When my sister and I were kids, Sistine used to make pancakes for us all the time. It was a bittersweet memory.
The girls had a bubble bath after breakfast. They had a grand time splashing each other in the giant bathtub in the master suite, but all I could see was how thin they were. The first thing I needed to do this morning was find the best pediatrician in the city of Gloucester and make them an appointment.
I don’t know how she did it, but the outfits and shoes Mandy dropped off last night for the girls fit perfectly. I made note of their sizes so I could buy what they needed.
“Is everyone ready to go to the firehouse and see Uncle Ozzy?” My heart pinched in my chest. Again. I could never thank Ozzy enough for what he’d done for us last night, and what he’d offered me today, but I couldn’t help wishing it had been Dallas.
I wasn’t a stupid man. I knew damn well that I was in over my head. I couldn’t honestly say what I would have done if the roles had been reversed and Dallas was the one who’d just gotten custody of two kids. I like to think I wouldn’t have run, but I couldn’t say for certain.
“I’m ready!” Sophie giggled. She was dressed in an Ariel tee and cute jeans with flowers embroidered all over them.
“Me!” Lola laughed too. She was wearing a denim dress with white tights. “See Mommy.” Lola’s sweet smile lit up her face.
My stomach dropped. I’d grabbed one of the books Mandy left for me last night about childhood grief. It suggested ways to talk to little kids about death, but never talked about what a gut punch it would be to hear my sweet little niece ask about her dead mother. “Mommy is in heaven.” I managed to keep my emotions under control.
“Me heaven.” Lola scooted off my lap. She scrambled onto the bed and grabbed her favorite giraffe. “Let’s go!”
The expectant look on Lola’s face nearly broke me. After the book explained how to tell toddlers about death, it went on to explain the child would ask the question repeatedly. I wasn’t sure I could do this every day. Lola was packed and ready to visit her mother in heaven, the same way she’d visit me at my old house in Newburyport. “We’re going to see Uncle Ozzy first, okay?” I mentally crossed my fingers.
“Okay!” Lola agreed.
Knowing I’d dodged a bullet, I turned to Sophie.
“I know about heaven.” She wore the saddest look I’d ever seen.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know how much you loved your Mommy. I did too. We have each other now. I promise to take good care of you and Lola.”
Sophie managed a watery smile. “I promise to take care of you too.” She threw herself into my arms.
I held Sophie as tight as I dared. She was much wiser than her nearly five years. I had a feeling she’d been the one taking care of Sistine, along with Lola. Well, as much as a four-year-old could help. I vowed that from here forward, Sophie was going to reclaim her childhood. I’d take all the hugs she could give, but she wasn’t going to be responsible for taking care of anyone.
“Ozzy!” Lola demanded from the doorway. She wore a mutinous look on her face.
I snorted and started to laugh. Seconds later, Sophie joined in. The testy look on Lola’s face melted and she hollered a laugh.
“Bye!” she announced, and headed for the stairs.
“Wait for me.” Christ, I didn’t want her falling down the stairs. I got there to see her holding on to the railing slats as she made her way down safely. My heart was pounding in my chest and the leftover adrenaline burned my fingertips. I mentally added baby gates to the list of things I needed to buy.
When we finally made it outside, I was surprised to see new car seats strapped into the backseat of my truck. I hadn’t noticed anyone installing them last night. One more thing to thank the McCoys for.
“Stop touching me!” Sophie yelled as I started backing out of the driveway.
I heard Lola blow a raspberry in response. She could obviously handle herself. I had to bite my lower lip to keep from laughing at their antics.
“Is this where you work, Uncle Saxon?” Sophie asked as we walked up to the front of the firehouse.
“Yup! This is it.”
“Vroom! Vroom!” Lola shouted. She ran