From her spot on the edge of the exam table, Frankie did as she was told, opening her mouth so wide I didn’t know how he wasn’t looking at the inside of her stomach. She gurgled an elongatedahhhhhthat was mixed with a giggle and did her best not to fall into a fit of laughter when Kale put a depressor against her tongue and shined a light on her throat.
“Oh, no.” If Kale weren’t acting a fool, exaggerating his worry, I would have been on him in a flash, demanding to know which of the bajillion horrible illnesses could be the actual culprit for her symptoms.
So yeah.
I’d tumbled down the rabbit hole of internet searches on my phone while I’d been watching her sleep her fever away this last weekend.
Apparently, Google was the number you were actually supposed to multiply your worry by.
Because that shit was scary.
But Kale was being Kale.
Tossing out teases at Frankie like they were candy.
Frankie’s eyes went wide. “What’s it, Uncle Kale?”
He dropped his voice to a secretive whisper. “Don’t tell anyone, but I think there are monsters living in your throat.”
Frankie giggled harder and lifted her shoulders to her chubby cheeks. “Nu-uh. There no monsters livin’ in my throat.”
Kale huffed dramatically. “And how do you know that? I’m the doctor here.”
“My daddy told me there’s no such fing as monsters.”
“And your daddy is smarter than I am?” With the way Kale cut me an evil eye, I wondered how much of his offense was feigned.
“Course he’s smarter than you. He’s the smartest daddy in the whole, whole, whole wide world.” Her arms pumped up higher every time she repeated the word. She glanced over at me. “Right, Daddy?”
I shrugged from where I was leaned against the wall with my arms crossed over my chest. “My daughter is the smartest kid around. She knows her stuff.”
He quirked a brow. “And thatstuffis that you’re actually smarter than I am?”
My lips twitched. “Guess so.”
This time Frankie threw her arms all the way in the air. “I know all the stuffs.”
“Is that so?” He poked her belly. Instantly, she was howling, grabbing at his hand.
“It’s so! It’s so! It’s so, so, so.” She kept chanting as he jumped into a full-fledged tickle attack, and my chest was doing that crazy thing where it felt too full and too proud and too content, which happened just about every damned time I looked my daughter’s way.
I was telling no lies.
She was my light.
The life inside me.
She sobered about as quickly as she’d collapsed into laughter. “Am I alls better, Uncle Kale?”
He touched her chin with his knuckle. “All better, pumpkin pie.”
Her face scrunched. “I don’t likes punkin’ pie, Uncle. I likes cherry pie.”
Of course she did.
Incredulous, his brow lifted. “You want me to call you cherry pie?”
He was holding back laughter, looking over at me like he was just waiting for me to bust up.
