“My mom taught me and my brothers how to cook. She used to say that her boys would know their way around a kitchen so that when we got married we wouldn’t put all the cooking on our wives.”
“Smart lady.”
“The smartest.”
“How many brothers do you have?”
“Three. Two live in Connecticut with their wives and kids, and my brother Levi and his wife, Fawn, live across the hall.”
“And your parents?”
“They still live in Connecticut, in the house I grew up in. What about your family?”
All of a sudden, she looks away. I don’t think she’s going to answer, but when she does it’s in a voice that makes my chest hurt.
“I grew up in foster care. I don’t know who my parents are, and I don’t have any siblings—or I don’t know if I do or not.”
“I’m sorry, baby.” I touch her knee, and she nods without looking up at me. I try to imagine Courtney as a little girl growing up without the support only a family can give. My heart aches for her. I can’t even begin to understand what that must have been like for a child.
“It’s okay. It’s my life, and part of my story.”
“Yeah, still, I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” Her eyes meet mine.
“Daddy!” Maddi calls.
I find her standing outside her bedroom door, rubbing her eyes. I lift her up off the ground. “You okay, honey?”
“Who’s she?” she asks quietly, pointing at Courtney.
“My friend Courtney. She helped me get you home.” I kiss the side of her head, noting that it now feels completely cool against my lips.
“She’s pretty,” she whispers.
I grin at my baby girl. “She is,” I agree, carrying her across the room. “Courtney, I’d like you to meet Madeline. Madeline, this is Courtney.”
Courtney comes over to us. “It’s so nice to meet you, Madeline.”
“You too,” Maddi says softly, tucking her small body closer to mine.
“Are you feeling better?” Courtney asks her, starting to reach out to touch her but pulling back before she makes contact. Maddi nods. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really.”
“Is your tummy still bothering you?”
Maddi’s eyes come to me before she looks at Courtney, shaking her head no.
“I got you some popsicles.”
“Popsicles?”
“Yeah, special ones,” she says.
I remember shoving a box of Pedialyte pops into the freezer.
“Okay,” Maddi says. Then she turns to look up at me. “I don’t have to miss the party, do I, Daddy?”
“I don’t know, honey. I think we need to wait and see how you feel over the next couple of days.”
“Oh man.” She drops her head back dramatically before lifting it again. “I promise I feel better already.”
“I’m sure you do, honey, but we still need to see how you feel in a couple days.”
She sighs like she’s sixteen instead of six, and then her eyes get big. Even anticipating what’s about to happen, I’m still not able to move fast enough.
She leans forward and pukes down the front of Courtney’s dress.
“Oh, sweetie,” Courtney whispers, looking worried. She pulls Maddi’s hair away from her face as she continues to gag, then looks up at me with concerned eyes. “Maybe you should put her in the shower while I clean this up.”
I nod, then carry my baby to the shower. I help her out of her nightgown and hand her a toothbrush while we wait until the water’s warm. I place my hand against her forehead to make sure it’s still cool, then I put her under the spray.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whimpers.
My gut tightens with worry. “It’s okay, honey.” I wash her hair, then get her out, wrap her in a towel, and carry her back to her bedroom. “Let’s get you dressed and back into bed.”
She nods, looking tired.
Once she’s tucked back in, I sit on the side of her bed and caress her cheek. I run my hand over the top of her head. There is really no worse feeling than when your kid is sick and you’re completely helpless to do anything about it but let the illness run its course.
“Is she okay?” At Courtney’s quietly spoken question, I look toward the door.
“Yeah.”
“Is she sleeping?”
“Yeah.” I rub my hands over my face, then stand.
“Maybe you should take her to the doctor,” she says as I step out of the room.
“I called her doc when you were at the store. She said the same thing you said earlier. There is a bug going around, and there is nothing she can do for her unless she gets dehydrated. She said just to let her rest and make sure she keeps drinking.”
“Poor girl.” She looks over my shoulder toward Maddi’s bed. When I look at the mess on her dress, I cringe.
“Let me get you something to wear.”
“That’s not necessary. I’ll go home and change.”
“Courtney, she puked on you. I’m not letting you leave like that.” I take her hand and lead her toward my bedroom, letting it go only when I open the top drawer of my dresser, where I keep my T-shirts. I hand her one, then open another drawer and give her a pair of my sleep pants. “You can use the shower.” I nod toward the bathroom door. “Clean towels are on the shelf behind the door. Use whatever you want in there.”