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Slowly, and very deliberately, Callie widens her hands so she’s no longer supporting Scout at all. Then she takes a step back. And another.
My son is treading water. He looks like a misdirected SCUBA diver doing it here in a pool, but he’s treading water.
Callie stands there with her arms extended just in case. Just like she’s done…before? Which is when it hits me.
“You taught him to swim.”
“I took him to his lesson.” She keeps her eyes trained on him. “Which was crap. So I brought him here, and he learned. Just needed someone to be patient with him. And he doesn’t like getting his face wet, hence the mask.”
“That’s genius.”
“Glad you approve. Now, get in here, Moody Shark, and let him show you what else he can do.”
“Yeah, come in, Daddy!” Scout’s little legs tread water, and he keeps his face pointed at the sky, moving faster than he needs to stay afloat.
I jump in, splashing Callie and Scout with a wave of water. Then I swim over to Scout and scoop him onto my shoulders. We team up against Callie with an inflatable basketball and a hoop on one side of the pool. I move slowly through the water to give Callie a chance to jump up and try to get the ball back, but Scout is determined to win the game. He kicks my shoulders and squeezes my neck, but I make sure he stays securely on my shoulders.
When Scout’s worn out and chomping down watermelon slices in the shade, Callie and I continue the game. Only this time, I’m more interested in keeping her from getting to the hoop, grabbing her around her waist and holding her against me as she flails and tries to swim away.
“Daddy, that’s cheating,” Scout says, gleefully watching our tug-of-war. “But that’s okay, as long as you’re having fun.”
“I’m having fun, Scout. Don’t worry,” Callie says. Her honest assessment catches me off guard, and I loosen my grip to catch her eye, but that’s when she bursts free of me and swims for the basketball hoop, scoring a point before I even realize I’ve lost her.
It’s the first time it hits me hard that losing her for real is going to hurt, probably more for me than for Scout. All this time, I’ve been trying to protect my son from getting too attached. And I should have been protecting myself instead.
“Get the rebound!” Callie shouts, tossing the ball into the air and diving for it. But I’m taller, and my arms are longer, so one swoop toward her gets me the ball back. She tries my tactic, grabbing me around the waist to stop me from moving, but I just keep heading toward the basket, loving the feeling of her arms wrapped around me.
After I slam-dunk the ball, I swivel around, still in her arms, and wrap her in a hug. “Two can play at that game.”
“Tie game!” Scout yells. “Next point wins.”
“You heard the boss. Next point wins,” Callie says softly, searching my face for confirmation.
I shrug. “You can have the point. Feels like I’ve already won.” Kissing the top of her head, I pull her along with me to the steps of the pool, where Scout joins us with the bowl of watermelon.
We spend a good part of the afternoon in the water, our skin pruney and the tops of our shoulders getting sunburned.
We take a few pictures of the three of us together “for the scrapbook,” Callie reminds me. She always has one part of her brain focused on the task she’s here to do—convince a judge that we’re a real family.
She doesn’t have to convince me that we are. Not one bit.
CHAPTER 21
Luke
For the second time in a month, Scout came home last night reporting on a “wedding” at preschool. This time, he wasn’t the groom, but he seemed so excited about being a “ring bearer” that I started to wonder what they’re teaching the kids over there. This morning, I pulled Shannon, his favorite teacher, aside so she could explain the kids’ seeming obsession with getting married at age four.
Hidden from the kids' view, we stand in the small bungalow, looking out at the preschool yard. Scout is in his usual spot, pushing trucks around in the sand, and Lola sits next to him methodically pouring water from a bucket into a hole. They’re not acknowledging each other, but they’re the only two sitting in that corner of the yard.
“Oh, that’s not how they think about it. It’s playacting. Like being a sheriff and arresting a ‘bad guy’ or being a chef and serving everyone at your ‘restaurant’ pancakes made of clay. No one’s actually eating the pancakes, and no one really thinks they’re married.”
Her explanation makes me feel better, but I’m still a little uneasy about the idea that Scout has a “bride.”
“And what’s happening with Scout and his friend there?”
She glances at where one of the other teachers turns on the hose to refill Lola’s water bucket. Scout looks up when she waddles back over with it and pulls his truck out of the way so she can put the bucket down.
“Cute, aren’t they? They’re sweet together. It’s really nice to see their friendship blossoming. Does he play with her after school?”
