Page 21 of For Fox Sake

Taylor had just had the training wheels removed from her bicycle and was riding all over our property like she’d just been given the keys to the kingdom. Aria wanted desperately to learn to ride without training wheels. Taylor wouldn’t let her tag along on her “baby bike.”

So, while Taylor was in school, Aria stole her bike to teach herself. Except after attempting to ride it down the driveway, she went off the road and into the trees and popped a tire.

She was frantic. I helped her hide the evidence by taking the bike out to the far edges of the property and pushing it underneath an old, rusty, rundown tractor.

When Taylor came home and couldn’t find her bike, she had a complete meltdown. She was convinced one of the guests had stolen it.

Aria was wracked with guilt over the whole thing.

I finally convinced her that we should go to Finley, who was around twelve at the time. She helped us fix the flat tire, and then we staged a whole scene with Aria and Taylor so that Aria could “find” the bike tucked into the trees near one of the rental cabins.

Taylor was so grateful, she spent the whole weekend with Aria, letting her tag along wherever she went.

Aria was so happy. Always so eager to please everyone around her. Family was more important to her than anything.

The ache in my chest deepens. Will the grief ever end? I loved her like there was no tomorrow, and then one day there wasn’t.

“What are you drawing?”

Startled, I lift my gaze from the notebook page, locking eyes with the little girl on the sidewalk in front of the condo.

She’s hanging on to my fence with one hand, her other hand on her scooter handle, while she rolls it back and forth with one leg.

I lift my pen. “I’m writing a story.”

Her head tilts. “Is it about a superhero?”

The corners of my mouth tug upward, the hole in my chest suddenly less vast. “Sort of.”

“I like Doctor Strange. He has a cool cape. I have a cape too.” She gestures to her back.

“That’s cool. I wish I had a cape.”

She pushes the scooter up the walkway, coming a couple of feet closer. “Do you have a dog?”

“No.”

Her lips press together. “What about a cat?”

“No.”

She lets go of the scooter, letting it fall onto the grass as she walks up to the porch steps. “Hmm. My friend Bruce has a dog and a cat and a rabbit and three chickens. I don’t have any pets either,” she adds as if forgiving the offense.

“I do have sisters. They are like animals sometimes.” I pick up my coffee and take a sip. It’s barely lukewarm now.

She giggles. “Are they little or big?”

“Big. Well, not in size, but they are all older than me.”

She hops up the steps and sits in the wicker seat next to me, swinging her legs. “I don’t have any sisters or brothers.”

“Do you want some?”

She shrugs. “Maybe. Momma says babies just cry and eat a lot and can’t play or anything for years.”

I chuckle. “I suppose that’s true.”

“I don’t have a daddy.” And then before I have a minute to absorb that nugget of info, she points at my legs. “What’s on your pants?”

---