Page 66 of Finders Keepers

“Mommy, when are we going back home?” She asks it so casually, like she’s asking about the weather.

My hand freezes mid-stir. The kitchen suddenly feels too small, too warm. Home. What does that even mean anymore? The house in Oklahoma wasn’t home. It was a prison with nice furniture. This tiny house isn’t quite home yet either, just a safe harbor.

“What do you mean, Soph?” I manage to keep my voice steady, buying time to think.

She shrugs, picking up Mr. Hoppy and making him dance across the table. “Tommy said he’s going to Disney World in the summer. Can we go back home and then go to Disney World too?”

The knot in my chest loosens slightly. She’s not asking about Matt or Oklahoma specifically. Just the concept of “home” and the life we left behind.

“Well, sweetie, this is our home now.” I pour the eggs into the hot pan, watching them cook. “Remember how we talked about our big adventure? Moving to a new place?”

“But Daddy’s not on our adventure.” Her voice is small, confused.

My throat tightens. We’ve had variations of this conversation before, but it never gets easier.

“No, he’s not.” I scramble the eggs around the pan, add the bread in the toaster and pull the handle down. “Some adventures are just for us girls.”

“Like princesses?” She perks up at this comparison.

“Exactly like princesses.” I turn to her and place a cup of chocolate milk in front of her, relief washing through me. “Princesses who are brave and strong and have their own adventures.”

She lifts it to her mouth and gulps some down. “I’m the bravest princess,” she announces, sporting a chocolate mustache above her top lip.

“You certainly are.” I sit beside her with my own cup.

For now, the crisis is averted. But these questions will keep coming, getting harder to answer as she grows older. Someday, I’ll have to tell her the whole truth. Just not today.

I guide the cart down the cereal aisle, Sophie balanced on the side like it’s her personal chariot.

“Careful, baby.” I keep a hand on her, even though she’s getting better at holding on.

Ms. Lucy consults her shopping list, squinting through her dark-rimmed glasses. “Now, how’s Mary Beth treating you at the shop? She can be a bit overwhelming at first with all that energy.”

“I love it there.” I grab Sophie’s favorite cereal. “Mary Beth’s teaching me so much about different flowers and their meanings. Did you know purple iris represents wisdom?”

“That woman knows so much.” She chuckles, dropping a box of bran cereal in our cart. “She’s been running that shop for ages.”

Sophie points to the end of the aisle. “Look Mommy, pop tarts!”

I follow her gaze to the boxes of sugary goodness, but my attention catches on a man standing there, staring in our direction. My heart rate spikes. I grip the cart handle until my knuckles turn white and pull Sophie closer to me.

“Bailey?” Ms. Lucy’s voice breaks through my panic. “You alright, honey?”

The man starts walking toward us. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and as he gets closer, I see he’s older, probably in his seventies, with a gentle smile.

“Lucy!” His voice booms across the space between us. “I thought that was you!”

Ms. Lucy’s face lights up. “Well, if it isn’t Frank Peterson! Bailey, this is one of our town council members and head of the Spring Fling committee.”

My pulse slowly returns to normal as he reaches us, though my hands still shake slightly. “Nice to meet you,” I manage.

“So, this is the young lady helping Mary Beth at the flower shop?” His smile grows wider. “Mary Beth hasn’t stopped talking about you at our council meetings.” He looks down at Sophie, still on the side of the cart. “And who might this be?”

Sophie steps off her perch. “Sophie.” She says shyly.

“Well hello there, Miss Sophie.” He tips an imaginary hat. “Are you helping your mama shop today?”

She nods. “I’m the cart driver.”

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