Cam
SIX
Price left for the studio early saying, “The blue’s close.”
I’d learned in the days since I’d worked for the family that he’d been chasing a particular shade of blue for weeks.
“I’m hoping to get it today.”
He kissed each of the kids’ heads and leaned toward me before jerking back. Had he been going to kiss me too? I wouldn’t object, but he got flustered and raced out.
I was a little alarmed at what would happen if he didn’t get the color right.
There were no punching bags on the property.
Maybe he just went to the gym and got sweaty.
Oh no, no. I had to take those images out of my head.
I bounced up and down in the entryway, flapping my hands while telling the pics of my sweaty boss to get in the trash.
It didn’t work, so I stuck my head in the fridge for a bit to cool down.
As it was Saturday, the kids were home, and after breakfast, I sat at the island while the girls chatted about their friends and a school project. Jack bounded off his chair and flattened himself on the floor. The girls and I peered over the island as he crawled toward the pantry.
“He thinks we can’t see him,” Isla mouthed.
Jack got on his knees and grabbed a packet of cookies.
“The smaller male,” Bea breathed, “believes he is invisible.”
I’d caught Bea doing this a few times where she narrated what was happening in the household in the hushed voice of the nature documentaries she watched nonstop.
“But the smaller male is wrong.”
I shoved a hand over my mouth so I didn’t giggle. It was adorable, and Jack was oblivious.
“Little brother, our sister is talking about you,” Isla announced.
Jack fumbled the cookies, and I stood in front of him with my hand out. I didn’t speak, and he gave them to me before racing into the playroom and howling. I pitied whatever he was kicking. The girls and I ignored him and he eventually returned and ate his breakfast.
We moved into the playroom where Isla and Jack played a game that Jack invented and whose rules favored whatever he did, while Bea practiced the violin.
There was a chart on the wall in her own handwriting that she had to do an hour of practice every day.
But my dear Bea should have stuck to the recorder unless she was terrible at that too.
She tried so hard and never gave up, but her music sounded like two tomcats hissing at one another. And she knew it because she'd stop and glare at the sheet music.
Isla handed Jack earplugs, and they continued with their game.
“You’re getting better.” I hid my face in a book because Bea would see the lie if I didn’t.
Bea lowered the bow. “You don’t have to do that. I know I’m bad.”
“But you’re less bad than last week, and if you continue practicing, one day you’ll be good.”
She lifted her chin. “You’re right.” She tucked the violin under her jaw and sawed on.
“You can’t do that, Jack. You just said I wasn’t allowed.” Isla was screeching, but she still had the earplugs in.
“I can.”
“No.”
“I won.”
“You did not.”
Jack flung himself on the couch opposite me which seemed to be a pattern today, and I caught a flicker of yellow near his hand on the couch cushion.
It was there and disappeared so fast I couldn’t decide if I’d imagined it or it was a trick of the light.
The window was open, and it was probably something reflecting.
But Bea crossed the room at speed and grabbed her brother’s hand, reattaching his little leather bracelet that had fallen off.
Isla planted herself in front of me and put her arms out. “Do you want to see my drawings?” She bent over so her face was close to mine.
“What was that?” I peered around Isla.
“Nothing.” Bea was looking at Jack.
“Jack had a match,” Isla explained.
I’d never seen matches in the house, and I couldn’t smell that familiar sulphur tang of a struck match. Bea was almost sitting on a squirming Jack while glowering at her sister.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“No, it was a sparkler.” Isla was trying hard to convince me of something. “Left over from, ummm, a birthday.”
The kids were lying, and they were scared of telling me what had actually happened. It was probably my imagination, and I couldn’t allow them to be upset about something that I couldn’t prove.
I beckoned them onto the sofa. “Hey, guys, it’s okay. I’m not going to yell. No one’s in trouble.”
“Are you going to tell Daddy?” Jack’s bottom lip wobbled.
Now I was worried. Why would Price care about a trick of the light?
“There’s nothing to tell.”
The children shared a glance, and Bea picked up the violin. But my ears had been assaulted enough and I made an executive decision.
“Everyone up. We’re going to play pickleball.”
The kids put on the jackets they often wore when they went outside, saying it was cold today. It wasn’t, but I wasn’t going to argue the temperature with three children.
Isla hit the court as soon as she got her sneakers on. This was no longer the same girl who spent hours bent over a sketchpad.
“This was Papa’s court.” She handed me a paddle and I almost bowed because it felt like such a privilege, as if I was being knighted. “He was going to teach me how to play, but he couldn’t.” She shrugged.
So there was a papa who was part of this family’s story. I’d only been working for the family for a short time, so perhaps Price would fill me in when we got to know one another better.
Isla grinned. “So I taught myself by watching videos online, and I’m really good.”
I learned very quickly that I was worse at playing pickleball than Bea was at the violin. Isla showed no mercy as she corrected my grip and beat me while telling me I had footwork issues. Jack was supposed to be on my team, but he just ran around in circles.
Bea sat in a lawn chair, holding her tablet, and narrated, “The older male shows no skill for pickleball.”
“Thank you, Bea.” I waved my paddle at her.
“The smaller male is not paying attention.” Bea wasn’t letting up.
“That’s you, Jack," Isla pointed out again, as she had earlier.
“What? No, I am Jack. Is that like a letter?”
“Don’t worry, buddy.” I hugged him, and his skin was hot against my cheek, just like his sisters’.
For an hour as I was outplayed by a seven-year-old, Jack chased butterflies and Bea describing my failures, I sweated, panted, and groaned. But it was fun, and I was happy. Happy to be here and with these three children.
When we were done, Isla raced for the hose and splashed me and Jack.
Bea put her tablet inside its case and ran to join us.
The four of us danced under the water, laughing, as the game had left us all overheated, until the kids began shivering and complaining about the cold. Even mild temperatures chilled them.
After getting changed, we collapsed in the playroom, and Isla showed me the dragon she was always drawing, the one whose spikes she couldn’t get right. She was a skilled artist, and I wanted to encourage her.
“The spikes are fighting one another because you’re drawing them all the same size.
” I tapped one of them. “Real things taper, so they’re bigger at the base and smaller toward the tip.
” I grabbed a piece of paper and roughed it out for her.
“And you’re pressing too hard on the far ones.
Things farther away go softer and lighter. ”
She took the pencil back and tried it. The dragon looked much more real, and we both stared at it.
“You’re the first person who told me how to do it. Everyone else says it’s nice.”
“There’s a difference between nice and good, and that is good.”
She glanced up at me and moved a little closer so our shoulders were touching and kept drawing. She had a great imagination, and I pictured her after she left school illustrating book covers or comic books.
When Price's car pulled into the estate, the kids were fed and in their PJs. We’d decided getting under the hose was a replacement for the shower, just for today. The children had spent the whole day letting me in, slowly, never overstepping, just embracing being with one another.
“How was today?”
Price’s voice drifted over me, and I wished I could catch it and keep it close.
“We had a great time.” I turned around, ready to ask him about his day, but one look at his face and I decided not to. He’d been fighting a battle with that blue and had lost.
I didn’t mention what had happened in the playroom where I might or could have seen something. He was the person I wanted to tell everything to, but I decided to keep this to myself for now.