the vehicles in the car line were minivans.
Mrs. Bardowski shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her gaze bouncing between watching Chloe fumble with the harness straps of her car seat and fleetingly regarding me in the driver’s seat.
“I trust you had a pleasant morning, Mrs. Bardowski.” I tried to mean the words with my whole heart, but a part of me hoped she’d stepped on a stray jack with bare feet. I pushed my lips even farther into a fake smile to conceal my thoughts.
Her returning smile appeared as stilted as mine felt. “Yes, thank you.” She ducked her head to be able to see Chloe through the open window. “See you tomorrow, Chloe.”
Chloe waved goodbye and I pressed on the accelerator. The sting would lessen after a few days and I’d be able to pick up and drop Chloe off without feeling like the cartoon drawing of the frog choking the throat of the bird.
“How was school?” I peered into the rear-view mirror to look at Chloe.
“We learned the letter S. Sun, snake, spider. S.”
My chest expounded in teacherly pride. Watching the lightbulb go off in kids’ brains as they grasped concepts gave me a satisfying thrill. “Very good.”
She beamed at me, kicking her feet into the back of the passenger seat.
“What do you want to do now? We can go back to your house and play and read books, or we can go to the park for a little bit if you’d like.”
“Books!”
I flinched and covered my ear with one hand. “We’re still inside the car, so let’s use our inside voices, okay?”
She grinned and continued kicking her feet. I’d need to clean the scuff marks off the leather, but at least my back had been spared her happy, booted strikes.
We pulled into the driveway, and I killed the engine. No one would look at the Reed house and think a doctor lived there. The single-family home with its paint-chipped siding was modest if not entirely modern. Then again, Ben had stressed he was still a resident, so he probably didn’t make as much money as one would associate with a doctor’s salary. Then there were student loans. Thankfully Dad had let me use his GI bill to pay for college, or I’d be racking up my fair share of debt as well.
I unbuckled Chloe, then used the key Ben had given me earlier to unlock the house. Chloe raced to a low bookcase filled with stacks of picture books and selected half a dozen or so, cradling them to her chest. The middle of her book sandwich began to ooze out like the gooey center of a grilled cheese. I dashed across the living room and rescued the books before they fell on her toes.
Sitting on the dark-gray mid-century modern style couch, I picked up the top book in the stack. Pete the Cat. I opened to the first page.
As if she were a cat herself, Chloe wormed her way between my legs and under the book, then proceeded to make herself comfortable on my lap. I smiled down at her and rearranged my arm at her back to give her support in her cuddled position.
Pete the Cat sang a song in the book about his groovy buttons. Did I know the tune the author had in mind when he wrote the book? No. Did I make something up on the spot as I read/sang to Chloe? Darn tootin’. Chloe answered appropriately when the book asked if Pete should get upset over losing a button, then I repeated the little song. She took the book from my hands when it ended then handed me the next. Piggie and Gerald.
We settled back in against the comfy sofa cushions. As I got to the point where Gerald revealed to Piggie how he’d broken his trunk, Chloe reached her fingers up and stroked my cheek.
My voice stumbled over the words as I read. Being petted felt weird but also nice. Her fingers rubbed from my temple to my jaw throughout the rest of the stories. I closed the cover of the last book and she laid her head on my shoulder, her palm pressed against my cheek.
“Your beard is soft.” Her breath tickled my neck. “Not scratchy like Daddy’s when he doesn’t shave.”
My throat closed around a puff of air and I sputtered. Oh, Chloe. How did that saying go? Out of the mouths of babes?
My hand inched up to lightly touch along my jawline. Baby-soft hairs