“If you want, I can design a built-in pullout chair for you right here.” I tap the cupboard behind her.
“What a guy. Always thinking.” She looks at me, and her expression turns serious. “Hey. Are you okay?” she asks.
I focus on my coffee.
“Sure, why?”
“You tossed and turned all night.” She scoots in closer to me and uses her sexy voice. “Maybe if you’d taken me up on my offer, you would have slept better.”
I force a chuckle. It sounds false. She steps away and grabs the dish towel from the oven handle. She wipes a drop of coffee off the counter and glances over at me.
“What’s going on, Sam?”
“Work’s a little crazy, the usual. Don’t worry about it.”
“It doesn’t feel like the usual,” she says. I turn and look at her, expecting her scrutiny, but her attention is on the kids.
“Hurry up, guys,” she tells them. She glances at me, her expression unreadable, then she turns back to them. “We can’t be late for school today.”
“I’ve, like, heard that a million times already,” Eden snipes. Honestly, I don’t understand kids’ obsession with the word like.
And dude. Dude, it seems, is a cross-generational word. We used it when I was growing up, and kids use it today. Thankfully, Eden hasn’t embraced it, but I know, sooner or later, it will become a major part of Jonah’s vocabulary.
“I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” Rachel says. “Will you still be here?”
I glance at my watch, even though I already know the answer. “I have to leave in ten.”
She looks disappointed. “You sure you’re okay? Do you want to meet for lunch to talk?”
I shake my head. “I’ve got a lunch meeting.” Even as the words come out of my mouth, my stomach turns over. I kiss the top of her head. “I’m okay, honey. Really.” Not really.
“Mom. Hair.”
She gives me a last speculative glance, then turns to Eden. “You could say please.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t want to be late,” Eden reminds her.
Rachel gives Eden a wide-eyed look. “And it’s your hair not mine, missy. I don’t expect you to grovel, but please would be appropriate.”
“What’s grovel?” Eden and Jonah say at the same time, then they both laugh.
“It’s what your dad does when he wants a special kiss.”
“Funny,” I say. “It’s what your mom does when she wants a new piece of furniture.”
Rachel throws the dish towel at me, and we both laugh.
“I still don’t know what that means,” Jonah says.
“It’s when you get down on your knees and beg because you want something so much,” Rachel tells him.
“I’m not doing that,” Eden says.
“I’m not asking you to,” Rachel says. She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m waiting.”
Eden sighs. “Will you please do my hair, Mom? Pretty please with a cherry on top.”
“And whipped cream!” Jonah chimes in. “And almonds and chocolate sauce.”
“Yes, my lady, your wish is my command.”
This is the Davenport dynamic at work, jokes and questions and laughter. I love the interplay of my family. I know I would miss it if I didn’t have it.
Rachel follows Eden out of the kitchen. I finish my coffee and rinse the mug in the sink as Jonah gets up from the table. I watch him take the crust from his toast and hold it out to Shadow. Very gently, Shadow takes the crust, then trots to his bed, where he proceeds to devour it. Jonah brings his plate over, sets it on the counter, and looks up at me.
“I’ll find some eggs for you, too, Daddy. And for Mommy and Auntie Ruth. I’ll find so many, we can all have them.”
His brown eyes are twinkling, and his wide grin makes his dimples look huge. My heart gives a tug. I reach down and ruffle his hair.
“Thank you, little man.”
“I’m not a man,” he says, then giggles.
I pretend to be very serious. “Not yet, you’re right. But you will be very soon.”
He throws his arms around my waist and squeezes my middle. “Love you, Daddy.”
I bend over and hug him back. “Love you, too, Buster Brown.”
He pulls away. “I gotta go, Daddy.”
“I know. You can’t be late.”
He races toward the living room, then stops and turns to me. “What’s your favorite kind of egg?”
I think for a moment. “Peanut butter.”
He smiles. “That’s good. You can have ’em all.”
“How very generous of you.”
“What’s generous?” he asks.
“It’s when you give a lot of what you have to someone else.”
He contemplates this then gives me a doubtful look. For a five-year-old, he’s got the doubtful look down. “I don’t think it’s me being ge-ner-ous, Daddy. ’Cause I don’t like the peanut butter eggs.”
I smile at him. “But you like the cookies-and-cream eggs.” He nods vehemently. “And you’re going to share them with your sister.” He nods again. “I would say, my guy, that you are extremely generous. The proof’s in the pudding.”
He nods back at me. “Okay. Good. I’m glad we got that settled.” He races out of the room before he can hear my laughter.
When they’re gone, the house is quiet. I take my mug from the dish drain and pour half a cup, leaving the rest of the pot for Rachel. I carry the mug to the table and sit down. For a moment, I’m lost in my thoughts. I love my family. I do. So much it hurts sometimes. But. But. No, there is no but. Except, there are temptations. And possibilities.
Shadow watches me from his bed. As if sensing my conflicting thoughts, he rises and pads over to me and lays his head on my thigh. His soulful eyes dart up at me, then dart away, then dart back to me. Ordinarily, I would shove him off my work slacks, worrying that his hair will leave a trail. But his warmth and sensitivity soothes me, so I stroke the fur of his head and neck instead.
“Good boy, Shadow. You’re a good dog.” He licks my hand in agreement.
I check my watch and realize that Rachel will be home in a few minutes. I don’t want to be here when she gets back. She’ll pepper me with more questions, questions for which I have no answers. Not yet, anyway. I nudge Shadow aside, and he seems to take it in stride, trotting off to the back door, where he moves through his doggy hatch to the backyard.
For the second time, I rinse my mug and set it in the dish drain, then head for the living room. I grab my tweed jacket from where I hung it on the banister, pick my briefcase up off the floor of the foyer, and leave the house.