Page 69 of Choose the Bears

“This is awesome,” she announced, right as a child babbled the story of what they painted to her. “Some of the kids are terrified of the idea of a mess, and you’ve got every single one of them engaging.”

A few of the quieter kids warmed up once we got started, taking the squealing, shouting cues from the other children, but some remained restrained. They worked carefully to draw different shapes in the paint, intent on recording something.

“They are,” I agreed, even if it was a little ruefully.

“Miss Immie! Miss Immie!” A little girl waved me over frantically with hands painted neon green. “Look! I drewed my family.”

I resisted the urge to correct her, sinking down to her level to look at her table.

“That’s Mummy. That’s Dan-dan.” Her brother’s name was Daniel. “That’s Bingo.” She was a dog drawn with a few too many legs. “And that’s me!”

No father, I noted that silently, even as I smiled and nodded through her explanation.

“It’s beautiful, Chloe,” I said. “Should we take a print of it?”

“Yes!”

“One piece of paper coming right up.”

Kyle swept in with a piece of paper, not noticing the way Chloe scuttled back a little too fast. Her little eyes widened, and I wondered at what she was seeing, but the little girl recovered quickly. Kyle was big, he was strong, but he was safe, she seemed to decide. A small smile formed, fragile and ready to be dashed away, but as he carefully laid the paper down to take a print of her painting, then used his hands to smooth down the paper, not hurt her, she rallied.

“Your mummy will love that painting,” I told her, reaching out, and her little hand gripped mine tightly, hope flaring to life in her chest. “She’ll be very proud.”

“All printed.” Kyle peeled the paper back and showed it to her and the girl’s face lit up, her fingers twitching as she recognised each figure on the print. “So what else are you going to paint, Chloe?”

“Kyle!” she said, pointing to the man. “Books! Bear!”

I blinked.

Inside my head I knew what was happening. All the kids seemed completely taken by the grumpy bear books, so of course that’s what they talked about or painted, but… What was with those damn dreams?

“Everything OK?” Ursula paused midway through taking a print over to the drying rack. She seemed as attuned to my mood as the kids.

“Everything’s great,” I replied, right before I was summoned forth. Another child and another wanted to tell me the story behind their artworks, and I did what they seemed to need: listen.

After what felt like hours,the session came to an end and the real work commenced. We helped the kids clean themselves up, tossing the smocks into a tub for washing, then began scraping the tables clean.

Well, Kyle and I did.

“Shit, looks like we’ve got a new client being brought in,” Ursula said, looking down at her phone. “I’ve gotta go. I can send someone up?—”

“It’s cool.” Kyle was the perfect guy for this kind of thing: endlessly calm and placid. He worked to scrape the paint into a big bin with slow methodical strokes. “We’ve got this.”

“You don’t meet the new clients?” I asked him when Ursula rushed out.

“Not at first.” His focus was on the tabletop, not me, so I started scraping down my own table. “Seeing a big dude when you’ve just escaped a brutal situation.” He shrugged. “Not great for making you feel safe. Honestly, when Ursula first started this place up, she wasn’t sure if we should have any role at all.” His eyes met mine. “Every woman is here because of some dickhead who went out of his way to hurt her.”

Even me, I thought idly, then shook my head.

“So it makes sense that we should steer clear until people feel secure enough to deal with us.”

“But not me.” That came out without thought. “You didn’t do that with me.” I’d finished scraping this table clean and was moving to one of the last ones that needed cleaning. “You three were all over the whole process, getting me out of my old place and into the new one, then protecting me from Phil.”

“That was different.”

He said that so definitely, as if he knew exactly why, but I didn’t.

“Why not send Ursula to install the security system?” I asked. “Change the door?”

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