that's not a legitimate food group. How about I make you some French toast," she said noticing a few eggs left in the carton on the counter marooned amongst the shells and broken eggs. While she cooked, she could clean that mess up. "You three sit down and I'll get some lunch for you."
She found another frying pan, milk in the refrigerator, some bread in a bag on the counter, and mixed up some French toast for the crew. While that was cooking, she set out plates and cutlery. The girls didn't seem the least fazed by a complete stranger working in their kitchen.
Did this happen often?
With a guy as good looking as Wyatt? Maybe.
She wiped and washed and tossed and tidied while the French toast fried. When it was done, she placed slices on the kids’ plates, pouring syrup over top. Maybe not the most nutritious meal, but it was all she could come up with based on what was available in the kitchen.
Which wasn't much.
How long has this been going on, she wondered, watching as the girls gobbled up the pieces of toast she gave them.
Maya gave Adele a broad, syrupy grin, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before Adele could catch her. "Yummy in my tummy," she pronounced. Adele grabbed a tea-towel, dampened it, and wiped the girls’ hands and faces, then handed it to Dean, who cleaned himself up.
"Oh no," Maria pronounced, her eyes wide, her hand over her mouth. "We didn't pray."
Really? Her father was lying in bed with a roaring fever, the house was topsy-turvy, they had been on their own who knows how long, and all she was concerned about was grace?
"I'm sure it's okay," Adele said, giving her an encouraging smile, thinking back to the scattered times Sally and Dean would pray for their food.
Maria shook her head, suddenly solemn. "No. We need to pray."
Maya was nodding along, her crown bouncing in her curls. "Daddy always does."
"Okay." Obviously, this was a priority.
Adele sat down beside the girls and folded her hands, figuring it wouldn't hurt for now. She could manage some kind of prayer for the kids’ sake. She used to pray, but she and God hadn't talked much since her foster father died.
"Thanks for the food," she mumbled. "And be with...be with Daddy. Help him get better."
"Amen," both girls pronounced, then jumped off their chairs.
"Can we watch TV?" Maya asked, her hands on her hips, her head jutted to one side as if expecting opposition from the adult in the room. Despite the circumstances, Adele had to laugh at the little girl. With her crooked crown and over-the-top princess dress, it was hard to take the little spitfire seriously.
She should say no, but she needed some respite from the kids to give herself time to process everything that had just happened.
And clean up this disaster of a kitchen while she figured out the next step.
"Sure you can," she said, giving in and ushering them into the family room. The television was still on, but she turned it down a few notches. For Wyatt's sake.
She looked over at Dean, trying to gauge how he was managing. She crouched down beside him, her hand on his knee. "So, how are you doing, buddy?" she asked, her tone quiet, calm, she hoped.
Dean just nodded, his attention on the television.
All the way down here all he could talk about was how excited he was to meet his daddy. His enthusiasm had worried her.
Worried her more than the tears he had shed after Sally's death.
"I'll be in the kitchen, okay?"
Again a quick nod and then a smile.
She should be happy he was so calm, but she wondered when this would all sink in.
She was having difficulty enough coping with the situation.
Not for the first time, she regretted her decision to bring him here.
But what else could she have done? What other options did she have? Sally had set this all up. Had told Dean, despite Adele's pleas to say nothing, that he would see his daddy when she was gone. Had made Adele promise, as she lay dying, to take Dean to his father.
Suppressing her concerns and worries, Adele returned to the kitchen. As she washed and tidied, she was pleased to see that overall the kitchen was more messy than dirty. However sick Wyatt was, and however long he had been sick for, he at least seemed to be able to keep the place clean. She wondered where his wife was. The