Page 19 of Entwined Hearts

I watch them carefully for a moment, then move back to the kitchen. Paige follows me, flipping her long braid over her shoulder as she leans into the fridge for the veggies.

She begins chopping, the slow, methodicaltap, tap, tapagainst the cutting board filling the silence.

I toss the pasta with the heated sauce, then bring the bowl to the table. On the other end of the room, Maddy is serving my dad imaginary tea in a pink princess tent. I can’t see my dad’s face, but Maddy seems delighted with the game, so I relax.

“Dinner,” Paige says, bringing Maddy’s unicorn plate containing chopped veggies and butter pasta to the table.

Maddy ducks from under the tent, and I see she’s wearing her swim goggles.

“Did you take Grandpa for a swim?” Paige asks as Maddy climbs into her booster chair.

“With the narwhals,” Maddy answers.

Dad crawls out of the tent, then clambers to his feet. It’s odd to watch him on the floor like this. He’d probably defend himself by saying he was too busy working when we were kids to play with us. I have a memory of playing catch with him in the backyard, but it must have been before Mom died. Because that’s when everything changed.

My dad settles into his chair, and Paige says a simple grace. It’s something she’s started doing since being with Scott. Even though it did nothing to improve their situation, she’s continued the habit.

Maddy crunches her carrot. “I’m a bunny,” she says, gnawing her carrot down bite by bite, her lips curled back.

“Yes, you are,” I say, smiling as I pass the pasta to Paige.

“Chew with your mouth closed,” my dad says to Maddy.

I don’t want to start a scene at the table, but if he goes too far with his “do this, don’t do that,” routine, I will.

“No,” Maddy says, then giggles.

“How’s work, Dad?” I ask to steer him away from Maddy’s table manners.

“Same old,” he says, stabbing a bite. “How’s the roofing business?”

“Fine,” I say, tensing my fingers under the table. Roofing isn’t my dream job, but it pays the bills. Plus, it’s flexible employment. I also get to work outside. My boss is a prick, but whatever.

“I thought you were going to fix up this place?” he says, looking around. “God knows it needs it.”

“I’m working on it,” I say, keeping my voice measured. My already-tight stomach is squeezing into my diaphragm. I breathe into it, forcing it down.

Maddy is trying to stab her peas with her fork, but they keep jumping all over her plate. Finally, she drops her fork and plucks the peas into her mouth one at a time.

“You should blow out that wall to make an extra bedroom,” he says. “Or redo the kitchen. Get rid of that awful countertop.”

“We’ll take that into consideration,” I say.

I feel my dad watching me as I fork a bite of pasta, but when I look up, he’s focusing on Paige.

“Tell me again where Scott is now?” Dad says, scooping a bite of pasta into his mouth.

“The Middle East. That’s all I know, remember?” she says, her eyes clouding.

“They don’t let them talk about it,” I remind Dad, wishing he would stay out of it.

“He said he might call…” Paige says. I notice she’s eating fast.

“I still think they should have let him come home for Christmas,” Dad says. “It’s not right.”

“You know it doesn’t work like that,” I say. And Christmas was much more peaceful without Scott.

“But how is this a life for Maddyson?” he asks.

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