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I was heating up water for tea when they entered the kitchen. Wren hugged me. “You’re here.”
I caught Harrison’s gaze over her head, both of us knowing I was going to be here a lot more often.
“Put your book bag on the hook and bring me your lunch box,” Harrison reminded Wren.
When Wren complied with a groan, Harrison asked me softly, “Are you freaking out?”
“A little, but then I realized why we are doing this. It’s for that little girl. You know I’d do anything for her.” Wren would be the perfect buffer.
“I’m counting on it,” Harrison said, his voice apologetic.
“You have nothing to apologize for. We’d both do anything for her.” Even if it meant one of us would get hurt.
“Can we watch a movie?” Wren asked.
“Not on a school night,” was Harrison’s automatic reply. “Do you have any homework?”
Wren’s mother had different rules at her house, so there was usually an adjustment when she came to Harrison’s.
“Nope.”
“Let me see your folder. I don’t want to miss anything.”
Harrison was a good dad. A great one, even. My eyes filled with tears, and I quickly blinked them away. I admired him because he was what any child deserved. My dad was never that involved, but at least he’d been present—until he wasn’t.
Harrison went through her folder while I made tea for me and Wren. She liked to pretend she was an adult when I offered it to her. She usually took a few sips before setting it aside. It was a little ritual we’d created over time. Sharing tea together and having girl talk. She had a mother, but she seemed to enjoy our time too.
“I’m going to change and let you have your tea,” Harrison said.
I set Wren’s cup on the table and sat across from her. “This smells like flowers.”
I smiled as I breathed it in. “Try it. I want to know if you like it.”
Blowing on it first, she sipped it tentatively. “It’s okay.”
“How was school today?” I asked, cradling the cup.
Wren grinned. “We had extra recess for our reading logs.”
“Fun. Blacktop or field?” I asked, knowing she preferred blacktop. I loved that I already knew the details of her life.
“Blacktop,” she said with a smile.
“So, it was a good day.”
She grimaced. “I had health.”
It was the worst day of the week in her eyes. An hour-long health class when she preferred P.E. or art. “It’s done for the week, though, right?”
Wren laughed. “That’s right. I have double P.E. tomorrow.”
“Ah. The perfect day,” I said, before sipping the fragrant tea.
“Did you like P.E. when you were in school?”
“It wasn’t my favorite class.” I wasn’t athletic, and then there were those times when kids picked teams, and I was always last.
“You liked art.”
