The Amendment (The Contract 2)

1

Richard

It was late when I finally pulled into the driveway, sighing with relief at being home. I used to love traveling for work, but now, I found I dreaded going. I hated leaving Katy and my girls.

My flight had been delayed leaving Toronto, then again departing Calgary, and it had been a long day. I reminded myself to speak to our travel specialist who handled our bookings. I wanted direct flights—no more stops.

I noticed although the house was dark, two lights shone in the night. The one over the front door for me and the muted glow coming from the nursery window. That meant Katy was awake with Heather, no doubt feeding her.

I pushed open my car door and stretched. The streetlamp glinted off something white, catching my eye, and I glanced toward it with a frown. I jogged down the driveway, confused at the half-dozen campaign signs on my lawn. All the political parties were represented. With a curse, I yanked them all out of the grass and carried them to the garage, tossing them into the corner. I grabbed my small suitcase and hurried into the house.

I took the steps two at a time, stopping to drop my bag into our room, then headed next door to the nursery. Exhaustion, stress, and the tension of the day drained away at the sight before me.

Dozing in the huge cuddle chair was my beautiful wife, Katy. Cradled in her arms was our baby, Heather. Tucked beside them was my Gracie. She lay across her mother’s lap like a starfish, taking up as much room, and no doubt her mother’s attention, as possible. A discarded bottle lay on the floor. They were a beautiful trio, and my little girls were both growing up far too fast for my liking.

I bit back my amusement watching them. I pulled my phone from my pocket, snapped a couple of pictures before I crossed the room to try to help settle my girls in their proper places.

I eased Heather from Katy’s arms, whispering assurances to Katy as she stirred. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got her.”

“You’re home,” she mumbled. “You’re late… We waited.”

“I know, baby. I’m sorry.”

She tried to pat my face and missed. “S’okay.”

Chuckling, I held her hand, kissing the palm. “I’m here now.”

“Missed you.”

Her words warmed my heart. I pressed a kiss to her head. “I missed you.”

“Hmmm.” Was all I got.

“Is she all fed?”

“Yes, all fed. Again.”

I grinned. Heather had a voracious appetite. Constantly hungry and impatient when she was made to wait for her meal.

“Okay, stay there. I’ll be back.”

She smiled, sleepy and content, letting her eyes drift shut.

Heather snuggled close to me, and I stood by her crib, not wanting to tuck her in quite yet. She was a warm, sweet-smelling weight in my arms. I rocked side to side in the motion that always soothed her, loving how she felt nestled to my chest. Finally, I laid her down, stroking the wild hair away from her forehead. She had inherited my cowlick. If she was anything like me, it was going to drive her crazy.

Once I made sure she was settled, I went back to the chair, studying Gracie. She was a light sleeper, and I knew there was a good chance once I tried to move her, she would be awake, and nothing short of one of our Daddy and Gracie raids on the ice cream tub would lull her back to sleep. We would sit at the table, her on my lap, the ice cream tub in front of us, and I would feed her tiny mouthfuls and listen to her babble on about some great event in her day, trying not to grin like an idiot the way her lisp made some words sound.

“It wath tho funny, Daddy! I laugh and laugh!”

Luckily, she must have been exhausted, because she stayed asleep through the lifting, carrying, and re-tucking into her little princess bed. Bending low, I kissed her curls, my love for her bursting in my chest.

Then I returned to the nursery. With no children on top of her, Katy had curled into a ball and was sound asleep. I tried not to laugh. She probably wouldn’t remember me coming home or talking to me, albeit briefly, when she woke up in the morning. I bent, sliding my arms under her and carrying her to our bed. Her side of the bed was straight and tidy. She had obviously been sleeping on my side, the pillow wrinkled and bunched, the blankets thrown back. She always slept there when I was gone. She said it was the only way she could sleep when I was away. My side of the bed, dressed in one of my shirts, and clutching my pillow.

I pulled back the blankets on her side and slid her in. I left her sleeping, grabbed a long, hot shower, and got ready for bed, slipping in beside her. In a second, she was nestled against me, her head on my chest and her leg tossed over mine—my own personal starfish. There was no doubt Gracie had inherited that from her.