Chapter Three
Keegan
“There you go; how does that feel?” Daddy asked as he pulled the hemline of one of his t-shirts down over my body. My underwear and skirt were wet and sticky from our fun, and he said he didn’t want it to irritate my skin, so he put them in the washing machine.
Once he stripped me, he cleaned my stomach with a wet, soapy cloth, and then smoothed some cool lotion onto my bottom. He was gentle and thorough, and the sting was completely gone, which was sort of a shame because I wanted to remember him every time I sat down. And I wouldn’t have minded feeling his hand on my cheeks all day.
Once I was clean and lotioned, I thought about asking to be free and nakey the rest of the day, but then he offered me one of his t-shirts to wear, and that sounded like an even better idea. I wanted to be covered in something that belonged to him.
He also offered me a pair of his underwear, but they were much too big. I stepped into them and he pulled the waistband onto my hips, but they immediately fell onto the floor. So we settled on just the shirt. It was fine by me; I liked the breeze, and the thin cotton against my skin.
“It feels good.” It was loose and flowy, and hung down to my knees. “It’s kind of like a pretty dress,” I answered, giving a little twirl as he chuckled.
“You are what makes it pretty. I’m convinced you could make a trash bag look beautiful.” I giggled at the silly idea. “Come on, I need to feed my boy some lunch.”
I followed him into the kitchen, where he pulled out a wooden chair, but before I could sit down, Daddy said he would be right back and hurried out of the room. He returned carrying a throw pillow from the sofa, which he placed onto the hard seat, before patting it in invitation. He thought of everything; even the tiny comfortable touches that made his care evident, warming my insides.
I settled my bare butt in at the table and watched him get to work. He moved gracefully across the room, grabbing a pan from the cabinet and ingredients from the fridge. It was obviously something he did often; he knew right where everything was, and looked like he had a recipe in mind.
“Do you like to cook?” I asked curiously as he fired up the burner on the stovetop. He appeared to be good at it, but I wanted to know if he enjoyed it.
“I do,” he replied with a smile. “I’ve always enjoyed cooking; especially when it’s for people I care about.” Daddy winked at me and my stomach warmed. I knew he cared about me; I could feel it in his touch and see it in his actions, but it was nice to hear it. “I’m just making something quick for now, because I want to get your belly full. I can make you something fancier for dinner.”
In no time at all, he scooped a sandwich off of the pan and onto a plate, which he placed in front of me. It was grilled cheese, which I loved , but it looked even better than what I was used to. It was thick, browned perfectly, and had gooey cheese spilling over the sides. But there was something else inside it too.
I reached for the top piece of bread to peel it back for a peek, but Daddy stopped me by gently grabbing my hand. “Careful, baby; it’s hot. I don’t want you to burn your precious little fingers.” He kissed my fingertips and made my stomach feel swoopy.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to see what all was inside.”
He grabbed a butter knife from the drawer and cut my sandwich into two triangles. “That will help it cool faster, and let you see the goodies inside. There’s two layers of cheddar cheese, barbecue sauce, and barbecue potato chips. It’s my specialty sandwich.”
Just hearing the ingredients made my mouth water. “This looks very fancy to me.” Daddy laughed even though I was being serious. “I only know how to cook eggs.”
“I happen to love eggs,” he told me with a smile as he sat down next to me with a plate of his own. “But if you’d like, and if you promise to be very careful around the oven, I will teach you how to cook lots of things.”
“That sounds like fun.” It also sounded like I’d be spending lots more time with him, which was the best part of all.
Once Daddy told me my sandwich was cool enough, I took a big bite and hummed as its savory flavors burst across my tastebuds. “Mm, this is so good!” I knew it was rude to talk with my mouth full, but I had to tell him how delicious it was.
His eyes sparkled right along with his smile. “I’m so glad you like it.” He didn’t look like he thought I was rude at all.
When I lifted my sandwich to take another big bite, I noticed the small blue floral pattern on my plate. A million memories rushed into my brain and warmed my heart. “My grandma had plates just like this. She raised me,” I added, realizing I hadn’t told him that yet. “She and my grandpa. She loved cooking too, and made almost all of our meals. We’d sit around her big oak table and eat on her blue flowery plates.”
Daddy’s warm hand traced circles onto my back. “That sounds really nice. I bet she was a great cook; grandmas always are.”
I nodded as I took another bite. “I wish I would have asked her to teach me. I guess I didn’t think about it because she enjoyed preparing the meals so much. She loved spoiling Grandpa and me.”
“Grandmas are good at that, too,” Daddy chuckled.
“She was good at lots of things; cooking, baking, singing, and she could sew anything. She made really pretty quilts. I thought they were pretty enough to wear. Sometimes, when she was busy, I would wrap the quilts around my waist and pretend they were ball gowns. One day, she caught me.”
Daddy’s hand stopped circling against me, and his eyes filled with concern. “I thought she would be mad at me, and she was, a little, but not for the reason I was afraid of; she was just irritated that I was dragging her nice quilt across the floor. She said if I wanted her to make me an actual dress to play in, all I had to do was ask.” He smiled brightly again and went back to drawing circles.
“So I asked nicely, and she made me a pretty purple dress. I loved it from the moment I put it on; how it felt, how it crinkled, and especially how it puffed out when I twirled. She was happy that I was happy, but Grandpa was less than thrilled when he found out. He asked her if she was trying to turn me into a sissy. She said no, but that she’d turn him into a starving man by refusing to cook if he kept running his mouth.”
Daddy tipped his head back and laughed. “I think I would have liked her.”
“You would have loved her.” She was the sweetest woman to ever live, but she also had a sassy streak, which I must have inherited. “After that threat, Grandpa never mentioned anything about my wardrobe again. Grandma sewed the dresses, I wore the dresses, and Grandpa stayed quiet and ate his biscuits and gravy.” Daddy laughed again, and I was quickly becoming addicted to the booming, gravely sound. It was pure joy, and warmed me to my core. “Grandpa also taught me how to play cards.”
Which was why I always carried a pack in my purse, and why card games were some of my favorite things to play. My grandparents molded me into the man I was. They let my personality bloom, and while they didn’t agree with everything I did, my happiness was the most important thing to them.
Maybe that’s why little time appealed to me; because it brought me back to a time when I was so happy and free. It fanned away the pressures and expectations of adult life, and reminded me of my youth, and my family. They supported me, encouraged me, and loved me unconditionally. It was a feeling I’d never experienced with anyone else before or since, until I met the man sitting beside me.
Maybe it wasn’t love yet…on his end. My heart had made up its mind during our first conversation. But I knew without a doubt that his feelings for me were something deep and wonderful, and I could only hope they’d grow even stronger over time.
“Did you get enough to eat?” Daddy asked when my plate was empty.
“Yes, thank you. It was so yummy.”
“Good. Now that you are full, I have something else I think you’ll like.”
“Is it a cookie?” I asked hopefully, and he snorted a laugh.
“It wasn’t , but I think I can make that happen.” I clapped my hands as he opened a cabinet and retrieved a package of chocolate chip cookies - my favorite. He took two out of the pack and put them on the table in front of me. “You enjoy your treat, and I’ll be right back.” After kissing the top of my head, he disappeared down the hallway.
He returned just as I swallowed the last bite of my dessert. “What do you think, baby?” he asked as he placed on the tabletop a stack of paper and several pots of fingerpaint. “Would you like to paint a picture?”
“Yes!” I squealed excitedly. “Oh, thank you, Daddy!” I hugged him around the waist and he squeezed me back. “Should I change out of your shirt? I don’t want it to get messy.”
“Don’t worry about that. Just have fun, and if anything gets on the shirt, it will wash out.”
He sat down next to me and gave me his full attention. His eyes didn’t move from my hands as they dipped into the liquid colors and smeared across the plain white pages.
The stack of paper quickly shrank as I created one masterpiece after another. I painted a tree with fingerprint apples growing on its branches, a colorful butterfly, a rainbow with a pot of gold at one end, and a barn scene, with farm animals surrounding the building.
Daddy gushed over each picture, talking like each one should be hanging in a museum; even though my sheep only had three legs because the paint smeared and two of them joined together, and my butterfly was a little lumpy. Daddy didn’t care; he loved them. And while he didn’t have a museum to display them in, he did hang every one of them on his refrigerator, and beamed with pride.
“Which one is your favorite?” I asked curiously when all of my paper was gone, and I had run out of energy and interest for painting.
“This one,” he replied with a chuckle, booping my nose with his finger. I crossed my eyes to see that I had a green dot and a red smudge on my nose. My hands and arms were nearly black from all of the colors mixing together on my skin, but I was proud to see that I didn’t get a single spot on his shirt. “My little work of art.”
“Will you wipe me down with a cloth again?” I loved his care and gentility when he cleaned me earlier.
“I could, but what would you think about taking a nice warm bubble bath?”
I was on my feet before I realized I’d moved from my chair. “I think you have the best ideas.”