Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
“Pop-Pop can read to you tonight,” he says. “I’ll read to you another time, maybe. Whenever you’re ready.”
I exchange another look with my mother, this one conceding I’m impressed, before Mom shifts her gaze to Caleb and flashes him a sympathetic smile. “I’ll fetch you some pillows and blankets, honey. The couch is kind of lumpy. But at least, it’s better than the floor.”
Chapter 16
Aubrey
Iwake up in my childhood twin bed with a big yawn and pat the bed next to me for Raine. She’s not there. After a trip to the bathroom, I pad down the hallway on my way to the living room, waving to Mom on her stationary bike as I go.
In the living room, the couch is empty, other than a neatly folded blanket and pillow stacked to one side of it. No Caleb.
A cute giggle reaches me from the next room, the kitchen. So, that’s where I go next.
When I arrive in the doorway, my father, Caleb, and Raine—the little one standing on a chair next to towering Caleb—are in the midst of whipping up breakfast with enthusiasm. While Caleb supervises Raine, who’s mixing something in a bowl at the counter, Dad stands at the stove on one crutch, manning the griddle. All three backs are facing me, so I lean my shoulder against the door jam and take in the heartwarming scene.
“I had no idea you could mash up bananas to put into the batter,” Caleb says to Dad.
“It’s so much better than slicing bananas and putting them on top,” Dad replies. “Rainey loves it this way.”
“I luh it,” Raine confirms.
“And I love you,” Dad retorts.
I grin. That’s a classic Dad-ism. Any time I’ve ever said I love anything in this world, big or small, he always shoots back, “And I love you.” It’s lovely to watch my father getting to pour his love into another little girl. Also, to know Caleb is watching him, and, hopefully, learning the tricks of the trade from the best.
“Banana pancakes are actually Rainey’s second favorite,” Dad explains to Caleb. To Raine, he says, “Tell Coobie your favorite kind of pancakes, Rainey.”
“Chocky chip!” she answers proudly, still stirring whatever’s in her plastic bowl.
“Make a note of it, Coobie,” Dad says. “One day soon, you’ll be in charge of the pancake-making.”
“Got it,” Caleb says. “We’ll make sure to buy plenty of chocolate chips, the next time we go to the store.”
I smile again. We. It was a small word, and perhaps it meant nothing. But Caleb’s use of it makes me think he’s surrendered to the reality that, at least for the next three weeks, wherever he roams, he’ll always be a “we.”
“Yummmm,” Raine purrs.
“Oh my goodness,” Dad says. “Did you taste the batter, you little sneak?”
Raine squeals with delight, giving herself away, and all three break into happy guffaws.
“Okay, my little chef de partie,” Dad says to Raine, once his laughter subsides. “Let’s see if you’re done mixing.” To Caleb, he explains. “That means pastry chef in French.” Dad worked in fast food as a teenager. Apparently, he got the bright idea to assign everyone in the kitchen a fancy title, the same ones assigned in the fanciest French restaurants, and he’s been tossing out the verbiage ever since. With no hint of an actual French accent, by the way.
“Good?” Raine asks Caleb, looking up at him expectantly.
“Yup. Great job. Wait a minute, is that a finger-sized hole in there? That looks suspiciously like a Raine-sized finger hole to me!”
The trio breaks into happy guffaws again.
“It me!” Raine says gaily, and the trio cracks up, once again.
I clutch my heart. Is there a better sound in this world than a child belly laughing? If so, I haven’t discovered it yet.
“Okay, team,” Dad says. “Let’s make some batter with blueberries in it now. Grammy and Auntie Aubbey both love blueberry pancakes the most.”
“Yum,” Raine murmurs.
“Really?” Dad says. “I thought blueberry is your third favorite.”
“Tird,” Rainey confirms.
“But it’s still worthy of a yum?” Dad asks, laughing.
“Yummm,” Raine replies, with extra gusto, and the trio laughs together again.
“Can you hold up three fingers?” Dad asks Raine.
When she tries, and fails, Caleb maneuvers her little fingers to help her out. It’s a small thing, I know, the way Caleb’s massive, tattooed hands look while gently moving Raine’s little fingers into place. But it’s enough to send my heart beating in an irregular rhythm.
“There you go,” Caleb coos. He rustles Raine’s blonde hair. “Okay, chef party.” He looks at Dad. “Chef party?”
“Chef de partie.”
Caleb returns to Raine. “Hold tight onto the counter, chef de partie, while I get the blueberries from the fridge. Hold tight now. Good girl.” With Raine’s palms laid flush on the counter, Caleb turns toward the refrigerator and immediately discovers me standing in the doorway with my hands on my chest and moisture in my eyes.