Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“I don’t want Grammy to go on the plane,” Bella says, a teary note in her voice once more. “Planes are bad and mean, too. Just like bananas.”
And there it is.
The bananas were maybe never about the bananas. The bananas might be about Grammy, who’s been a loving, nurturing presence since Frederica died, is about to walk out the door with a rolling suitcase.
Just like her mama walked out the door with a suitcase and never came back…
And Bella—who’s three, brilliant, and has clearly, on some level, connected two unrelated events into a terrifying case of cause and effect—has channeled the weight of that into her banana pancakes.
“I don’t like planes,” Bella adds, tears beginning to flow. “Or people going away. I want everybody to stay here with us.”
My mom catches my gaze, pain flashing in her eyes. She starts for Bella, but I put a hand on her arm. She’s been taking point with the girls’ tears for the past two months. It’s time I stepped up to the plate.
Past time.
In just a few hours, I’m going to be the only one around to step up.
If I don’t do it, no one will.
“Don’t cry, Bell,” I say, pulling her out of the booster and into my arms. “Grammy’s going to be fine.”
“No, she won’t.” She buries her face in my neck, her body shaking.
“Yes, she will. I promise.” I hold her close, swaying back and forth, the way I did when she was a colicky baby who cried for three solid hours every night. “She’ll get home to Minnesota just fine, and we’ll see her in a few months.”
“We will?” Bella asks.
“We will,” I assure her. “Remember? We’re going to Grammy’s for a summer trip. So, we can have a big party with all your cousins in Minnesota.”
“But summer is way far, far away,” she says.
“Not so far. And time goes by fast this time of year. You’ll be so busy with school and Mardi Gras and Easter and practicing for the dance recital, summer will be here before you know it.”
“Can I wear my tap shoes from the recital to Grammy’s?” Bella asks, perking up. “Can I wear them all the way to Minnesota?”
“For sure,” I say, figuring I’ll worry about whether tap shoes will clear security later.
“And my costume?”
“I don’t see why not,” I say, glancing at the clock over her head. Six-forty. Shit. Where’s the nanny? “Mom, can you peek out front? See if Meredith is sitting in the driveway? Maybe she’s waiting for us to let her know it’s okay to come in.”
“On it.” She sets her now-empty coffee mug on the table and hustles toward the living room.
“Are you ready to meet the new nanny?” I ask Bella. “All done with breakfast? Or are you still hungry?”
“I’m full, Daddy.” She sniffs as she pats my chest with one hand. “Is the new nanny going to be nice?”
“So nice,” I promise, silently praying Tasha wasn’t overselling things when she swore the nanny swap would work out in our favor since Meredith is, and I quote, “the sweetest girl in the whole world. Like a Disney princess come to life, I swear.”
Please, please, let Tasha deliver on that promise…
We could really use a Disney princess style win this morning.
“Good,” Bella says, her forehead furrowing. “And we’ll get the circle bananas next time so the pancakes aren’t yucky.”
“Only the circliest of circle bananas,” I vow. “I’ll triple-check them myself to be sure.”
She drops her head back to my shoulder with a sigh. “Good work, Daddy.”
“Thanks.” I smile as I press a kiss to the top of her curly head.
Crisis averted, I’m feeling cautiously optimistic that the rough patch of the morning is over, when Mom calls from the other room, “Ava? Where are you, Ava? Ava Kate? Answer me, Ava, we’re not playing hide-and-seek right now.”
My heart lurches into my throat, and the hairs on my arms stand on end. “Did you check the bathroom?”
“She’s not there,” Mom calls back, her pitch rising. “She’s not in her bedroom or the living room, either.”
My entire body goes cold. “What?” I hurry into the living room, Bella still in my arms, fighting to keep the panic from my voice as I say, “But she was just here. You said she was watching Bluey.”
“She was. The TV is still on, and her shoes are by the couch.” My mother appears at the top of the stairs, hurrying down from where she must have been checking the girls’ rooms. She’s pale, her composure cracked enough for me to see that she’s as scared as I am, but also trying to hold it together for Bella. “The front door’s unlocked, but she wouldn’t go outside without permission. Or her shoes. Would she?”
“Here, hold Bella, I’ll be right back,” I say, shifting my youngest into her arms.