Page 36 of Broken SEAL'S Secret Baby
I do a little after-storm assessment of myself. Not sore, but somehow different. It is almost as if there was some sort of mystical portal and I’d come through it to the other side.
“Daddy? Miss Kate?” Cece’s voice brings me back to Kansas. “Did you check? Is the storm over?”
Charles comes back out of the bathroom, keyes the microphone and says, “It’s mostly over. We can all go out intothe main area and have something to eat and stretch a bit. Would you like that?”
“Yes, please!” she says, nodding vigorously. “Gidget used her piddle pad, and it’s stinky!”
Charles keyes the mike off and sighs. “I didn’t think about the dog’s pee stinking,” he admits. “I thought the piddle pads would take care of it.”
I’m amused. He has the oddest gaps in his knowledge. “It’s good that you thought to put some in there. Otherwise, we might have a huge mess to clean up.”
We go out into the central part of the shelter. Charles un-dogged the latch to Cece’s pod and lets her out. The aroma that came out with the little girl isn’t horrible, but it definitely is there.
Charles looks at his daughter thoughtfully. “I think your bug-out room needs an upgrade, Cece. I planned for the cat, but it seems I didn’t plan well enough for Gidget.”
“Mr. Fluffy would like an upgrade, too,” Cece says. “I saw a video of a cat box that cleans and flushes itself. Could we get one of those?”
“I don’t see why not,” Charles says. “Are you going to be a sanitation engineer when you go to space?”
“What’s a sanitation engineer?” Cece asks, struggling with the unfamiliar words.
“It’s a person who puts in bathrooms and sinks,” I explain.
“Nope,” Cece says. “I’m gonna wear a space suit and climb around outside the spaceship so I can fix things and look at the stars up close.”
Charles and I exchange a look. It is both intimate and a little embarrassed, but also amused. We both know that Cece has only the smallest idea of what it meant to be an astronaut. But I am glad that he doesn’t quash her ambition. It says a lot about him that he would encourage her.
Right now, he wrinkles his nose at the odor emanating from Cece’s cozy nest. “I guess we’d better clean this up,” he says. “Didn’t the ventilator fans come on, Cece?”
“I dunno,” Cece says. “I was mostly asleep.”
I nip in and quietly fold the piddle pad in at the corners. It is thoroughly soaked. I look around for any other “mistakes”. The litter box has been used, but there are no other signs of pet messes.
Guilt gnaws at me. Cece had been in here, alone, with animals who had done their best to behave well, while you could not say that Charles and I had been behaving well. Warmth pools in my lower regions as well as shame.
I had been behaving like a high school bimbo in the backseat of a car while my charge was sleeping in a room with animal waste. I should have somehow been in the same room with her, looking after the child, not enjoying the skilled attentions of her father.
And oh, by the heavens, he was skilled! I’d always heard that you would get no pleasure from your first time, but he’d proven that wrong! A horrible part of me wanted to placate Cece with treats, books and toys, then grab her father and dash back to the other pod for a repeat session.
I give my sex-crazed inner self a firm mental slap, back out of the cubicle, and go in search of cleaning supplies. A low cabinet holds everything I need, including fresh kitty litter. Someone had done some planning, at least. Probably Manuela.
Angrily, I strip the sheets off the bed, dropping them in a heap in the central area.
“You don’t have to . . .” Charles starts to say.
I grit my teeth to keep from snarling. “If I don’t, then who will? Pet odor soaks into fabric, especially if it isn’t cleaned right away. What if the storm isn’t over? Do you want Cece to have to put up with this? I think, next time,Gidget needs to come in with us where she will have more room.”
“The staff. . .” Charles begins again, then stops as realization hits him.
I do my best to look amused and wise. “That’s right. I am the staff.”
“I forgot,” he says, sounding a little ashamed. “I’ll find something for us all to eat.”
By the time I have the linens changed on Cece’s bed, fresh litter in the cat box, and piddle pads put down in both cubicles for Gidget (just in case), Charles has found canned soda, chips, and cold luncheon packets for all of us.
Cece is happily telling a story about how her pod flew up in the sky and landed on the moon. “Is this green cheese, Miss Kate?” she asks, waving a small slice of cheddar.
“Nope,” I say, striving for light and cheerful. “That’s aged cheese, which is very good for little girls.”
