Page 16 of Savannah Sweethearts

“Of course, of course. Is Mrs. Harris okay?” I sat upright, prompting Trainer to start meowing for her breakfast. “Shush, Trainer.”

There was a commotion on the other end of the phone, and Tyrell was barking orders. “She can’t walk. I think she broke her leg; I’m not sure. It’s a miracle the girls thought to call me and tell me Gigi was hurt.”

That must have frightened the girls terribly. How could I take their mind off what had happened? “She’ll be okay, mon ange. Bring the girls here and don’t give it a second thought. Get your mom better.”

“We’ll be there in five.”

I threw on a dress—who had time for pants?—and pulled my hair up in a bun. After a quick stop in the bathroom, I tidied up just in time for the doorbell to ring.

The girls bound into my apartment, talking a mile a minute. “Miss Ashley, Daddy said you have a cat!”

“I’m hungry. Can we have McDonald’s?”

“Oh, that’s so pretty.”

“Gigi got hurt.”

Tyrell looked frazzled. “Mom’s in the car. I had to carry her.” He thrust a bag toward me with a few toys, tablets, and blankets in it.

I put my hands on his cheeks to make him hold still. “Ty. Stop. Take a deep breath.” I looked into his eyes as he breathed in and out. “I know you’re worried, but she will be okay. And the girls will be fine. Take care of your mom, but stop panicking. It helps no one.”

He closed his eyes and pulled me in for a hug. “Thank you, Dream Girl.” He kissed my forehead before saying goodbye to the girls and disappearing.

Two little girls sat on my hastily made bed and stared at me. I stared back. Trainer jumped up on the coffee table between us, and the girls squealed in delight. Sensing a need to flee, Trainer took off, and the girls followed her around the kitchen island and back to my bed where Trainer slid underneath to safety.

“I want to play with the kitty.” One of the girls tried to fit under the bed but couldn’t, while the other climbed on the bed and dangled her head off the side.

That’s when I realized I had no idea which girl was which. I was doing good to remember that their names were Sami and Saffi, but I couldn’t tell them apart. Looking from one to the other, I breathed a sigh of relief that they were not in matching outfits. One wore a green shirt, while the other was in pink.

“That’s Trainer. Let’s give her a few minutes, and maybe she’ll come out to play. How about I make pancakes?” I clapped my hands like I would in my classroom. Both girls’ heads popped up to attention. “Come sit up here and tell me what you did with Gigi last night while I cook.”

I whipped up pancake batter and heated the skillet while they rattled off everything they had done with their grandmother. By the time they were done, the pancakes were ready, and Trainer had finally peaked her head out from under the bed.

“Why don’t we go to the park?” I suggested. “The bathroom is right over there.” I pointed to the first door down the hallway. "How about you both go potty, and we’ll go play.”

I cleaned up a little bit while they tore off for the bathroom. Those girls did everything in a hurry. I threw some water bottles in my bag, along with a few apples and a frisbee. The benefit of living in Savannah is there are plenty of green spaces to play, and I was grateful to have Baldwin Park right outside my front door. After a quick text to Tyrell checking in, we headed out.

Still not sure which girl was which, I stretched my hand out toward them. “Saffi, take my hand.” The girl in green took my hand. Saffi was in green. I repeated that in my head a few times. “Sami, take Saffi’s hand.” The one in pink latched onto her sister.

As we marched across the street, I recited in my head Saffi green, Sami pink. Saffi green, Sami pink. The girls were thrilled to run wild for a few minutes on their own while I watched. They attempted cartwheels and danced arm in arm. It was like being at work with my class. Keep them occupied and in sight, and everything would be all right.

We played and ran outside for almost an hour, the girls happily shrieking as they chased birds, squirrels, and me.

When we sat down for some water and a snack, a police officer approached us. “Ma’am? Are these your children?”

The girls clearly did not resemble me in any way, but seeing sitters or nannies were commonplace in the city, so I thought the question a little odd. “No, sir. I’m watching them for their father, who had an emergency.”

“Where is their mother?”

I scooted forward on the bench so the girls were a little more behind me. “Their father, Tyrell Harris, could not get ahold of her. His mother needed to go to the hospital right away, and he asked me to keep them.”

Sabra came up a sidewalk in that moment dressed in a skin-tight catsuit. “She’s a liar. She kidnapped my children. She also stole my man. Arrest her.”

Kidnapped? What? I stood and stepped forward, thinking that putting space between the adults and the girls would spare them from hearing this. “Ms. Thomas, I assure you I did not kidnap the girls. Tyrell asked me to watch them while he took his mother to the hospital.” But my words fell on deaf ears.

She waved her arms wildly. “I want her arrested.” The girls had seen her and gone running to her. “Don’t worry, girls, Momma is here.”

The one in green—Saffi?—pulled on her mom’s shirt. “Momma, Miss Ashley is from school. She’s Daddy’s friend.”

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