4. Winnie #4
When he met my eyes, there was sadness in his. Poor little storyteller.
The allocated homework time proceeded with considerably less warfare than expected.
Not without attempts, naturally. Bianca corrected two textbook printing errors and became briefly distracted while writing notes in the margins.
CJ spent ten minutes trying to convince me that reading Shakespeare technically counted as doing a chore and that he deserved monetary compensation.
But mostly, they worked.
The strange thing about children was that they often behaved better once they believed an adult actually saw them clearly, once they believed someone saw the person beneath the misbehaving.
The two girls took a break in the backyard while CJ continued working on an assignment. I watched them from the window, keeping a close distance from the bright late-afternoon sun. By the time I served dinner, the house had settled into an unexpectedly peaceful rhythm.
Just after seven, the front door opened—earlier than expected. The children abandoned their remaining homework and jumped up, chairs scraping backward across the floors as they raced to greet their father.
“Dad!”
Conrad barely had time to shut the door before Billie launched herself at him and told him about the geese.
As CJ hugged him, he immediately started talking over Billie, telling his father about cafeteria corruption.
Bianca stayed back for half a second before she briefly wrapped an arm around Conrad’s middle.
The man looked stunned. His gaze lifted over their heads toward me, standing near the stove.
Alive, his expression said silently.
Interesting how low his expectations had become.
“You’re home early,” I said.
“I promised I would be this week.” He glanced around the house. “Everything okay?”
Billie clapped her hands together. “Winnie says I don’t have homework disease.”
Conrad’s eyebrows rose. “Homework disease?”
CJ elbowed Billie. “You weren’t supposed to lead with that.”
As Conrad slowly removed his coat, I watched the realization dawn gradually: there were no disasters, no emotional hostage situations, no flour coming down from the vents, no batter on the walls. Just children, who had been fed and were doing homework.
The man looked so visibly relieved that it made me feel sorry for him.
“How was your day?” I asked.
He exhaled slowly. “Long.”
“Did you remember to eat?”
One of his eyebrows lifted. Interesting. Perhaps no one asked him things like that anymore.
“Eventually,” he admitted.
“Hm.”
Billie tugged his sleeve. “Winnie knows all about homework.”
“I gathered.”
“She also thinks my rocks are emotionally complex.”
Conrad looked at me carefully. “I’m trying to determine whether you’re encouraging them or managing them.”
“Yes.”
That startled a laugh out of him. A real one. And there it was again. The raised eyebrow afterward. The surprise, as though joy had caught him off guard in his own kitchen.
Oh, dear God. I disliked that my heart ached for him. Professional was one thing, but connection? Terribly dangerous.
“I should head out,” I said, before the feeling could settle too deep.
All three children gave me disappointed looks. Conrad noticed it.
“You sure?” he asked. “You’ve done more in one afternoon than?—”
He stopped himself.
Smiling, I stepped in to rescue him from finishing the sentence. “We survived admirably.”
Billie wrapped her arms around my waist before I could leave. “You have to come back tomorrow.”
“I certainly hope so. I’m leaving my tea mug for the morning.”
“That’s how you know somewhere is home,” Billie informed me solemnly.
“How’s that?” I asked.
“Because you stop taking your stuff with you. You just know it’ll still be there when you come back.”
Such deep words for such a young girl.
Disentangling myself from her embrace, I focused on making a clean exit instead of looking at the precious face gazing at me as though I’d hung the moon. Conrad followed me out onto the porch while the children argued about whether geese understood capitalism.
“I really appreciate your help today,” he said quietly.
The porch light caught the dark circles beneath his eyes again now that the children weren’t directly touching him. He looked older, but not unattractive. Just worn thin by loving too hard for too long.
“They’re lovely children,” I said.
He laughed softly under his breath. “That feels like an overly generous compliment.”
“No. Honestly.”
He let out a breath that seemed to carry half his defenses with it. Humans always reacted strangely when they were told the truth kindly.
“Well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck again, “I think this went… surprisingly well.”
“I believe so too.”
Inside the house, Billie shouted, “The geese represent the working class!”
“Ugh, that is not what capitalism is,” Bianca said.
Then CJ, “It is to the geese.”
Conrad closed his eyes and exhaled heavily.
Biting back a smile, I stepped off the porch toward my hearse waiting under the trees.
“Well,” I murmured to myself as I unlocked the door. “I think that went well.”