“And do you have a puppy?” Rosie asks.
I laugh as I stand. “No. Sorry. No puppies.”
“That stinks. I was hoping you’d have a puppy.”
She presses her lips together again and blinks her eyes at me. I wonder if it’s normal to feel guilted by a four-year-old that I just met.
“Maybe someday,” I offer. “But I definitely can get you cake for dinner. Do you like cake?”
She takes my hand. “I love cake.”
I look up at Jaxi and shrug. Her face breaks out into the best smile I’ve seen from her today and that, despite all of today’s shitstorm, feels really damn good.
I have no idea what just happened or what’s about to come. All I know is that I have to take it one step at a time.
Even if it’s the small steps of a four-year-old.
Twelve
Jaxi
I stand at the window and watch Boone and Rosie at the pool. He bends down at the edge and pretends to point to something. Rosie bends down, too, to see what he’s showing her. Before she knows what’s happening, he splashes her with a handful of water.
She stands, her face dripping with water, and laughs so hard I think she might fall face forward into the pool.
Penelope Rose Woods, the name I learned was hers from her birth certificate, reminds me so much of her mother. Her calm, assessing demeanor is Nettie all over again. Her fearlessness too. What child doesn’t seem terrified to be staying with two people she’s never met?
Nettie’s child. That’s who.
I’m still floored at how she read both Boone and me. It’s the only word I can use to explain it. Touching Boone’s watch and then determining that he would have been friend with Nettie was one thing. But then touching my face, staring into my eyes … There was no fear there. It was as if she just saw me and knew we’d be fine.
“We’re going to have fun, aren’t we?”
More tears spring to my eyes. I’m not generally a crier, but I just don’t know how to process this.
I look up. I will take care of her, Nettie. I swear.
I spin around and plop myself on the sofa. Boone told me to take a minute to myself, and I’m forever grateful for the small gift.
My head begins to pound. It’s as though it was lingering all day and just waiting for a moment of quiet so it could really be felt.
I massage my temples as I try to get myself together. Before I can get a thought out, my phone buzzes.
Caroline Kapowski: I wanted to let you know that we really are sorry to hear about your sister and wish you all the luck in the world with your niece. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. I know we never got the opportunity to meet, but my in-laws adore you, and I know we would too.
My shoulders sag.
As if this day hadn’t been horrible enough, I had to call Caroline and tell her what happened to Nettie. She was so kind about it that I couldn’t speak. I was grateful Boone had taken Rosie outside for some fresh air so I could deal with telling Caroline.
Me: Thank you. I appreciate that more than I could tell you. I’m sorry things didn’t work out for us.
I set the phone down and stare at my words. Am I sorry things didn’t work out for me and the Kapowskis?
“No pineapple drinks,” I say, leaning back against the cushions. “No beaches and no hikes through the rain forest.”
I close my eyes and try to center myself.
Images of Hawaii and the things I’d hoped to do there—the sense of the fresh start I was hoping to make, come fluttering back to me. The squeal of Rosie outside the windows breaks through them.
Just looking in her little eyes today struck a chord in me. I could see my childhood in the hazel-colored irises. I was reminded of Jeanette and my mother. It brought back the way our house smelled like roast beef and how the blankets on my bed were itchy. All of the things I’d mostly forgotten.
I might not have known that Rosie existed before today but having her in my life changed it—is changing it. She’s a connection to my past that I didn’t know I could have.
That I didn’t know I needed.
I stand just as they come in through the kitchen door from the backyard. Rosie’s cheeks are flushed, and a big smile splits them.
Boone laughs. “This one is a handful.”
“I am not! I only want a puppy!” She juts her bottom lip way out. “A black and white one with big, floppy ears.”
Boone makes a face at her. “Puppies poop in the yard. That’s gross.”
“Not if you clean it up.”
“You clearly don’t know me,” Boone says, chuckling. “Anyway, puppies are Jaxi’s territory. She gets to make all of those hard decisions.”