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Epilogue
Jensen
5 years later
“Thank you for picking me up, Daddy.”
Clara looked up at me from her spot in the passenger seat, eyes wide and filled with adulation. I grinned and ruffled her blonde hair. “You’re welcome, princess.”
She giggled. “I’m not a princess. I’m going to be a pirate when I grow up.”
“Ah, it’s pirates this week, is it?” I said, raising a brow as I pulled out of the parking lot. “
“Pirates are cool, daddy! Did you know they used to go on adventures all over the world? They buried treasure everywhere.”
“That’s true. Maybe we can go and dig at the beach when we get home. Look for our own treasure,” I said. “I used to do that all the time when I was your age.”
Clara tilted her head to consider the offer. “Hm. No. I’m going to play with my bears today,” she said. “We can dig for treasure tomorrow instead, because it’s Saturday then, so we’ll have the whole day.”
I suppressed a chuckle at her response. She was just like her mother in every way—looks, brains, attitude. “All right. Tomorrow it is,” I said. “But we have to be very quiet when we get home.”
She batted her eyelashes. “Why?”
“Mommy has that big assignment due, remember? So she needs some space and quiet time until dinner,” I said. “That means you’ll have to ask your teddies to stay quiet. Think you can do that?”
“Uh-huh.” Clara suddenly sat up straight. “Wait, Daddy. Didn’t Mommy say we need milk?”
“She sure did. Thanks for reminding me,” I said. “We’ll swing by the store on our way home.”
Clara leaned back in her seat with a satisfied smile and a glimmer in her eyes. She was up to something, but I had no idea what it could be.
When we finally arrived home after braving the afternoon grocery store rush, I let her out and opened the front gate, one hand resting protectively on her shoulder as she traipsed up the path. “What’s the time, Daddy?” she asked, looking up at me.
I glanced at my watch. “Almost three.”
She came to an abrupt stop on the path. “What’s the proper time?”
“Uh… 2:58. Is that what you mean?”
“Yes.” She folded her arms and stamped her little foot. “I’m not ready to go in yet.”
“Clara, we don’t stamp our feet to get our own way,” I said, tilting my head. “You know that.”
She nodded. “I know, Daddy. But there’s something wrong with my shoe.”
“Oh.” I crouched down to her level and cast my eyes over her purple shoes. “What’s the problem?”
“I think there’s gum stuck on it,” she said, pointing to her left foot.
“Ah, okay. Let me have a look.” I held her left leg as she slowly lifted her foot off the ground to display the bottom of her shoe. “All clear. No gum.”
“I meant my other shoe.”
With a light chuckle, I repeated the process on her right side. “No gum here either,” I finally declared. “You’re safe to go inside.”
“What’s the time now?”
“3:00 on the dot,” I said, looking at my watch again.
