I’d made her a fairy garden in a small unused space in the backyard, which she’d been delighted by. Her imagination was something to behold, and giving her a bit of childhood magic almost did more for me than it did for her. We ‘fed’ them flowers, buttons, and other little treasures we found. I’d already been out to rearrange the little fairies we’d placed there so she thought they’d moved in the night.
“We’ll do it right now!” She pushed away as if to get up.
I placed my hand on hers. “We’re going to finish our own breakfast first,” I reminded her.
She resumed eating, though she took her bites at double speed. I smiled and took a bite of my own before swallowing, noting the heaviness of Beau’s gaze. He was still waiting for more. He needed to know every plan of our day before he leftfor the restaurant. Controlling, maybe? Overprotective, for sure. But I didn’t blame him. Clara was his everything. He’d watched an illness chisel away at her health, her vibrancy, then the thing that cured her made her immune system so delicate that a simple cold could land her back in the hospital.
And now that she was being allowed to tentatively go back into the world, it was exciting for her yet terrifying for him.
I’d made sure to keep our outings close, safe. Outdoors, no direct contact with people. If we were around them, Clara wore a mask, and sanitizer was my best friend. Even though Clara was excited about her newfound freedom, I knew it could be overwhelming for her too—such a sudden change, so much stimulation, being around more than a handful of people. Although most of the time she seemed so much older, she was still only four.
She’d been responding to it all with wonder and joy, but I never wanted to push her. Never wanted to make her afraid. I’d protect her precious little heart and her blinding smile with all my might. Not to mention, I did not want her to get sick. She was responding to the treatment at a remarkable rate and was able to do much more than was conventionally expected, but she was nowhere near out of the danger zone.
I swallowed my bite, running through the plans for the day and trying not to look directly at Beau.
“We’re going to go to the library.”
We’d go while it was quiet, not during story times, no groups of infectious toddlers. The librarian was aware of Clara’s condition and would text me if it was too busy.
I toyed with Clara’s hair. It was still wild from sleep. “Once we get you dressed, hair done. Then the park. Then Nora’s bakery. Then we’re going to come home, nap if you’re tired. Read if not. Then we’ll eat dinner.” I continued the pretense of telling Clara what the plan was, feeling Beau’s heavy, judging gaze.
Though we had officially entered fall, Maine had not clutched us with the chill I knew was coming. The mornings were cold, but the days were plenty warm enough for us to enjoy the fresh air and sunshine.
I waited with bated breath to see if Beau found any of this against whatever rules or set of standards he had for my time with Clara.
The past few years consisted of me working my ass off. Doing assignments, not sleeping, working two jobs on top of studying. Crying in the shower when I thought of Waylon and the disaster I’d made of my mind. I was always stressed, always running from one place to another, always exhausted.
I slept well here. The days with Clara were not rushed; we took our time. We picked daisies, we said hi to dogs on the street, chatting to whomever was working at Nora’s bakery. Clara’s favorite librarian would show her books she thought she’d like. We could simply be, enjoying without a deadline, without that sense of urgency that had pushed me through life in perpetual fight-or-flight mode.
“Oh, we may have tea with Gladys,” I added. Gladys was happy to abide by the protocols required to protect Clara’s immune system.
“Amazing!” Clara replied with her mouth full.
“Clara, swallow your food before you speak,” Beau grumbled. Then he finally looked at me. “Who the fuck is Gladys?”
I flinched, because he was addressing me directly and because he was asking a question that he should know the answer to. Maybe it was a joke. Even if he wasn’t smiling. But he was serious. Of course he was. He was always serious.
“She’s, um, your neighbor?”
I don’t know why I expected him to know Gladys. Even though she was his neighbor—had been since he’d moved in with his pregnant ex, whom Gladys said she always knew wastrouble—was friendly, adored Clara, and was often outside in her impeccable garden.
Now and then, we stopped by for afternoon tea, sitting outside, Gladys always an appropriate distance away from Clara. Clara ate cookies and read Gladys’s ballet books, oohing and aahing over gorgeous images of ballerinas in ornate costumes.Swan Lakewas her favorite.
“She said I can call her my next-door nana if I want,” Clara piped in, her plate clean. For a tiny girl, she could eat. I loved that for her. Loved to see her devouring life in all the ways she could, now that a sickness wasn’t draining the very marrow from her.
Even when she was sick, she was full of life. The first time I met her, I was struck by it. Her energy, vibrancy. But since the transplant, it was palpable, the fresh color in her cheeks, the meat she was putting on her petite frame. The future was laid out before her feet.
“Because I don’t have a nana of my own.” She hopped down from the chair, going on her tiptoes to try to retrieve the plate. I handed it down to her with a smile, watching as she bit her tongue while she balanced her silverware then climbed on her special step to deposit everything in the sink.
Beau’s face softened, changed, lost ten years as he lovingly helped his daughter rinse her dish, opened the dishwasher, put the plate in it, then kissed the top of her head.
“Well, that’s nice of her,” he murmured. “As long as she knows about the rules.”
Clara rolled her eyes. “She knows about outside, masks, hand washing.” She listed off what had been drummed into her since the transplant.
My heart bruised at how small Clara’s world had to be, even if she never made it seem that way.
I noticed Beau still for a moment, as if he were thinking the same thing. Naked pain marred his face, but only for a split second before his soft smile returned.
