“I regret telling you that.”
“I’m sure you do, but I saw your eyes when you told me. You can’t hide.” Jenny scooted past her out of the bathroom.
She’d known telling Jenny about that kiss was going to bite her in the ass. And with her emotions running rampant every time she thought of Jake, she could only imagine what her cousin had seen.
She joined Casey at the scarred table where she sat, circling numbers and placing animal stickers in a dime-store workbook. She liked to do what she called “her work.” That made her attitude toward going to kindergarten even more baffling, but they’d already discussed it several times. Casey could give no reasons she didn’t want to go other than she just didn’t want to. Not incredibly helpful. Hoping to sneak in a few minutes of her own studying, she opened her course book on the Roman Empire.
“Mommy, did you ever know a prince?”
Paige smiled at Casey’s out-of-the-blue question. “Nope.”
“Does everyone get a prince?”
“No, baby. No one gets a prince. Unless you live in a country that still has kings and queens, and then I guess it’s possible.”
Casey’s obsession with royalty just proved that kids came with their own likes and dislikes. She’d never bought Casey Disney stuff, didn’t buy her the movies or sing the songs; she’d never been into it herself. But a commercial here, a walk through Walmart there, and by the time Case was three she was all about the fairy-tale princess.
And the prince.
Her own mom had desperately wanted Prince Charming and Paige had watched her go through more than her share of frogs. My prince is coming, she’d tell Paige with tears in her voice. He never came.
“There’s always a prince,” Casey went on, drawing rows of tall, pointy rectangles sticking into blue clouds. “We don’t have one.”
“We don’t need a prince, baby.”
Was it a mother’s job to quell the disillusionment of glitter and fairy dust, or her duty to foster a belief in beautiful possibilities? Of course she wanted the dream of a happily ever after for Casey, but what could she say when she didn’t believe in it herself?
“But what if you’re a princess? Then can you get a prince? What about turning a frog into a prince? I could do that. I need to draw a frog. When is Jake coming?”
“I don’t know.” And she didn’t miss her daughter’s thought flow from prince to Jake.
“I want to wait outside. I need to feed Leon.”
“Great idea.” All too happy for a change of subject, Paige closed her book and stood. “Grab your leg.”
“I don’t want it.”
“Casey, you’ll need it. I can’t carry you all day.”
“Jake can carry me.”
And he probably would too. Paige had a sudden, vivid image of that, her small daughter in his big arms. She ignored the little hiccup in her heart. “Casey, why don’t you want to wear it? Is it hurting you again?”
“No.”
Paige barely contained her sigh. She hated how much she wanted Casey to get over this. Hated how badly she needed Casey to go to kindergarten and be happy so that she could go to school herself. “Get it anyway. Jake wants to watch you walk in it.”
“Why?”
“So he can make sure it fits okay.”
“Is he wearing his?”
“Of course. Have you ever seen him not wear his?” She started to point out that Jake couldn’t cartwheel and forward roll around work, like she couldn’t do in kindergarten, but she didn’t. She was already afraid some misplaced comment about kindergarten had started this attitude toward her prosthesis.
“Okay. I’ll wear it.”
Paige waited for her to put it on, then followed her outside. “How are you going to get Leon to come out?”
“He’ll come. He lives in his ’partment under there.” She pointed under the trailer.
Paige had never actually seen the turtle, not that it mattered. Casey was happy enough whether he was real or imagined as she picked blades of grass for a bed or a snack, whichever Leon might choose.
The front side of the trailer blocked the afternoon sun and the breeze was warm and dry. She should put her hair up. She pulled a hair band from her wrist and did so, rolling her eyes at herself for the reason she’d left it down. No matter how attracted she was to Jake, no matter how much she liked him, she needed to remember that wasn’t part of her plan. Casey, work, school, better job. No time to get sidetracked.
Minutes passed and Casey sighed. “There’s not enough nature in our yard.”
Nope. And there wasn’t much of a yard either, which got her mind solidly back on track.
Paige moved down to sit beside Casey and picked up a tiny pebble. “Does Leon like chicken nuggets?” She dropped the rock into Casey’s hand, starting her on a new quest.
Jenny joined her on the step and whipped out her cherry-flavored roll-on lip gloss.
“Me too!” Casey said, reaching, always ready for Jenny’s makeup.