My Better Life

“And stay up late and tell spooky stories around the fire?”

I nod. “All of the above.”

The boys whoop and high five each other. I grin, then I feel a small hand tugging at my sleeve. Shay looks up at me, an impatient expression on her face.

“What is it?”

She frowns, her little nose wrinkling. I lean in, expecting a meow or a rawr, but instead she juts out her chin and points at the book.

I frown. “What?”

She points again.

“You want me to keep reading?”

She shakes her head, her pigtails swishing. Then she cuddles up against my arm and whispers, “I want you to teach me that word.”

I stare at Shay, completely stunned. She spoke. Shay spoke, and she has the cutest voice, with a lisp from a missing front tooth, and the sweetest, lilting accent. I look at her like a flower that just opened up for the first time, and I’m finally seeing what it looks like.

Tanner and Elijah quit hopping around and turn to watch Shay.

“She’s not a cat anymore,” Tanner says.

Elijah nods. “Huh. Guess not.”

Then Shay frowns and tugs my sleeve again, so I wipe the dumbfounded expression from my face and say, “You want me to teach you?”

“Uh huh.”

I grin and then point to the letters. “That’s an ‘h,’ it says hhhh. Here’s an ‘a,’ it says aaaa. That’s a ‘t,’ it says teh. Put them all together, hhhh-aaaa---ttt. It says—”

“Hat.” She smiles up at me, her eyes dancing.

“Hat,” I agree.

Then she climbs in my lap and turns the page. I’m too stunned to notice the writing on the next page, until Shay elbows me in the stomach. I grunt and then start to read again, helping her sound out the words.

Downstairs the front door shuts and Jamie calls, “I’m home!”

Elijah and Tanner rush down the ladder, sliding down the sides, but Shay stays put. “I want to read it.”

I nod. “We’ll be down in a minute,” I call.

Then I lean back against the wall of the loft, sink into the soft braided rug, and finish the book about the cat, the rat, and the hat.

When it’s done, Shay looks up at me, a happy smile on her face.

“I read.”

I nod. “You did.”

She considers me, and I get the feeling she’s weighing her words. So I tilt my head close and give her my full attention.

Finally she asks, “Are you going to leave us?”

I shake my head, confused by the concern in her eyes. “Why would I leave?”

She shrugs her little shoulders. “Sometimes dads leave.”