one,” Indie calls from the edge of the dock—several feet from Hazel.
“Hazel!” I yell, my voice so loud, both of them flinch at the sound, heads snapping toward me. “Off the dock. Now.”
“Knox?” Indie questions. I’m only a few steps from her now.
“What the hell were you thinking?” I accuse.
“W-what?” she asks timidly as Hazel hops off the end of the dock onto solid ground.
“You let her out on the dock alone?” I ask, picking Hazel up.
“It was only a few feet from me. I wasn’t going to?—”
“And without a life vest?” I accuse, adrenaline still pumping through me. Her face crumples at that.
“Oh god. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t even thinking about?—”
“You weren’t thinking about her falling off and not being able to see her? I don’t have that luxury, Indiana. Hazel is at the forefront of my mind every second of every day.”
“I understand that. I do. I’m sorry. I would never put her in any kind of danger. Not on purpose. Never,” she apologizes in a rush. The look on her face shows me she’s terrified at the thought of something bad happening to my daughter.
“I’m okay, Daddy,” Hazel says, leaning her head onto my shoulder. The weight of her in my arms helps to calm me down. I look at her sweet face, smiling at me. “I was a balletina!” she says excitedly. The way she says ballerina softens my stony disposition.
“I really am sorry. Maybe I should just go home. I’ll catch you guys later.” She takes a step back, away from me, the distance and the look on her face extinguishing the fire. I can’t hold onto my anger anymore.
“Indie, stay!” Hazel pouts.
Her eyes are a little glassy, but she smiles at my girl, trying to put on a front. “It’s okay, Hazey, I’ll?—”
“Stay,” I blurt. Shock registers on her face, then confusion.
“You don’t have to do that, it’s okay. I’ll come another time.” Her words don’t convince me. If I don’t convince her to stay now, I may not be able to ever.
“I want you to,” I say.
Still looking mildly confused, she nods, accepting my re-invitation, and walks back toward the big house with us, Hazel a few feet ahead of us.
“I—” we both start at the same time.
“You go,” Indie offers.
“I’m sorry about my reaction. Hazel’s safety is my number one focus, and seeing her out there.” I pause. “It scared me.”
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am to have been the cause of that. I would never do something to hurt her. Please tell me you believe that,” she pleads. If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t. But I hear the honesty in her voice. The conviction behind her words. She really does care about Hazel.
“I do know that, which is why I shouldn’t have come down on you so hard. ”
“No, you were right. Completely justified. I’m on high alert now.”
“Welcome to the club,” I tease.
“It must be exhausting doing this all on your own,” she muses. She doesn’t know the half of it.
“It can be, but Hazel is worth every gray hair.”
“You only have a few of those,” she smirks.
“You’re not going to tease me about my gray hair?”
“Why would I do that? It’s a good look for you.” I grin.
We make it back inside, and I set Hazel down. The awkwardness from before not completely forgotten, but on its way to being.
“It smells good in here. What’s for dinner?” Indie asks.
“Gnocchi in brown butter sauce with parmesan cheese.”
“I like cheese!” Hazel chimes in.
“So do I,” Indie tells her, then looks to me before adding, “I should attempt dinner for you guys soon. I appreciate you feeding me.”
“The word attempt puts me a little on edge,” I say, pouring the sauce over all our plates. She laughs and without me having to ask, starts to get Hazel’s highchair set up.
“Har-har,” she says with an eye roll. I smirk.
“Up you go, Hazey,” she says, spinning her in a circle before setting her in the seat. “Do you want the purple bib or the red one tonight?”
“Red!”
“You got it, sweets.” She turns to retrieve it from the drawer and ends up chest-to-chest with me while I carry Hazel's food to her.
“Sorry,” she whispers, but her hands stay on my chest and seem to linger there for a moment before she slides out from under my arm and passes by.
I grin. Glad I have an effect on her, seeing as she has an astronomical one on me.
I am painfully aware of her every movement.
From her hand brushing her hair back from her face to the way she absently rubs at her shoulder when she’s nervous.
Yesterday I had to force myself to focus on my research for the upcoming case I’m presenting instead of staring at her in her bright-blue bikini out on the dock.
After dinner, I start cleaning up in the kitchen, and Hazel requests that Indie read her a bedtime story.
She’s wearing her birthday present from her, a pink nightgown with a dinosaur on it, holding a cup of tea that says: Tea-Rex.
She’s worn it almost every night since opening it.
I place the plates in the dishwasher just as Indie appears in the hallway smiling.
“I’m not sure how, but that little girl gets more charming every time I see her,” she whispers to me.
“I think she’s been spending too much time with Alder,” I tell her, and she snickers.
“I don’t think he’s her only influence in that department.” I think that’s a compliment, and I think I really like getting them from her.
“Thank you for inviting me for dinner. You don’t have to feed me all the time though. You’ve already let me extend my stay at your guesthouse—which I am incredibly grateful for by the way,” she adds.
“I like feeding you,” I answer honestly. I feel like we’ve been doing this dance for weeks now, and I’m not the best at making my intentions known with words, but I had hoped my actions might have conveyed a measure of how I’m feeling.
With each week that’s gone by, each dinner where she’s fumbled around my kitchen until she finds what she’s looking for, or each day in the sun we’ve shared, I find myself missing her when she’s not with me.
Indie is quickly becoming a part of my life—a part of Hazel’s.
Happiness and doubt war inside me at the thought.
She may choose to spend time with us now, but she’s so young.
Her whole life is really just beginning.
I shake my head, ridding it of my uncertainty, and let myself enjoy her company.
“Do you want to stay for a glass of wine tonight?” The look on her face is slightly confused and possibly amused.
“I could use a glass of wine,” she says after giving it some thought.