“Hmm.” Carolyn mumbles and blatantly tries to look at my left hand. I smile at her, but she doesn’t smile back. She just turns and calls for Christian and Bug.
I watch Carter’s son expertly navigate his footing on the clearly salted sidewalk. He doesn’t notice me. He’s too busy talking to his ‘friend.’ The moment they reach the vehicle, he opens the door for his companion.
Like father, like son.
Before the girl gets in, she stares at Amelia, then she sees me. “Uh… hi.”
“Hop in,” Carter says.
Bug climbs in, angles herself around the car seat and sits on the opposite side. Then Christian gets in, puts his crutches on the floor, secures his seatbelt, and turns to Amelia without hesitation. “Hi, I’m Christian.”
I like this kid already.
When Amelia doesn’t answer, probably because she’s not used to being addressed directly, I say, “It’s so nice to meet you, Christian. That’s Amelia and I’m Kenna.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” He gestures to Bug. “This is my friend, Darla. But everyone calls her Bug.”
I smile. “Hi, Bug.”
“You have blue hair,” Amelia says then turns to me. “I want blue hair, Mommy. No… pink. I want pink hair. Can I? Please?”
My eyes shift rapidly from my daughter to Bug. I’m at a total loss. I can’t tell her that her request is ridiculous without insulting Bug.
I’m saved by the cute, blue-haired girl herself. “Do you want to know the secret to being able to have blue or pink hair?”
“Yes!”
“Well, you have to be really good. I mean, really, really good. Like do all your chores and be nice to people and don’t whine and complain all the time. Then when you’re older, you use all that goodness to bargain for the one thing you really want… pink hair.”
“What’s bargain?” Amelia asks, hanging on her new idol’s every word.
Bug laughs. “Sorry, squirt. It just means that because you’ve been so good, you’re allowed to ask for something you might not have been able to get if you’d been not so good.”
I try, but fail, to keep the huge grin off my face. I already like both of the kids bookending my daughter.
Carter elbows me as if saying, ‘See, I told you.’
Amelia blurts, “Why do you wear funny glasses?”
I’m mortified. “Amelia,” I chide. “That’s not polite.”
Christian says, “That’s okay.” He takes his glasses off and perches them on Amelia’s nose.
She waves a hand in front of her face. “I can’t see.”
Christian spends a few moments explaining his CP to Amelia. Then he and Bug entertain all of Amelia’s questions on the ride to Carter’s home.
It’s been a while since Amelia has been with other kids. We’d kind of been holed up in the apartment, any friends we’d had long felled by the wayside. And it was just too cold to visit the playground or the park.
I’m thoroughly enjoying their interaction. So thoroughly, I actually start envisioning what it would be like being around them for the next week.
I watch Carter as he weaves us through school traffic and back onto the main road. He’s nice enough. More than nice, actually. But then, so was Ted Bundy, the psychopath wholured in his victims by presenting himself as a nice, handsome, vulnerable guy.
I turn and study Christian. No way was this kid raised by anyone with bad intentions.
But… can I even accept an invitation from this guy? Someone who had to save up for an entire year just to go on one vacation? It doesn’t seem fair to take a handout from a man who might very well be living paycheck to paycheck.
“Here we are,” Carter announces, pulling into the driveway of a gray-paneled home with black shutters, a two-car garage, and a large mailbox that is a tiny replica of the house.
