Chapter 6 #2
A little flour immediately puffed into the air.
Then another.
Within seconds there was more batter on the countertop than inside the bowl.
Daisy simply smiled.
"We'll call that enthusiasm."
The smell of fresh coffee slowly filled the kitchen.
I reached automatically for the cabinet where the mugs were kept.
Without thinking, I pulled down three.
One for Daisy.
One for myself.
One—
I stopped.
My hand rested on the third mug.
Remedy hadn't asked for coffee.
He probably hadn't even noticed what I was doing.
Still...
I filled it anyway.
One splash of cream.
No sugar.
The realization struck me only after I'd already stirred the cream into the cup.
I smiled quietly to myself.
Apparently Charlie wasn't the only one who noticed people's routines.
I carried Daisy's mug across the kitchen first.
"Thank you."
She accepted it with a grateful smile.
"You read minds."
"I've been told coffee helps."
"It definitely does."
I turned toward the island where Remedy was slicing tomatoes.
Without interrupting him, I simply placed the mug beside the cutting board.
He looked up in surprise.
"You didn't have to do that."
"I know."
The words sounded strangely familiar.
His smile deepened almost imperceptibly.
"I've heard that somewhere before."
"I think you have."
He picked up the mug.
Still warm.
Still exactly the way he liked it.
"You remembered."
I shrugged lightly.
"I notice things."
"I've noticed."
For just a second neither of us spoke.
The silence wasn't awkward.
It felt...
Comfortable.
Like conversation wasn't always necessary.
Charlie's delighted voice shattered the moment.
"Daddy!"
He looked over immediately.
"What happened?"
She held up the wooden spoon.
"I made a bubble."
Sure enough, a giant bubble had formed in the batter before slowly popping.
Remedy nodded solemnly.
"Excellent bubble."
"I think it's the biggest one."
"I don't doubt it."
She grinned proudly before returning to stirring.
The back door creaked open once again.
Bishop stepped inside carrying two small boxes beneath one arm.
"Morning."
"Morning," Daisy answered.
"What've you got?"
"Donated books."
He set the boxes on the table.
"The elementary school held another drive."
Charlie's head immediately lifted.
"Books?"
"Lots of them."
She looked at Daisy.
"Can we see?"
"After breakfast."
Charlie sighed dramatically.
"That's forever."
"It's about twenty minutes."
"Forever."
Bishop chuckled.
"I remember feeling that way."
Charlie looked thoughtfully at him.
"Were you little?"
"Believe it or not..."
He smiled.
"...once."
"I don't think so."
Remedy laughed into his coffee.
"I've been trying to convince her adults used to be kids."
Charlie looked unconvinced.
"I need proof."
Bishop reached for his wallet.
"I think I might have some."
He pulled out an old photograph, worn soft around the edges.
A little boy with dark hair and missing front teeth smiled proudly beside a fishing pole nearly twice his height.
Charlie gasped.
"You!"
"Me."
"You were tiny!"
"I was."
She stared at the picture.
"You got bigger."
"So I've been told."
The kitchen filled with laughter.
I watched the exchange quietly.
There wasn't a trace of self-consciousness in Bishop.
No hesitation.
No concern that showing a childhood photograph somehow made him less intimidating.
These men had built lives where strength and gentleness existed together.
Growing up...
I'd been taught those things couldn't possibly coexist.
The men inside the Order believed fear created respect.
Standing in this kitchen...
Watching Bishop laugh with Charlie while Remedy quietly reached over to steady the mixing bowl before it slid off the counter...
I realized how wrong that lesson had been.
Real strength didn't demand fear.
It created safety.
Breakfast came together the way it always seemed to at Harbor House.
Organically.
No one announced jobs.
People simply noticed what needed doing.
Melissa arrived carrying fresh fruit from the walk-in cooler.
Steel wandered through the back door long enough to steal a strip of bacon before Daisy swatted his arm with a dish towel.
"I was quality testing."
"You were stealing."
"They're practically the same thing."
"They're really not."
Charlie giggled so hard she nearly dropped the spoon.
"Uncle Steel got caught."
"I've been framed."
"You've got bacon in your mouth."
Steel looked genuinely offended.
"That's circumstantial evidence."
Remedy shook his head.
"I don't think you know what circumstantial means."
"I don't."
Steel shrugged.
"But it sounded official."
Even Daisy laughed.
As everyone settled into the familiar rhythm of breakfast, I found myself standing back for a moment.
Just watching.
Watching Charlie proudly carry napkins to the table.
Watching Melissa help one of the younger children pour orange juice.
Watching Bishop quietly repair the loose leg on a kitchen chair while talking with one of the veterans.
Watching Remedy refill everyone's coffee before he even thought about sitting down himself.
Always everyone else first.
Without realizing I was moving, I stepped beside him.
He had just reached for the empty coffee pot.
"I've got it."
He looked over.
"You've been helping all morning."
"So have you."
He smiled.
"It's kind of my job."
"So is taking five minutes to actually sit down."
One eyebrow lifted.
"Is that an order?"
"A suggestion."
"I've been told I'm not very good at following those."
"I've noticed."
He chuckled softly.
"Fair enough."
For the first time since I'd met him...
He didn't reach for another task.
Instead...
He set the coffee pot back on the warmer.
Pulled out the chair beside Charlie.
And sat down.
Charlie immediately reached over and slipped her tiny hand into his.
"There."
He looked at her.
"There what?"
She smiled with complete satisfaction.
"Now everybody's eating."
I felt something warm settle quietly inside my chest.
Because Charlie had been listening.
She had noticed every conversation about remembering to eat.
Every gentle reminder.
Every act of care.
Children truly did learn love by watching it.
And perhaps...
So did adults.
Breakfast lingered the way good breakfasts always seemed to.
Nobody rushed away the moment the plates were empty.
Someone poured another cup of coffee.
Another biscuit somehow appeared in the basket.
Conversations wandered from gardening to motorcycles to whether Charlie's dragon, Pancake, could realistically fit inside the Harbor House barn.
Charlie remained convinced he could.
Steel insisted the barn wasn't tall enough.
Nathan quietly suggested Pancake might sleep curled up.
Emily thought dragons should sleep in trees.
Mr. Pickles, according to Charlie, refused to sleep anywhere that didn't have pancakes nearby.
The discussion became remarkably serious.
I found myself laughing more than I spoke.
Not because I had nothing to say.
Because listening felt... peaceful.
The sound of laughter echoed off the old farmhouse walls, filling spaces that once would have echoed only with silence.
For the first time in years...
Silence wasn't something I feared.
It was simply the space between happy moments.
After everyone finished eating, the kitchen transformed with practiced efficiency.
Nobody assigned jobs.
People simply noticed what needed doing.
Melissa gathered plates.
Nathan proudly pushed a small cart loaded with empty juice pitchers toward the sink.
Bishop carried two heavy pots to the dishwasher while Steel somehow convinced Charlie that drying silverware was an elite responsibility only trusted assistants could perform.
She accepted the promotion with complete seriousness.
"I won't disappoint anybody."
"I know you won't," Steel replied.
Remedy reached for the stack of plates nearest me.
"I'll get these."
I shook my head.
"We've both been saying that all morning."
He smiled.
"Old habits."
"I've noticed."
"So have I."
Without another word, we divided the stack in half.
Neither insisting.
Neither arguing.
Just...
Sharing the work.
It was strangely easy.
We moved around one another without bumping shoulders, somehow always anticipating where the other intended to go next.
When I reached for the dish towel, he had already handed it to me.
When he finished rinsing one of the serving bowls, I was already there to dry it.
No discussion.
No planning.
Simply... rhythm.
Daisy leaned casually against the counter, watching us over the rim of her coffee mug.
She smiled to herself.
"You two are efficient."
Remedy looked up.
"We've been washing dishes for ten minutes."
"Exactly."
She nodded knowingly.
"You've already figured out each other's rhythm."
I laughed.
"I think that's just because we're trying not to get in each other's way."
"Maybe."
Daisy's smile only widened.
"Or maybe you're both paying attention."
Heat warmed my cheeks before I looked back down at the dish in my hands.
Outside, the morning had fully arrived.
Golden sunlight spilled across the gardens surrounding Harbor House, warming the dew-covered grass until thousands of tiny droplets sparkled like scattered diamonds.
Charlie burst through the back door carrying a watering can nearly as large as she was.
"Daddy!"
Remedy looked up from stacking the last of the clean dishes.
"What is it?"
"The flowers are thirsty."
He glanced toward the window.
"I think they might be."
She held the watering can higher.
"They need help."
"I suppose we'd better go."
She nodded emphatically.
"They've been waiting."
He reached for his boots.
"I'll grab another watering can."
"I've got extras."
Charlie's eyes immediately found me.
"My Sunshine?"
I smiled.
"Yes?"
"You wanna help?"
The invitation came with such simple hope that refusing never crossed my mind.
"I'd love to."
Her face lit up.
"I knew you would."
She slipped one tiny hand into mine before reaching for her father's with the other.
"Come on."
We followed her out into the cool morning air.
The gardens stretched behind Harbor House like a living reminder that healing took patience.
Raised beds overflowed with tomatoes, peppers, squash, and herbs.
Marigolds bordered nearly every path, their bright orange blossoms dancing gently in the breeze.