Not in my life.
I slid an arm along her waist and looked down at her face.
Her fat lip was nearly gone, but the bruising at her cheek had darkened.
By my experience, she had another day of purpling in that bruise before it started to fade.
It was good she wasn’t going to school like that.
I gave her waist a squeeze.
“Sleep okay, honey?”
“Mm,” she mumbled, and I hoped that was a yes.
“You want coffee?”
“Mm,” she mumbled again, this time nodding a bit in the affirmative, giving me a clue.
I moved her with me, not letting her go as I got a mug out of the cupboard and then poured her some coffee. We shuffled as one to the fridge to get the milk, shuffled back, and I sploshed in milk and spooned in two sugars, handing her the cup when I was done. She lifted her head just enough to take a sip as I reached for mine and followed suit.
“You want me to toast you some Pop-Tarts?” I asked, giving her another squeeze. I looked down at her and smiled. “We won’t tell your dad. Our secret.”
She grinned a sleepy grin back at me.
“Depends, Toots,” she murmured. “It’s your choice for breakfast today. What’re we havin’?”
I stared down at her.
So far, I hadn’t had my choice for breakfast.
Something about getting my turn rushed through me warm and sweet too.
“Well, you and your brother always pick waffles or French toast, so I’m going to switch it up a bit. Bacon and eggs.”
“Dad makes awesome poached eggs.”
I bet he did.
“And fried,” she went on.
“I’m sure he does, sweetie.”
“And scrambled. And eggs Benedict. He makes the sauce from scratch and everything.”
I found this interesting.
Hollandaise sauce was not easy, even for experienced cooks.
Buck was a fantastic cook, but that took it to a whole new level.
I took another sip of coffee then stated, “Eggs Benedict it is. Then, we’ll get showered and you and I’ll take the Charger on its maiden voyage. Well, not maiden as it’s a classic car, but maiden voyage for us.”
She tipped her head to the side, her eyes lightly dancing.
“Maiden voyage?”
“Yes, its first journey, or its first with you and me.”
“I know what it means, Toots, but who talks like that?”
I grinned at her, lifted my mug and said, “Me.”
She grinned back and I kept talking.
“I have to go to the grocery store. I take goodies into the folks at Ace. They like the homemade ones best. I’m thinking a cake. Some kind of sheet cake. One that goes far. Like chocolate with cream cheese frosting and maybe we’ll sprinkle mini-chocolate chips on top. What do you think? You want to go to the store with me and then help me bake a cake?”
“Sure, that’d be cool,” she whispered, that hint of surprise on her face again.
I guessed she and Kristy didn’t often bake together.
That was awful, and the sweet warmth washed out of me as I realized that I’d always yearned for a mom who would put me on a stool and wrap a kitchen towel around me and teach me how to bake even as I made a mess. And then later guide the way as I made treats for my boyfriends.
Tatie actually had a mom, and she didn’t have that.
It was high time, for both of us, and thinking that, I gave her a squeeze.
“Then our plans are set for the day,” I decided, at the same time deciding more.
She had a dad who seemed to be able to kit out his room pretty well, but Tatie’s was like a guest room.
That week, we were going to fix up her room.
And get her more vampire novels.
And journals.
Makeup and jewelry and clothes too. She had to get right back in the saddle of being at one with who she was and caring how she looked, something she’d done pre-incident, and I was going to see to it that she continued to do so now.
Her father was okay with handing off hundreds of dollars to me to “have fun,” I had no doubt he’d be okay with my plans.
These were my happy thoughts as Tatie tensed and her head turned to look out the windows.
I followed her gaze and saw a car heading fast up the graveled drive. It, too, was a classic car, like the Nova and Charger.
What it was not was a cool classic car that was restored and well taken care of.
It was a junker.
“Holy shit, that’s Mom,” Tatie breathed, and I sucked in my own breath.
“Sorry?” I whispered.
She pulled woodenly away, and I saw her face was panicked when she looked up at me.
“Clara, God, that’s Mom!”
Oh dear.
“Go,” I ordered, putting down my coffee mug. “Go now. Wake up your dad.”
She didn’t move.
“Tatie, honey, go,” I repeated, taking her mug away and setting it beside mine. “Now, baby.”