Page 27 of Give & Take

I shrug. “Mostly axes and horror movies.” I look at Nova. “Plus my poisonous mushroom collection.”

Nova’s jaw drops, her eyes lighting up. Aurora just looks confused. “Mushrooms?” she asks in her sweet little-girl voice.

Lana tightens the straps on her bag. “He’s joking.” She shoots me a look, as if suddenly unsure.

I can’t help myself, I laugh. “What are your guesses, girls?” I ask.

They rattle off the items, some ridiculous, some on point. “A blender! A basketball!”

“You can go ahead and open it,” I say. “Y’all guessed so well I’ll give you both a prize.”

“Hugs first,” Lana says. She kneels down to say goodbye, her face softening. Over their heads, her eyes meet mine. And with that look, I know she’s asking me to be serious.

“Listen to Raphael, okay? And if you need anything at all, you know where to reach me.”

I give her a smile, and this time, there’s no message to her in it, except ‘Yes, I’ll keep them safe.’

This message communicated, the rest of her softens too. She hugs her children, closing her eyes as she cradles their heads against her shoulders.

My heart clenches. I can almost see the love around them, like it’s a physical thing. Her coolness, her stiffness and the mask she wears as she makes her way through the world come off when she’s with her girls. She’s a fantastic, loving mom. These are happy, well-adjusted kids. It’s beautiful to watch.

I feel the tiniest twitch in my chest, a little pang. It’s a sensation of FOMO. Like this is something I’ll never have. Though the fact that I’m feeling it is bizarre. I’m not a settle down in the suburbs kind of guy. Not that this place is the suburbs. Or that there’s anything wrong with the suburbs, necessarily. It’s just not for me. Still, seeing the three of them shower each other with kisses and hugs, I can’t help wonder if it wouldn’t be the worst choice.

When Lana opens her eyes, her hands still wrapped around her girls’ backs, for the first time her expressionlooks different. Like just for a brief moment, she wonders whatI’mthinking.

Then it’s gone, and she’s gone too, and the mayhem begins.

The kids and I call the trial week the Googly Gauntlet, just to take it a little less seriously. And it goes by just as ridiculously as I planned.

On the first day we decide to go to every playground in town on foot. As it turns out, there are only two playgrounds in town, three if you count the elementary school, and the town itself is so small, walking across it only takes twenty minutes. We stop at the coffee shop for refreshments, where the woman working there, called Dolly—who actually looks a lot like Dolly Parton—coos over the girls, offering us enough free sugar the owner pulls her aside to grumble at her about it. When I offer to pay, Dolly says “Don’t be ridiculous! Mr. Miles charges too much for these anyway,” And hands us another free cookie right in front of his face, not accepting no for an answer.

In the afternoon we count stop signs, which is more fun than it sounds. Aurora’s our spotter, and each time she sees one, she hollers “STOP SIGN!” We stop, I make a blaring horn sound, and Nova, as record keeper, announces the count. She’s shockingly good at it considering she’s doing it in her head. Even more impressive is the full accounting she gives her mom when she gets home, which I miss half of because I’m too distracted bywatching Lana move around loosening her hair and the sexy little tie she wears at work and brought home.

“…seven slides, fourteen swings, twenty-nine stop signs, thirty-five pieces of garbage?—”

“That we threw away!” Aurora emphasizes.

“Two pairs of shoes on telephone wires?—”

“Why do they do that?” I ask Lana.

“One dead seagull,” Nova continues, “and a full jar of peanut butter.”

Aurora harrumphs. “Raphael said we couldn’t keep it.” It’s the first time she’d shown me any disapproval, though she’d forgotten about it until now.

“The seagullorthe peanut butter,” Nova says sadly.

“I might get a failing grade for that one,” I tell Lana. I explain how I’ve told them to grade me on the Googly Gauntlet to see if I can stay.

I give her doe eyes, then Nova and Aurora do too.

Lana actually laughs.

For a moment I go still. It’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh. It’s like a soft pour of water over rocks. Beautiful and soft, but still restrained. What would a real, unreserved laugh sound like? How would she look, her head tipped back, grin wide, those stunning eyes shining?

Still, it’s such a coup, I whoop and swing Aurora around to happy squeals. When I do the secret handshake with Nova, Lana gives me a look of gratitude I know isn’t about me keeping them clear of deceased birds or rehoming random found food.

The next day we go to Swan River, where we eat a picnic lunch on the pier and count boats. Which leads to us coming back to Redbeard Cove the following day,where Shelby arranges for us to join this sweet old local guy called Stu for a boat ride. Well, Shelby said he was sweet. He’s actually a crabby bugger who complains that the girls are too loud and nearly goes on strike in his tiny kitchen when Aurora asks to have the crusts cut off her sandwich.

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