Along with horrible smells, but I’m willing to overlook that.
We return to the main floor, and I replace the gate, ensuring Ruth’s rambunctious daughter won’t attempt to scale the stairs. Once it’s in place, we head to the great room. Going straight to the corner I designated as hers, I plop down on the carpet, pulling out the barnyard she seemed to enjoy when she was here yesterday.
Birdie starts wiggling in her momma’s arms, turning to a limp noodle when she doesn’t immediately put her down.
“Are you serious?” Ruth grunts a little as she attempts to not drop her daughter, quickly setting her feet on the floor. “One day I’m going to lose my grip, and you’re going to fall on your face.”
She’s probably right. I was a super energetic kid—I’m also a super energetic adult—and when I want to do something, there’s not much that stops me. If I fall on my face, I fall on my face.
Birdie runs straight for me, sliding to a stop like she’s at home plate when she reaches my spot on the floor. We spend the next hour playing together, pretending there’s a farm, sending bubbles floating through the air, and putting together puzzles.
We’ve just finished the last puzzle when Birdie turns to me, doing something weird with her hands. At first, I think she’s just scratching her stomach, but her eyes are on mine as she runs her hand up and down the center of her torso, fingers and thumb curled in toward her palm a little.
Like she’s trying to tell me something.
“What’s wrong?” I look her over. “Does your tummy hurt?”
Ruth’s eyes come to us from where she’s been sitting on the couch scrolling through her phone in peace. She barely sees the motion Birdie’s making, but easily identifies it. “She’s hungry.”
Mothers must have a sixth sense, because that would not have been one of my guesses. “How can you tell?”
“Because that’s the sign for hungry.” Ruth stands, doing the same general movement Birdie did, just a little more purposefully.
I turn back to Birdie, who is now staring at me expectantly. “Hungry?”
A smile splits her face, displaying her tiny teeth. “Snack.”
I stand, grunting a little after being in the same position on the floor so long. “Then let’s get you a snack.”
Going into the kitchen, I open the fridge and start pulling out the items I picked up at the grocery yesterday after Ruth and Birdie left. I’m not going to make the decision of what’s best for her to eat, so I line them down the counter for her momma to pick.
Ruth stands silently, watching as I place yogurt pouches, blended fruit packets, grapes, strawberries, and a box of Cheerios onto the marble surface.
“I also have cheese and lunchmeat if you think she’d rather have something like that.” I’m especially glad I stocked my fridgenow that the girls will be staying with me for the foreseeable future.
Ruth’s eyes move over the collection before lifting to my face. “Why did you get all this?”
“Because I knew you were going to be here today, and probably pretty regularly for the next few weeks, and I wanted to be sure Birdie had plenty to eat.” I feel like that’s an obvious answer, but I give it to her anyway. “Unfortunately, you didn’t pack any snacks for yourself when we went to the park, so I’m not sure how excited you’re going to be over the options I got for you. They were more of a stab in the dark.”
Ruth’s brows lift, her eyes going wide. “You got snacks for me too?”
“Of course I did.” Ruth is doing me a huge solid. And since convincing my family is half the purpose of this, I knew she would likely be spending a good chunk of time here. “You can eat anything in the kitchen, and if there’s something else you’d like to have, just let me know. I’ll make sure I get it the next time I get groceries.”
It’s a pretty basic thing I did. Nothing earth shattering. But Ruth is still looking at me in total disbelief. Like me providing her and her daughter with snack foods is nothing she would have ever expected.
Or maybe even hoped for.
It makes me feel good in a way I can’t quite explain. Like I gave her something she’s never gotten before.
Clearing my throat, I pull my eyes from hers, because I don’t quite know what to do with the odd warmth in my chest. “Tomorrow we can grab Birdie's toddler bed on our way back from my work.” I realize I’m making a lot of assumptions and amend, “If you still want to go in with me.”
Ruth selects the box of yogurt pouches and opens it, twisting the cap off one before passing it to her daughter. “I’m a littlenervous to stay here alone, especially if your mom gets home tomorrow.”
I don’t like Ruth being nervous about being around my mother, but I’m weirdly happy she and Birdie will be going with me into the office.
But only because I like to make sure they’re safe. Especially after what I witnessed this morning. I would worry about them being here alone. Not because of my mother, she’s going to love Ruth and Birdie regardless of whether or not she knows we’re full of shit.
But if someone else, someone associated with whoever left her a voice message less than hour ago, discovers where she is, I’m going to have to ask Tobias about the specifics of his plan to feed Matt to the mountain lions.
