They were okay. Dear goodness, they were okay. And they were going to keep being okay. Even without a frog habitat, they were fine.
Not in the sense of the word when a person said it because everything was a mess. They really were making it. How had she not seen it?
Thank you, she mouthed to Jack.
Since Rohan was receptive to her embrace, she savored it as long as he would allow.
“I wrote you a song, Jack.” Harmony skipped to their group huddled around the frog habitat. She gave a cursory glance at the new addition in the garden, but kept her enthusiasm thoroughly curbed. Clearly, she had other things on her mind.
This was Harmony, though. Therefore, this was not a surprise.
She held out her pink glittered notebook for Jack.
Rohan must’ve recognized they had an audience, because hugging time was over. He quickly released his mom, but she didn’t feel the pinch of loss. Rohan wouldn’t want to be seen as a baby around his sister. Hugging mom broached into baby Lola territory.
What she found interesting was that he was fine doing the hugging around Jack. That was interesting. She’d have thought he would’ve tried to impress him with outdated ideas of amphibious masculinity.
“I love songs,” Jack said, turning his attention to Harmony.
Mayonnaise meandered to their group with Lola, who followed behind and plopped her tush down to play with Rohan’s plastic frogs.
He allowed it, even sitting next to her to show how the habitat worked.
Yes, they were fine.
A sigh released from her chest.
With the whole crew present, the only one they missed was Kitty. Though Kitty had been more absent since she’d found Beast and adopted Captain Jack. Those three had spent a lot of time together. It seemed that Kitty had found her match. Matches, as it were.
“Let’s get to this song,” April said, channeling every bit of the good mood of her day.
“I can’t wait to hear it,” Jack added.
Harmony stood there, her big eyes boring right into Jack like he’d lost all his marbles in the frog habitat. She held her glittered notebook out to him. “Ican’t sing it.”
Jack took the notebook with such reverence that those tears April had held back were coming closer and closer to the surface.
“Why can’t you sing it?” Jack asked, reading over the top page.
Harmony shrugged her little shoulders. “Because there’s no music.”
April gave Jack a well-it-does-make-sense look.
“You have to read it out loud,” Harmony said, a touch of disappointment already lacing her tone. “You’re the guest. That’s the rules.”
Jack’s eyes caught April’s, and there was a whole lot of exchange in that look between them. Her kids adored him. She adored him. Mayonnaise adored him. If Kitty had a vote, she’d say that she adored him.
So what exactly was April’s problem with further exploration of what they could become?
She glanced at the grass. As winter approached, it got crunchier by the day.
Which was precisely what would eventually happen to this thing between her and Jack. Right now, it was new and pretty—shiny, even. But eventually they’d argue. One of them would raise their voice. Probably both of them.
She couldn’t do that again. Couldn’t wonder, when Jack stomped out of the room because of a misspoken word or unkind argument, if he would be leaving for good. Leaving to go to someone else shinier and newer. Someonenother.
A weighted feeling of unease settled over her. That wasn’t the whole truth, though. Not all of it. Maybe just a corner piece of it.
More than anything, she needed to prove to herself that shecoulddo this by herself. That she didn’t need someone to be her training wheels.
