Chapter 5 #6
The little girl danced in circles with Nathan while Mr. Pickles bounced beneath one arm.
"Now she's acting like she's been family for years."
Charlie suddenly stopped spinning.
"Daddy!"
Remedy looked over his shoulder.
"What is it, Bug?"
"You smiled!"
He laughed.
"I've been smiling."
"No."
She pointed dramatically.
"The big one."
Sunshine looked up at him.
"The big one?"
Charlie nodded vigorously.
"The one that makes your eyes wrinkly."
Steel burst into laughter loud enough that several people turned to look.
"I've never heard it described that way."
Charlie ignored him.
She continued pointing accusingly at her father.
"You forgot you were tired."
The words settled over the yard with surprising quiet.
Remedy opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
Charlie tilted her head.
"You did."
The realization settled over him so gradually that he almost missed it. Charlie was right.
For the first time all day...
Sometime during the evening, his headache had faded into the background, the constant tension in his shoulders had finally eased, and for the first time in longer than he could remember, he hadn't given tomorrow's schedule a single thought.
He wasn't thinking about the paperwork still waiting on his desk, the medication inventories he needed to finish, or any of the responsibilities waiting for him back at Harbor House.
For the first time in a long while, he was simply present, allowing himself to enjoy the evening instead of planning the next one.
Instead, he'd spent the last fifteen minutes talking, laughing, dancing, and simply existing beside someone whose quiet presence somehow made the weight he'd been carrying all day feel a little lighter.
It wasn't something he could explain, but for the first time in a long while, he wasn't thinking about responsibility. He was simply enjoying the moment.
Sunshine saw the realization cross his face.
"What?"
He smiled sheepishly.
"I think she's right."
Charlie looked delighted.
"I know."
The song slowly came to an end.
Neither of them moved immediately.
There was no awkwardness as the music faded, only the quiet realization that the dance had ended much sooner than either of them would have liked.
Remedy stepped back first.
"Thank you."
She looked surprised.
"For what?"
"The dance."
A small smile touched her lips.
"I should be thanking you."
"You don't have to."
"I know."
She laughed softly.
"But I want to."
Neither of them moved right away. The conversation had ended, the music had faded, and yet both of them lingered as though stepping away meant letting go of something they weren't quite ready to lose.
Charlie solved the problem, as she usually did.
She came racing across the grass at full speed with Mr. Pickles tucked securely beneath one arm.
"I won!"
Remedy crouched instinctively.
"What'd you win?"
"The dancing."
He laughed.
"How do you win dancing?"
"'Cause everybody smiled."
She looked between the two adults with complete satisfaction.
"See?"
She spread both arms wide.
"I fixed it."
Remedy scooped her into his arms.
"You certainly fixed something."
Charlie wrapped her arms around his neck before looking toward Sunshine.
"I told you Daddy dances."
"You were right."
"I know."
She yawned.
A tiny one.
So small most people probably wouldn't have noticed.
Remedy did.
His smile softened.
"There it is."
Charlie frowned.
"What?"
"The bedtime yawn."
"I didn't yawn."
"You absolutely did."
"Nope."
Another yawn interrupted her denial.
This one bigger.
Steel walked past carrying an empty tray.
"She's got about..." He looked theatrically at an imaginary watch. "...fifteen minutes."
"Twelve," Daisy corrected.
"Ten," Lark added.
Charlie looked at all of them.
"I'm awake."
She yawned again.
"So awake."
Sunshine covered a laugh with one hand.
Remedy caught her eye over Charlie's curls.
"You'll see."
"I believe you."
Charlie sighed dramatically.
"Nobody ever believes me."
Within seconds she rested her head against Remedy's shoulder.
She continued insisting she wasn't tired even as her eyelids grew heavier with every passing moment, proving once again that exhaustion rarely won an argument with a determined three-year-old until it had already claimed victory.
Sunshine watched as Remedy gently rubbed small circles across his daughter's back without even realizing he was doing it.
The motion came as naturally as breathing, comforting in its quiet familiarity, and she found herself smiling before she even realized she was doing it.
Some people healed wounds with medicine, while others healed them by offering the quiet reassurance that no one had to face the darkness alone.
Watching Remedy hold Charlie beneath the warm glow of the clubhouse lights, Sunshine felt a fragile hope begin to unfold inside her.
It wasn't certainty, and it wasn't the kind of hope that erased old pain overnight.
It was something much smaller and infinitely more precious—the first cautious belief that perhaps she had finally found a place where she no longer had to carry the weight of the night by herself.