Chapter 10
On the first Saturday of summer, I woke to someone knocking on my door.
“Come in,” I said.
Dad stepped inside holding a plate.
He had made pancakes. One leaned over the edge, and another was almost square.
“I'll keep practicing,” he said.
I sat up and took the plate.
“You've improved.”
“That's generous.”
He sat in the desk chair while I ate. He wanted to talk about our plans for the day. Caleb and Ava were spending the afternoon with Vanessa. Ruth was coming by later to help us put a small shelf beside the porch for the gardening things.
After that, Dad had promised to take me to the art store.
“Are you sure you don't need to work?” I asked.
“I finished yesterday.”
“You used to say that and then get a call.”
“If a call comes, it can wait until Monday.”
He said it simply. He had been keeping that promise for months.
The arrangements for Caleb and Ava were settled now. Dad was still part of their lives, and Vanessa had a home where they spent time with her. They knew the schedule ahead of time. They called either house when they needed to.
I had seen Vanessa only at school events. She kept her distance. I didn't dread those days anymore because I knew I could walk away and Dad would come with me if I asked.
After breakfast, Caleb carried a bag to the car while Ava ran back inside for her drawing pad. Before she left, she stopped beside me on the porch.
“Will you water my flowers?”
“All of them?”
“Especially Water Boss.”
“I thought that was you.”
“I'm trusting you with my job.”
I promised I would.
Caleb came over with his bag hanging from one shoulder.
“There's a new game at Mom's,” he told me. “I'll bring it back next week.”
“Don't lose the pieces.”
“I never lose pieces.”
Ava laughed so hard he had to admit he'd lost two from the last game.
Dad drove them to Tasha's meeting spot. I watched the car turn the corner, then went to fill the watering can.
Our garden was small. Some of the flowers had grown tall, and others were still catching up. I liked looking at what we had made with our hands.
Ruth arrived carrying a box of brackets for the shelf. Dad returned a few minutes later, and the three of us put it together. I measured where it should go. Ruth held the board while Dad fixed it in place.
When it was done, Dad set the gardening tools on it.
“No bucket?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“We can use one if it's useful.”
I went to the garage and got the old bucket. I washed the dirt from its sides with cool water, then put the small tools inside.
It was a bucket. I could decide what to do with it now.
At the art store, Dad let me take my time choosing paper and pencils. He asked about a summer class advertised near the register. I'd seen the sign but hadn't brought it up.
“I'd like to go,” I said.
“Then let's find out when it starts.”
We signed up for the class. On the drive home, I told him I wanted to draw portraits as well as flowers. He offered to sit for one, though I warned him he'd have to stay still.
“I can manage that,” he said.
“You couldn't sit still through my school concert.”
“I was trying to see over the people in front.”
“You stood up twice.”
“I wanted a better view of you.”
I smiled and looked out the window.
Ruth stayed for dinner. Dad cooked. I cut vegetables because I wanted to help, and when I was finished, I sat down while he cleared the counter. No one told me to get up again.
After Ruth left, Dad and I carried our drinks onto the porch. The new shelf stood beside the flowers. The paper labels Ava had made moved in the breeze.
Dad leaned back in his chair.
“You've seemed happy today.”
“I am.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“I know there may still be days when you remember how things were.”
“There are,” I said.
“You can tell me on those days.”
“I know.”
I wanted him to understand that believing him had taken time. He had given me that time. Each ordinary day he'd come home, asked how I was, and listened to the answer.
“I used to hear your car and try to remember what I hadn't cleaned,” I told him.
Dad turned toward me. His eyes filled, but he stayed quiet.
“Now I hear it and come downstairs.”
He reached for my hand. The skin on my fingers had healed. I let him hold it.
“I love you, Nia.”
“I love you too.”
Through the kitchen window, I could see the dishes we'd left from dinner. Dad saw them and laughed.
“We should take care of those.”
“Tomorrow,” I said.
He considered it.
“Tomorrow.”
We stayed on the porch until the sky grew dark. Then Dad opened the door and waited while I went in first.
May you like
My drawing paper was on the dining table. I picked up a pencil and began with the flowers outside the window.
Dad sat across from me, keeping his promise to stay still.
