Adventures In Parenthood

“It was a tie,” Ginger said, tears the size of jelly beans shivering in her brown eyes.

“You’re such a baby,” Sienna said.

“No, I’m not. Daddy says you can’t be mean to me.”

“Daddy’s gone.”

“Stop saying that!” Ginger burst into serious tears this time and Dixon felt his own eyes burn.

“Please don’t cry,” Aubrey said. “We were having fun and laughing, remember?” She shot Dixon a look. What do we do now?

He had no idea.

“I can’t help it,” Ginger sobbed. “I forgot what happened. I think they’ll be here soon to kiss us good-night.”

“But they won’t be,” Sienna said angrily. “Stop thinking that.” She climbed up the ladder, got under the covers and turned her face to the wall.

Ginger cried quietly.

Dixon racked his brain for something to talk about.

“Is this your bedtime book?” Aubrey picked up Ramona the Pest from the nightstand.

How had he forgotten? “Yeah,” he said, taking the book. “Time to read.”

“Can Auntie Aubba do it?” Ginger asked.

“If she wants to.” He looked at her.

“I’d love to.” She smiled hesitantly.

“That’s the reading chair right there.” Dixon motioned at the tiny chair a foot from the bunk beds.

“You’re kidding.”

“Trust me. It’s the rule.”

She sat in the low chair, set the book on her knees, which jutted up to her chin, and opened it to the marked page.

She’d barely finished a paragraph before Sienna gave a strangled cry. “You have to stop. Make her stop, Uncle Dixon.”

“What’s wrong?” Aubrey closed the book on her thumb, bright red blotches on her cheeks.

“That’s not nice, Sienna,” Dixon said. She was upset, but that was no excuse to be mean.

“She’s trying to sound like our mommy,” Sienna said. “You’re not her,” she said to Aubrey. “Don’t pretend you are.”

“Your mom’s my sister. We sound alike, I guess.”

“Now my stomach feels sicker,” Ginger said.

“That’s probably all the junk food I let you eat,” Dixon said to ease the moment.

“I’ll let you finish.” Aubrey handed him the book, ducking his gaze, clearly mortified. “Night, girls,” she muttered, almost running out the door. She pulled it shut.

“No! Leave it open!” Ginger called. “We need the line of light!”

The door cracked. “Sorry,” Aubrey called from the hallway.

“You girls need to be kinder to your aunt,” Dixon said. “She lost her sister, and she’s sad, too. In the morning, I want you to say you’re sorry.”

Sienna didn’t respond, and he didn’t feel like pushing it.

“Now get some sleep,” he said. Sleep would help. But from the doorway, he saw both sets of eyes staring at him, wide-awake.

Please let them sleep, he silently prayed. It’s their only escape.

Their wide eyes still haunting him, Dixon headed for the living room to talk to Aubrey, uncertain how emotional she would be. He’d been startled when she’d fallen against him on the porch. She’d always had such a sexy swagger. She was more fragile than she let on.

They all were. He felt raw, like the skin beneath a blister, sensitive to the air. And the girls were on the brink of hysteria every minute. They would all have to be careful with each other. That was all there was to it.

* * *

HER VOICE HAD made the girls cry. The sting of that shame threatened to level Aubrey, but she forced herself to forget it, to stay busy. She wasn’t ready to sink into the sorrow that awaited her. She grabbed her roller bag to get settled in the guest room.

Except there she saw Dixon’s suitcase open on the floor beside the computer desk, and smelled his cologne. Of course he’d be here. He’d been staying with the girls.

“You can have this room.” His voice floated from the doorway, and she turned to find him leaning against the doorjamb.

“No, no. I’ll use the other bedroom.” She started to pass him, but he stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. “But that’s Howard and Brianna’s room. It might be difficult for you.” He held her gaze. She’d forgotten how intense his dark eyes were, how they pulled you in, turned everything else into a blur. At the wedding, it had been the way he’d looked at her that had convinced her to drag him onto the dance floor, then out to the beach, to get more of those eyes on her.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. She had to be.

“You sure?”

She blew out a breath. “Truthfully? I’m not sure about anything. For now, let’s go with fine.”

“I’m sorry about that nonsense over your voice. I asked Sienna to apologize.”

“There’s no need for that.” She threw back her shoulders, hating that Dixon had noticed her hurt. “I understand completely. Brianna and I went through that after Mom died. One of us would use one of her expressions and it felt like a sucker punch.”

“Still, Sienna was harsh.” He frowned. “They usually don’t pick on each other so much, either.”

“That’s normal. Brianna and I had a terrible fight when we got back from the funeral over a borrowed sweater. We were taking out our anger about Mom dying on each other. That’s what the girls are doing, I’m sure.”

“That makes sense.” His gaze gentled.

“It won’t last long. It didn’t with me and Brianna. In fact, we got a lot closer, leaned on each other more. We were all we had.”