She’s wonderfully curious.
I twist off the cap of the water bottle and carefully pour it into the glass, then remove the plastic from the turmeric bottle. I check that it’s a shaker-style bottle and hand it to Lennon.
“Alright, Lenny. I’m going to let you have my magic so you can do it, okay?” I ask, my tone serious.
She nods her head like she’s swearing an oath.
“You’re going to shake a lot of this into the water. That’s it! That’s how you’ll do the magic!”
Her little hand wraps around the turmeric and takes it from me. She looks between the glass and me, so I nod encouragingly.
When she shakes a bunch into the water and sees the turmeric shooting to the bottom, making the area glow, she gasps, then squeals excitedly.
Mission accomplished. She is in awe of the golden glow.
“I thought that magic spell was reserved for kids who are at least eight,” a deep voice says from the doorway. I look over my shoulder, and Beck is there, his perfect teeth showing in a hell of a grin.
“Well, Beck, it seems like our girl here has enough magic to do it at six! Better watch out. She’s unstoppable with this kind of power.”
Our girl. I didn’t mean to say that. I also don’t mean to be getting as attached to this kid as I am, but I can’t help it. She’s quirky, witty, and clever as fuck for a kid her age, and her humor mirrors ours so perfectly.
“I can see that,” he says, sounding very impressed. “Unfortunately, though, even powerful witches have to go to bed.” He crosses the room and scoops her up into his arms.
I don’t know if he does it intentionally, but he runs his palm over the top of my hair before he gets her.
When he plops her down on her bed, he asks if she wants a song or a story. She chooses a story.
I stand up and start to make my way out of her room when I hear her call my name.
“Lovey? Maybe you can stay, too? Dad’s a really good reader, but sometimes he’s bad at voices,” she tells me.
Beckett scoffs. “That’s really unfair.”
She rolls her eyes and looks at me pointedly, like I get where she’s coming from. I clear my throat. “I’d love to, if it’s okay with your Dad.”
He grabs the book Lennon requested and sits down on the edge of her bed, patting the other side of her for me to sit down, too.
We take turns reading to her, and we decide to make it a bit silly by doing voices for each other. Lennon’s right, his feminine imitation could use a lot of work, but I could listen to her giggle forever.
After Beckett closes the book, he tells her that it’s his turn to go first. I’m confused about what’s going on, but I’m looped in quickly.
“Every night we say what the best part of our day was,” he explains. “You can do it tonight, too, if you want.”
Lennon insists I get to go first since I’ve never done it. It’s hard being on the spot, but I know what my answer is.
“My favorite part was when you did magic. You have a lot of inner strength.”
Lennon beams proudly, her confidence boosted.
Beckett goes next, saying his favorite part of the day was when Gram and Papa brought us all cheeseburgers, and Lennon and I agree that was, in fact, a very good part of the day.
We wait for Lennon’s answer, and she’s considering it very carefully. She chews on her bottom lip, and I swear I can see the gears turning in her head.
“My favorite part was right now, when we are all here to say goodnight to each other.”
My heart cracks open.
BECKETT
