“Yeah.”
It was like this little girl could read my mind. I had been thinking about Amanda all day and how her leg was doing. The dinner we had shared together had been pleasant. She got along well with Lanie despite the fact that I didn’t enjoy having company over, and she seemed to have embedded herself in my thoughts. Even though she was a stranger and I told myself I needed to be wary of her, my mind wouldn’t let her go.
“Amana come over soon?” Lanie asked.
“How about I think about it?” I asked.
“Please?”
“I said I’ll think about it, Lanie.”
The little girl sat down in her bath and began to pout. I was concerned that Lanie was already getting too attached. The last thing this little girl needed was to get attached to another woman before she left. She had already lost her mother. I was coaching her through those nights where she woke up crying and wanting her. She wasn’t at an age where she understood death, but she saw enough children going into town to notice they were with women. Women they called “mother” while she only called me “uncle.”
“All right,” I said as I unplugged the tub. “Bedtime.”
“Movie?” Lanie asked.
“No, bedtime.”
“Snack?”
“No, sweetheart. Bedtime,” I said.
“Snuggle?”
I chuckled as I wrapped a towel around her and picked her up from the tub.
“Maybe a little snuggling.”
I dried her off and dressed her in pajamas before I tucked her into bed. I climbed beside her and pulled out her favorite book while she cuddled into me. Lanie loved it when I read to her, especially this new book her nanny had brought over the other day. It was a book of Dr. Seuss stories, and Lanie giggled at the silliness of the rhymes.
I read through two entire stories before the little girl drifted off to sleep and I kissed her forehead. I turned on her nightlight that cast stars onto the ceiling, then I turned everything else off and closed her door. It had been a long day of business calls, and figuring out what the hell was wrong with my truck.
Needless to say, I was ready to fucking crash.
But then, a knock came at the door. It was faint, like the person on the other side knew someone was sleeping. The only person I figured it could be was Tanya, but she had a key so why would she knock?
I opened the door and despite myself, my heart hammered in my chest as I saw Amanda standing on my porch, holding a big pot in her hands.
“Hello,” she said, smiling. “I brought soup.”
She set the pot in my hands as my brow furrowed deeply.
“To return the favor of you cooking chili?” she said.
“Amana!”
I spun around and saw Lanie sprinting down the hallway. She launched herself into the air and right at Amanda, who was poised to catch her in her arms. Why the hell was Lanie up? I just left her damn room, and she was snoring, for crying out loud.
“Hello there, pretty girl,” Amanda said. “I thought you were sleeping.”
“Nope. I was pretening,” Lanie said.
“Pretending, huh?” Amanda asked as she winked at me. “Well, looks like you got your uncle good.”
“I did,” Lanie said, smiling. “What’s that?”
Lanie pointed to the pot in my hands as it began to burn my palms.
“Soup,” Amanda said. “To repay your uncle for dinner.”
“You stay? I have some?” Lanie asked.
“One question at a time,” I said as I set the pot on the stove.
“Amana you stay?” Lanie asked again.
Her eyes were pleading with Amanda to stay as her hesitant stare turned toward me.
“I don’t know. Can I?” Amanda asked.
“I was going to make a grilled cheese for dinner, but this is better. Lanie, you can have some, but afterward, you need to go to bed. You didn’t have your nap today, so you have to go to bed early.”
“But I’m not tired,” Lanie said.
“Says the girl who was snoring a moment ago. Come in, Amanda.”
She stepped over the threshold of my house with Lanie in her arms. I started spooning the warm soup into bowls for everyone while Amanda settled with Lanie at the table. I heard them giggling and whispering to each other, and the smile on Lanie’s face was larger than I’d ever seen it. Her eyes were sparkling as she played with Amanda’s hair, and she was giggling when Amanda tickled her.
Yes. Lanie was getting way too attached to this woman.
“Oh! I brought you something,” Amanda said.
“What?” Lanie asked. “What is it?”
“It’s something I drew the other day. I figured you might like it.”
I set the bowls of soup on the table as I watched Amanda pull a folded piece of paper from her back pocket. She handed it to Lanie, unfolding it carefully so my niece could see. I grabbed all of us drinks as Lanie gasped at the picture, then suddenly the small girl was at my feet.
“Look, Uncle Bwian! Look! It’s a bird!”
I set the drinks on the table and took the picture from Lanie’s hands.
It wasn’t only a bird, however, it was an entire scene. The bird was perched on a windowsill outside, and it was backdropped with the forest. The detail was incredible, and the shading of the pencil was expertly done.
“Did you draw this?” I asked.
Amanda’s eyes connected with mine, and I felt my voice catch in my throat.
“It was a bird that landed on the windowsill yesterday. Nothing spectacular. I needed a distraction after cleaning all day,” she said.
“This is nothing spectacular?” I asked.
“Just a little drawing. I figured Lanie might like it.”
“Thank you, Amana!” Lanie said.
It was a beautiful picture, and one that I’d hear about for days from Lanie. She ripped it from my hands and ran it over to the fridge where she picked up a magnet and put it right in the middle. Lanie stood back to survey her work before she scrambled back to the table. Then she climbed onto Amanda’s lap and hugged her neck tightly.
“Thank you,” Lanie said.
“You’re very welcome,” Amanda said.
“How long have you been drawing?” I asked.
I sat down at the table across from them before I slid spoons in their direction.
“A long time,” Amanda said. “I actually went to school for it.”
“So you have an art degree?”
“I do, yes,” she said.
“Is that what you do for a living?” I asked.
“It’s what I’m trying to do for a living. The ‘trying’ part is key in that statement.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Well, I earned my degree in New York City, and right now the hot thing is modernism and cubism and all sorts of ‘isms’ that are boring to me. Scenes and emotions and animals and memories aren’t really that hot in the art world right now, and they’re kind of my specialty,” she said.
“Maybe you just need to find the right audience,” I said.
“I’m hoping to. I was showcased in a few art galleries during my senior year, and that led to some sales. The bulk of my market, though, is online.”
“Online?” I asked.
“Yeah. I paint, I upload a high-resolution digital picture of it, then people pay a price to print it out, have it framed, and shipped to them.”
“Sounds very impersonal.”
“It is, but it keeps my pockets lined until I can do what I really want,” she said.
“Which is?”
“Open my own gallery, hold my own showcases, and sell my own art.”
Her face lit up as she talked about it. She walked me through her dream gallery and how she would lay it out. The color scheme and the business model and even how much it would take to renovate a building and make it happen. I was impressed with her passion and how well thought-out her plan was.
I was interested in listening to her as she talked about it, and it had been a long time since I’d felt that way about anything.
Or anyone.
“Okay, Lanie. Time for bed,” I said after a while.
“But I’m not tired.”
“Yes, you are. You’re falling asleep next to Amanda,” I said.
“Can she tuck me in?” Lanie asked.
“I think you should let your uncle tuck you in,” Amanda said. “And maybe I could do it some other time.”