I walk her to the lake’s edge, and we search for rocks, her picking them up and asking if they’re big enough, me searching for the perfect ones. When we stop for a second, I hand her smaller rocks and show her how you can make them skip over the water.
“Whoa!” She takes one from my palm, and I squat behind her, positioning the rock between her fingers. Then I put my hand over hers and try to help her. But it doesn’t skip.
“Let’s do it again.”
We try a few more times. Then she finally gets one that skips three times before sinking to the bottom of the lake.
She throws herself at my legs. “I did it!”
Her small arms tighten around my legs, and I glance back at Penelope, who strips her gaze away from us the minute our eyes meet.
“Way to go!” I pat Hazel’s back, wishing she was comfortable enough for me to pick her up and swing her around. But we’re not there yet, and I’d hate to ruin the progress we’ve already made because I’m too eager.
“I’m gonna go tell Mommy!” She runs off, and I watch her fall to her knees, her hands flailing, telling Penelope all about skipping rocks.
As I walk over, Penelope says, “Wow, hula hooper extraordinaire and also premier rock skipper on the résumé? What can’t Decker Davis do?”
“Nothing.” Hazel smiles big and picks up her hula hoop. “Let’s go.” She tugs me by the hand.
“Hold on, Haze, let’s eat lunch. Then you and Decker can do your hula hoop.”
Hazel abandons the hula hoop and gets on her knees, opening the cooler. She takes out different containers, one at a time, telling me what’s inside. “Turkey sandwiches… brie.” She cringes. “Mommy said some people like it. It smells funny.”
I laugh, but she keeps going.
“Pasta salad made with small bowties… my favorite.” She preens. “Strawberries, blueberries, a cheese and meat tray, some more sandwiches, and the best thing is these.” She holds a clear container, showing me the sweet treats inside. “Peanut butter goodies.” She falls back. Either Monroe is having an effect on her, or this is how she is when she feels comfortable.
I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t give me a bit of an ego boost.
Penelope’s hand smooths down Hazel’s hair. I’ve noticed she does that a lot. “Okay, thanks, our little waitress.” She takes the peanut butter goodies from her. “These are for later.”
“You went to too much trouble. We could’ve gone to eat after.” I shift to get comfortable.
Penelope shakes her head. “We made a deal. You help Hazel, and I cook.”
“I didn’t want you to.”
“But I want to.”
Our eyes meet and hold as if we’re both remembering another time. She’s always been a good cook, and I made no secret about enjoying her cooking. Now that we’re older, I wouldn’t mind cooking with her, but we don’t have that kind of relationship.
After we eat, the lesson goes well. I’m starting to think Hazel is going to pull this off. She’s got the basic rotation down, and we’ve been working on the neck roll she wants to do at the end, which is ambitious but not impossible. She’s so focused and determined, she’s easy to coach.
She also has Penelope’s stubbornness, which helps. She never wants to quit.
Now Hazel is on the playground across the open grass, working through the obstacle course with more seriousness than the kids surrounding her. I watch her calculate the monkey bars from the ground before she commits to the first rung.
“She’s really great,” I say.
Penelope looks up from the container of strawberries. “She is. Thanks.”
She pops a strawberry into her mouth, and I have to force myself not to lean over and place my lips on hers. I want to kiss her and taste the sweetness of the berries on her tongue.
“She’s going to be good at this,” I say.
“The hula hoop?”
“All of it. She approaches things the way any good athlete does. She watches first. Figures out the problem before she tries to solve it.”
