“Good night, and sleep well, Jillian.Tomorrow, let’s do something fun, okay?”
With everyone upstairs, the cottage felt very quiet.Only the faint crackle and pop of the fire carried through the solid space.Laundry finished, Cat claimed her laptop, which had been charging on a side table in the sitting room, and sat down in one of the armchairs by the fire to continue going through the list of education jobs in Greater Detroit.
Rhys joined her ten minutes later, his footsteps heavy on the old staircase.
He was still wearing the old gray sweater that had seen better days, his dark hair slightly ruffled, but best of all, he looked happy.
“All tucked in?”she asked, closing her laptop halfway.
He crossed the room to sit in the chair opposite hers.“Yes.”He hesitated before thoughtfully adding, “You were right about reading.I never had that growing up.But it was the perfect thing to do.Olivia loved it, and even Jillian became engrossed by the end.She pretended she didn’t, but she was smiling when she went upstairs.”
Cat smiled.“She’s at that age, too cool for magic but still wants to believe.”
“How did you know?”he asked after a moment.
“About what?”
“That they would enjoy a story?”
“It’s not just that they would enjoy a story, but a story read by you.Your voice, your inflection, you.”
“Did your father read to you then?”
She nodded and forced away the lump in her throat, willing herself to not be emotional now.“Dad read to me virtually every night until he died.I think we started when I was quite little, three or four.And by four I could read books on my own, but it was a ritual we had, him reading to me before bed, and we both looked forward to it.”
“What did he read to you?”
“Everything.We were working our way through all the Harry Potter books when he died.We’d just begunDeathly Hallows—” She broke off, managed a crooked smile even though her insides felt increasingly unsettled.“I never wanted to finish it after he was gone.”
“So, you don’t know how the story ended?”
“I Googled the ending a few years ago, out of curiosity, and I’m glad to know how things resolved, but it’s always been too painful to think about.”
“And the movies?”
She shook her head.“Can’t.I did try, but it made me wish my dad was there with me, so we could talk about it together.Because he didn’t just read, we’d talk about the story as he drove me to school, or while we ran errands.”
“I’m looking forward to reading more tomorrow,” Rhys confessed.“Part of me wants to keep reading now.”
“Oh no, you can’t!That’s cheating.”She flashed a teasing smile.“There are rules to reading a story together.You can’t jump ahead.You can’t read without the other person there.And if your voice gets tired, you can ask the other person to read for a while.”
Rhys expression gentled.“You still miss him.”
“Mmm.”For a moment she couldn’t speak.“I adored him.”But her voice cracked and she was dangerously close to tears.“We were close.I loved my mom, but I was definitely a daddy’s girl.”
“I don’t think I have that kind of relationship with my girls.”
“Maybe, or maybe you just don’t know how they feel.”
He looked down at his hands, flexed his right hand.“Because I’m always working?”
“I don’t think it’s that complicated.Just talk to them.Give them time every day to talk to you.Kids love to share what they’re thinking and feeling, and I imagine your girls would both like to hear more of your thoughts, and more about your day.Not just the safety stuff, or the be good and follow the rules stuff, but all the little things.Everything that makes one hope and dream.Like Narnia.”
“You’re rather wise, you know.”
“You mean opinionated.”Her smile curved, teasing, but then softened.“Losing my parents made me grow up faster than I wanted.But I had ten really good years with them.The best, actually.I hold on to that.”
He looked up, brow creasing.“You were far too young to go through something like that.”
