Page 24 of Like A Daydream
“But they aren’t here,” Harper says, pulling back and wiping her nose along her whole arm. Danielle hands her the hem of her shirt for her as a tissue.
“It doesn’t mean they aren’t your family,” Danielle says, crouching so she’s eye level with Harper again. “They’re always going to be your mom and dad.”
Harper sniffs again, but Danielle can tell that she’s put out today’s fire, even though there’s going to be plenty more where that came from.
“Do you want to come help Miss Cara in the café?” Danielle asks. “I’ll make you a vanilla Frappuccino.”
“Can you put caramel in it?” Harper asks, sniffling, “and chocolate?”
“Is there any other way you’d drink it?” Danielle asks. Harper flings her arms around Danielle’s neck.
“Is Uncle Erick mad?” Harper asks. Danielle steps back so she can hop off the desk. “He didn’t seem happy when he came to get me.”
“He’s not mad,” Danielle replies. “He’s… figuring it out as he goes. This is new for both of us.”
“You’re both grownups,” Harper says, looking up at her. “You’re supposed to know everything.”
Danielle laughs. “Grownups are just pretending to know everything, we’re just as confused as you are most of the time.”
Erick’s car pulls into Danielle’s driveway about fifteen minutes after Harper goes to bed. She sets out a plate of dinner for him, and he comes inside, clearly exhausted from his shift in the ER.
He looks like Emerson. The golden, All-American, classically handsome, boy-next-door. If he hadn’t practically been Danielle’s brother growing up, she would have probably married him by now and saved herself a lot of trouble instead of chasing Jet Thompson.
“You didn’t have to cook for me,” he says, sitting at the kitchen table, tired smile on his face as his eyes follow her around the kitchen. “But it’s better than ramen.”
“Are you doing okay?” Danielle says, sitting across from him. She sets a glass of water down, and his eyes soften when he looks at her.
“I should be asking you the same thing,” Erick says, shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth. “Is Harper okay?”
“They asked her to draw her family,” Danielle says with a sigh. “And she didn’t know who to draw.”
“That’s it?” Erick asks. “Seems a little dramatic, if you ask me.”
“She’s six, Erick,” Danielle says, “and if we’re a mess, imagine being her. She went from her parents, to us. Tome. How unlucky does she have to be to have all of this happen to her when she’s this young?”
“You’re right,” he says, “that wasn’t nice of me to say. And it was pretty insensitive of the teacher, since the whole town knows what happened.”
“I’m going to call the school tomorrow,” Danielle says, “see if there’s anything that can be done. Advocate, you know. Like a good parent does.”
Erick reaches across the table and takes her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, letting his hand linger over hers just a moment too long. She pulls back and offers half a smile.
“You’re braver than me,” he says, “taking all of this on. Losing Em, and Jack, and now being a pseudo-mother to Harper.”
“I did what anyone would do,” Danielle says, standing up. She goes to the sink to finish rinsing dishes.
Because that is what she’s doing, right? The thing that would honor her friends the most, and would reassure them that their daughter was going to be alright, no matter what happened to them? This wasn’t some sort of hero complex in action?
“I don’t think so,” Erick says, shaking his head, “I would have because she’s my niece and I would run through a wall for her. But you, you could have walked away the minute they flat-lined.”
“If it was anyone else, I might have,” she says, “but it’s Harper.”
“It’s Harper,” Erick agrees, nodding his head.
“I’m sorry I didn’t have my phone on me,” she says. “We had a rush this morning.”
“All good,” he replies. “Sorry I was so short about it. People understand and are giving me a grace period, but it’s hard to leave when a patient is coding in front of you. Who was that guy with Jet? He looked familiar.”
“Andrew Fisher,” she says. “He plays for an NHL Team in –”
