“Hey, sugarplum. Let’s head inside and text your daddy, okay? Then we’ll make the biggest strawberry milkshake this town’s ever seen and figure out what’s made you so sad. Sound good?”
Lucy sniffled again and nodded, leaning against Daphne as she guided her through the shop door. Daphne had already turned the shop sign to Closed, but she flipped the lock into place to ensure no visitors and then sent Finn a quick text for direction.
After she’d distracted Lucy by asking her for help to make the milkshakes, and after Lucy’s sniffles died down a little bit, Daphne directed the little girl up the back stairs to her apartment and into a cozy chair in her living room.
One with pink pillows.
Very important.
Winston seemed to help a little too, his vigorous welcome ushering forth a little giggle. Winston was no stranger to crying princesses.
“It looks like this conversation requires a lot of pink, Lucy.” Daphne patted the fluffy shag pillow to her right. “And this is probably the best place for it.”
Lucy nodded, her large eyes still rounded and watery. She clutched the milkshake close and nestled in beside Daphne as they both snuggled up into the oversized chair. In pink from head to toe, even her hair bows, Lucy showcased her preference. Daphne sighed. She and Lucy were definitely soulmates.
“Okay, what happened today?”
Lucy’s bottom lip quivered, resulting in Daphne kissing her head. “It’s okay. We will figure it out, sugarplum. And when your daddy comes, he can help us too.”
Another quiver of the lip. A sip of milkshake.
“Was it something that happened at school?”
Lucy shook her head and took a long sip of the milkshake before answering. “On the bus.”
Ah, the school bus was a tricky place. Daphne had unhappy memories of some of the antics kids got away with on the school bus.
“Mavis was a second grader.”
Hmm... big girl picking on little girl scenario? Daphne’s internal radar spiked.
“And she said I talk funny.” Lucy sniffled. “I said I was from England, and den she said England people talk funny.”
“That wasn’t very nice at all. Or accurate.” Daphne had gotten used to some of Lucy’s distorted speech sounds, and they didn’t really impact comprehension all that much, except when Lucy spoke fast. “Did you tell her anything else?”
“I said I see a speech teacher for some of my hard sounds.”
Kudos to Finn for keeping his little girl informed, but oh my goodness, what a tough introduction to kindergarten. “Great job. I bet there are other kids in your class who see the speech teacher.”
Lucy nodded and took another drink of the milkshake. “Den Mavis asked if all English people looked like me.”
Looked? Daphne stiffened a little, a cool splash of caution seeping into her skin. “Well, that’s a funny question. Of course not all English people look like you, just like all Americans don’t look like me.”
“She...” Lucy’s bottom lip trembled anew, those emerald eyes searching Daphne’s face. “She asked if we all have broken faces. And... and a bigger boy on the school bus...” Her little voice increased in urgency. “He said my broken face was ugly.”
Oh.
Daphne blinked hard, her vision blurring for a moment.
She pulled Lucy into a hug, fierce and fast. “Oh, Lucy.”
If she’d been gifted with heat vision, the side of that school bus would be smoldering right now.
“It hurt my feelings.” Lucy’s bottom lip trembled again.
“I know it did.” Daphne kissed the top of her head. “It hurts because it’s not true, and your heart knows it.”
What on earth could she possibly offer to a little girl whose heart ached? Who needed some reassurances about truths and lies and all sorts of things in between?
