Page 24 of Here With Me

“Perfect, Lottie. Keep going.” David patted the girl on the shoulder.

The child stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth as she continued to roll the paint on the wall, filling in the gaps, maintaining the W formation he showed her.

Mrs. Allen let go of Sadie’s arm and pressed her hands to her heart. The paint counter had been pushed further into the aisle to make room for David and Lottie to paint. Sadie stepped around them and pulled out the paint sample ring flipped to the yellows.

“It’s so good to see a father spending time with his daughter.” Mrs. Allen’s voice cracked, and she wiped her cheeks.

Oh no. Even though it had been almost ten months since Jeremy died, Sadie never knew how Lottie would respond to mentions of her father.

Sadie stepped closer to Lottie, trying to gauge her reaction.

The paint roller stopped moving as Lottie froze. Tears filled the little girl’s eyes and spilled over, streaming down her cheeks in silent rivers as her lips trembled. The paint roller began to shake in her hand. “He’s not my dad. My daddy is dead.”

Lottie dropped the roller and ran toward the front door of the store.

Sadie followed her to the top of the aisle to see her exit and turn toward their apartment door at the back of the building. The jingling bell quieted, leaving the store silent.

Sadie looked from the closed door to Mrs. Allen, and then to David.

Paint splattered all over the tarp and surrounding floor, polka-dotting David’s jeans and the wall. Thankfully, Mrs. Allen stood far enough back that she remained paint free.

The older lady blinked, shock written across her face. “I didn’t know.”

“Of course not, Mrs. Allen.” Sadie couldn’t blame her. David did look like he could be Sadie’s father. Still, Sadie thought that most people had heard all the town gossip by now. “I’m sorry. Lottie’s still processing the emotions of losing her father. Let me go check on her. David can go over the colors with you.”

Sadie handed the color selection ring to David and hurried after Lottie.

After jogging up the steps to their apartment above the store, she opened the front door to find her daughter snuggled into the center corner of the sectional. Amber, Lottie’s American Girl doll from her dad, sat next to her as Lottie played her Nintendo switch. “You okay, kiddo?”

Lottie barely looked up. “Sorry.”

“There’s no need to be. Grief is a unique journey for each of us. Do you want to talk about it?”

Lottie paused her game and looked up. “Not right now. Can I play my game for a little bit?”

“Can I sit with you?”

Lotte shrugged. “Maybe later?”

Sadie nodded. “Can you come down in about twenty minutes? Then we can close up shop early and head to Oma’s. You can play your piano for me.”

“Ok, Mom.”

Mom. The word had brought so much joy, but today Sadie understood better the weight of responsibility that came with that title.

“Mom?”

Sadie paused at the door, looking back at Lottie.

“I left my history folder on the table.” She pointed to a yellow folder a few feet away. “There’s a big project this year about the history of Heritage, and I want to pick a different subject from anyone else.”

Sadie nodded. She’d read the info, and they could talk it over during dinner tonight. “I heard you talking about it with Mr. Williams. Did he have any ideas?”

Lottie just shook her head and didn’t look up.

“We’ll come up with something amazing.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Sadie pushed out of the apartment and closed the door behind her. She pulled up her phone and checked the camera she’d set up inside. The connection worked just fine, and she could see Lottie. She’d just let David know she was going to close up early and be right back up.

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