Page 79 of Already Callin’ You Mine

“Otis, Barb,” a sweet southern voice coos. “Oh! And Buzz Lightyear!”

“Hi!” Otis waves at Miss Belle, who is dressed as a witch, his hand moving furiously.

“You look very handsome.” Taking his hand, she leads him over to a set of three massive cauldrons, big enough for him to fit in, the two on the end smoking with dry ice. Pointing into the middle one, Miss Belle smiles. “Would you like one?”

Oh, great, more candy. Exactly what this child doesn’t need right now. Seriously, by the looks of that bag Jace is holding, they stopped at every truck twice on the way back from the hayride. I’m going to have to do some serious damage control and sneak this out of the house before Otis realizes what a trove he’s sitting on.

“Mama, look!” Otis reaches into the cauldron and pulls out an orange plastic egg. Just like you would see at Easter, only not pastel.

I chuckle, my body relaxing as I realize it’s not candy. A strong hand lands on the small of my back, making me ease even more, leaning into its owner.

“It’s some kind of rubber worm or spider, or maybe one of those cheapo plastic rings. I don’t know if she got those vampire teeth thingys this year or not. There are glow stick bracelets somewhere too, but she usually saves those for older kids.”

I turn, just enough to rest my head on his shoulder. “I’m just glad it’s not more sugar.”

“Oh, no. Miss Belle stopped handing out candy years ago. She used to complain that with seven kids at home, we had Halloween candy until Valentine’s.”

Otis runs back to us, now with a small can of Play-Doh in hand, but also sporting neon green plastic in his mouth that looks more like a mouthguard than teeth. I laugh, pulling him up to get a better look.

“Are you Count Buzz now?” I tease.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he imitates the Sesame Street character, making everyone laugh. He’s still on a sugar high, his pupils wide with excitement, but right now we’re okay. Maybe we will avoid a meltdown and simply crash hard at home.

That would be nice.

More importantly, the thing I can’t help but notice is that Otis ran right past my father toward Jace and me. That’s never happened. If Paps is close by, the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Until now. He might be dethroned.

“Otis, care to join me in the haunted house?” Dad asks. Otis whips around to look at him, a new wave of excitement hitting him as he sees Paps. Okay, then, maybe he simply didn’t see him.

“Is that a good idea? Is it kid safe?”

“Miss Belle wouldn’t make anything that wasn’t,” he assures me.

“Hold on.” Jace lets go of me, scurrying off toward Margeaux’s table. He returns a second later, holding up a little stuffed ghost. One who looks a lot like Casper. He hands it to Otis. “Take this and hold on to him tight. As long as you’re holding him, no one inside will jump out and get you.”

Otis holds tight, pressing the stuffie to his chest. I melt, loving everything about this moment. Well, other than the idea of my three-year-old going into a haunted house.

“Maybe I should go with.”

“Nonsense. This is an Otis-only adventure. If your name isn’t Otis, you’re not allowed,” Dad says.

“What about Nana?” Mom asks, playing along. “Are people with the name Nana allowed to come?”

“Of course,” Dad adds. “Just no moms.”

I purse my lips, wanting to point out that technically, Nana also goes by Mom, depending on who is doing the talking, but I stop myself. I need to relax. Let him have this moment with Paps. This is why we moved here, so that he could have all these experiences, growing up in a town where everyone is family and Paps is only a shout away.

“No moms,” Otis repeats.

Message received, buddy.

“I’ll stay out here and keep Mama company,” Jace offers. “We’ll see you when you’re done.”

Otis nods, accepting that Jace will keep me safe while he’s gone, urging Paps to move faster. This is probably the most exciting night of his short life, and that makes me happier than I can say. Because this is the childhood he deserves.

I also hope that he sleeps for the next three days.

“How you doin’, Mama?” Jace whispers into my ear, tugging me into him.