“It’s an extra fancy kind of braid that sort of looks like a fish’s tail. I can show you how to do it, too, if you want.”
“Uncle Jagger has a dress-up box for us at his house,” Olivia added.
Jagger gave me an inconspicuous smirk.
“I’ve actually seen it. I bet we can come up with a different hairstyle for each outfit in there. Do you think you can draw some of your favorite clothes from the box?”
Both girls nodded eagerly.
“Maybe on the way back to Uncle Jagger’s house, you can do that, and we can sketch the hairstyle you want with each outfit?”
Their little eyes widened. “Uncle Jagger, can we stop to get paper?” Amelia clasped her hands into the praying position.
“And crayons,” Olivia added.
He smiled. “Sure, why not?”
Jagger thanked Octavia and the foster parents, and the four of us went on our merry way.
I pointed to a strip mall on the right side of the road on our way back to the airport. “There’s a craft store in there. We can get paper and crayons.”
Jagger navigated into the parking lot. As we started to unload, his phone rang. “It’s a local number. Probably the…” He pointed to the girls with his eyes.
“Take it,” I said. “The girls and I will be fine in the craft store. Right, ladies?”
Olivia took my hand without having to be prompted. “We’re going shopping!”
I chuckled. “We’ll see you inside when you’re done.”
The craft store was a dangerous place to send me with two little girls. By the time Jagger caught up to us, we had sketch pads, crayons, colored pencils for Amelia—because crayons were apparently for babies—an origami kit, two bracelet-beading boxes, and four animal crochet kits.
He raised a brow. “I was only gone five minutes.”
“Consider yourself lucky we’re in Michaels and not a clothing boutique or a jewelry store.”
It wasn’t until we were back on the plane that Jagger and I had a minute to talk alone again. Olivia and Amelia were busy drawing the outfits they were going to wear so we could plan their hairstyles.
“How was your call?” I asked quietly.
“Catherine won’t eat. She thinks they’re putting something in her food, and she’s upset because she believes the landlord is going to read her journals.”
“Journals?”
Jagger nodded. “She goes through one or two notebooks a month. Has been doing it since she was a teenager. There are more than a dozen boxes of them in a storage facility. The first thing I do when she gets admitted into any hospital—after I make sure the kids are okay—is have a few blank journals delivered to her ward. It helps her to write down her paranoia.”
The picture he painted kept getting bleaker and bleaker. I looked over at the girls. “It must be so hard on them.”
“The worst part is never knowing what you’re going to come home to. One day your mother is smiling and singing along with the radio when you get back from school, cooking your favorite meal, and the next she’s unscrewed all the electrical outlets and pulled out the wires so no one can listen in on her conversations, and she just stares atthe TV from the couch for four straight days.”
I wasn’t sure if that story was about his sister or his mother, not that it mattered. But I reached over and took his hand. Jagger looked down at our linked fingers for a long time. “Thank you for coming.”
“It’s my pleasure.” I bumped my shoulder with his, trying to keep the mood light, though I felt myself falling fast. “I enjoyed coming earlier, too.”
***
It was nine o’clock that night before the girls started getting ready for bed. We’d spent most of the day doing hair and playing dress-up. I was glad I’d stayed, not only because I was able to keep his nieces’ minds off things, but because Jagger had gotten a half-dozen work phone calls and needed to go into his home office to speak in private. This really was the worst time for him to take custody of two little girls. And the last thing those little angels needed was to hear their uncle raising his voice and getting upset.
Jagger started getting the girls to bed in the guest room while I went to use the bathroom across the hall. I tied my hair up in a ponytail and slowed as I stepped out, hearing my name coming from across the hall.
