She was tiny. Possibly smaller than Jonah, and he was two years younger. She had curls just like him—like me. Brown and wild, they floated around her head like a distorted halo.
And she was wearing glasses. Pink plastic glasses over bright little eyes.
“Mama!”
At the sound of her voice, I stumbled back, but managed to stay upright. It helped that Mazzy put her hand on my arm. Not that she could hold me up, but the reminder that she was there steadied me.
“Katty!” The little steam engine barreled into Mazzy’s knees, and she caught her with a laugh. “Did you go down the slide?”
Katty looked up at her mom with bright eyes and a big smile that revealed a row of perfect, miniature white teeth. “I went down the slide seven times.”
“Seven? Not eight?”
“No.” Katty shook her head with adamance. “Only seven.”
Well, my kid was clearly a genius. Not even in kindergarten, and she already knew her numbers. I wished my brothers were here, so they could see how incredible she was. They wouldn’t believe me when I told them. I’d have to—
“Ben.” Mazzy patted my arm. “Do you want to meet Kateryna?”
“Yes.” I cleared the clog from my throat. “I’d love to meet her.”
Wide eyes peered up at me from around Mazzy’s legs. I waved, and her mouth twitched. She was so small, it felt like she was a million miles away, so I crouched down in front of her and held out my hand.
“Hey, I’m Ben.”
Her soft brow furrowed with puzzlement at my offered hand for a moment, then she slapped it and proclaimed, “High five.”
Yep, she was a genius.
“High five,” I agreed.
She twisted the toe of her sparkly sneaker on the ground. “My name is Kateryna.”
Her voice was like wind chimes on a hot, still day. The sound of them a burst of relief. Clear, but soft. I leaned closer to hear more of it. So I didn’t miss even a single syllable.
“Yeah? That’s a really pretty name. Do people maybe call you Katty?”
She nodded hard. “Uh-huh. Do people call you Benny?”
“Some people do, like my brothers. I have a bigger name too, like you do. It’s Bennett.”
“I like Benny.” She reached up and twisted a ringlet around her finger. “I don’t have brothers.”
“Well, I have three. It’s a lot of boys.”
She raised her shoulder in a careless shrug. “Boys are good—sometimes.” Then her sweet face transformed into a mask of righteous indignation. “Declan takes my markers, though.”
“What? Why would Declan do that?” When I found this kid…
Mazzy laughed and put her hand on top of Katty’s head. “Declan’s in Katty’s preschool class. I get a report about things Declan does almost every day.”
My brow dropped. “Well, someone needs to do something about this kid. He’s just allowed to run wild and steal markers? Is there no oversight? He sounds like a criminal and—”
Katty cackled, her head falling back with glee. “You’re so funny. I like your red face.”
I touched my cheek. “I’m red?” Then I looked up at Mazzy. “Am I red?”
Her mouth twitched, like she was trying to hold back her own laughter, and she held up her thumb and forefinger, an inch apart. “Just a little, yes.”
