Chapter 8 #2
“Thank you!” Bella calls. “I wove you, Ava.”
“I love you, too,” Ava shouts from inside the room at the end of the hall.
My chest tightens as I squeeze Bella’s hand. “What great sisters you are. Now, I wish I had a big sister when I was little even more.”
Bella shoots me another wobbly smile. “I wove Ava. She’s my best fwend. She always cheers me up when I’m sad, and my tummy gets sick.”
Poor button. Her lisp gets worse when she’s sad, too.
I wonder if her therapist knows about that? I read in the agency brief that the girls are in therapy after the death of their mom last year, but I have no idea how that’s going. Or if Bella’s anxiety is a recent thing or something she’s always dealt with.
Making a mental note to ask Dean about that if he decides not to sack me the second he gets home, I guide Bella into the first door on the right.
Inside the bathroom, a collection of rubber ducks line the edge of the tub, and a bucket of bath crayons sits on the floor, making it clear that bathtime is fun time in this family. I approve, and it makes me hope Bella will find a bath relaxing after her rough morning.
I set her on the mat and start the water while I help her out of her shirt. “So, does your tummy get sick a lot when you’re sad?”
She nods as her head emerges. “Yeah.”
Well, that would have been good to know up front, I think. Aloud, I ask, “Are you feeling upset this morning? Maybe about Grammy going back to her house?”
She nods, her gray eyes far too solemn for a soul who’s only spent three years on the planet. “Yes, that made me really sad.”
My forehead furrowed, I reach in, testing the water and making an adjustment to the heat before helping her out of the rest of her clothes.
“I’m so sorry, honey. But it’s totally normal to be sad at times like this.
It’s really tough when the people we love have to go away, even for a little while. ”
“Yeah.” She looks down at her now bare feet. “Especially when they don’t come back sometimes.”
My ribs clutch so hard and fast that for a second, I can barely breathe.
God, this poor pumpkin. I can feel her pain. I really can. I know how it feels to have the most important person in your world ripped away when you’re just a baby.
And I know the girls are probably never going to stop missing—and mourning—their mom. I was a little younger than Bella when my mother died, but not a day goes by that I don’t wish she were still here.
Maybe it’s because my dad, as sweet as he is, was forced into parenting without a passion for the gig that made losing my mother leave an unfillable hole in my heart. Or maybe that’s just what happens when the source, the mama, the nurturing center of a child’s world, is stolen away too soon.
I hope it’s the former, but I fear it’s the latter, and that Bella may have a painful road ahead of her as a motherless daughter, just like I did.
“You’re just dropping truth bombs right and left this morning, buddy,” I say, my voice husky with emotion.
She looks up at me, confusion wrinkling her forehead. “What does that mean?”
“It means, you’re super smart,” I say, ignoring the tightness in my chest as I place a hand on her head. “Smart in your brain. And smart in your heart. And smart in your tummy, too.”
She giggles. “My tummy isn’t smart. My tummy is a bad tummy.”
“No way,” I scoff as I reach over to turn off the water. “Your tummy is very smart. It knows what it feels exactly when it feels it. Not much smarter than that. But now your tummy knows you’re going to be okay, and it can relax while you have fun playing in the bath.”
“Yay, I love the bath!” she cheers.
As I help her in, I ask, “Which duckie is your favorite?”
“Mr. Flower Face,” she says without a beat of hesitation. “But I like the dolls to come into the bath, too. Can you get the dolls?”
“Sure, where are they?”
“Under the sink,” Ava says, skidding into the bathroom breathless, panting a little as she holds up striped leggings and a pink sweatshirt with a giant glitter taco on the front with matching taco socks.
“Wow! This outfit is amazing, girlfriend,” I say, meaning it. “Look at that taco sparkle! It looks like a disco ball with extra lettuce and tomato!”
Bella giggles, and Ava grins, “We both love tacos. Tacos always make us happy.”
“Ex-specially when it’s happy tacos in my belly on Tuesdays! I can’t wait for tomorrow,” Bella cheers, clearly feeling much better if she’s excited about tacos. “Daddy makes yummy tacos.”
Ava leans in, dipping a hand into the water. “Oh, that feels good. That’s the kind I like, when it’s good and hot.”
“But not too hot, right?” I ask, testing it again.
“No, it’s perfect,” Ava says, already stripping down.
I laugh, deciding to roll with Ava’s latest impulsive decision. “Looks like it’s double trouble sister bathtime, huh?”
Ava grins and points to the sink. “Yes, but we need our dolls. We have to play with the mermaids every time we get in the bath. It’s the rules.”
“Sounds like a smart rule,” I say, fetching a tub of deranged-looking Barbie dolls of all sizes, shapes, and colors from under the basin.
When I have the girls settled and their clothes on the countertop, a safe distance from the splashing, I ask Ava, “Does your Daddy ever leave you two alone in the bath, Ava? Even for a few minutes? I didn’t think to ask him that this morning before he left.”
Ava nods, barely looking up from where she’s passing all the pink mermaids to Bella, “Yeah, all the time. I’m a big girl. I’m four, almost five.”
“I’m three, almost four!” Bella pipes up. “I’m big, too.”
Ava gives an indulgent, elder-sister eye roll. “Yes, but I’m still the biggest. And I know how to play safe in the bath.”
“Me, too,” Bella adds. “I never go under or stand up unless Daddy or Grammy are here to make sure I don’t get hurted.”
“Perfect, brilliant, and amazing,” I tell them as I back toward the door.
“You two clearly have this on lock. So, I’m going to run downstairs really fast, get the sick all cleaned up, and be right back.
That way, we can start playing with toys and having fun as soon as you guys are done with your bath. ”
“Okay, but don’t run,” Ava says. “You might fall on the stairs. Like I falled when I was little. And you could get an owie. You have to go slow with your stick to be safe.”
I hesitate, grip tightening on my cane as my chest starts to ache again. “You’re so right. Thank you for reminding me to be safe, Ava. That’s very sweet of you. And this is my cane, not a stick. It helps me get around while my leg is healing.”
Ava glances down before her gaze slides back to my face. “What happened to your leg? How did it get hurted?”
“It was broken in an accident,” I say, deciding to leave the “car” part out of the equation, not wanting to give the girls anything else to be stressed about. “But it’s getting better now.”
“Does it hurt?” she asks.
“A little bit sometimes,” I admit. “But not today. I’m having a good day today.”
Ava beams. “I’m having a good day, too. I like having a bath in the morning instead of at night. It’s fun.”
“I like a bath any time of day,” I agree. “Baths are always fun.”
“Yay, bath!” Bella cheers.
Laughing, I say, “Okay, I’ll be right back, but holler at me if you need anything. I’ll have my listening ears on.”
“Okay!” the girls say in tandem, already back in the thick of some intense mermaid pretend.
Apparently, the pink mermaids are trying to convince the blue mermaids to go on a quest to the land beyond the waterfall, but they’re scared.
Which is understandable.
A quest is not a thing to be undertaken lightly.
Neither is a nanny job, I’m starting to realize as I head downstairs, already feeling like I’m leaving a piece of my heart in the bathroom with those two squirrels.