Page 45 of Finding Home

“Oh. Sorry.” Caleb follows instructions, but it’s obvious he’s not thinking about pancakes any longer. On the contrary, he’s clearly bursting with excitement about this unexpected turn of events.

“Now go ahead and measure out another batch of ingredients for thechef de partieto mix up,” Dad instructs. “Let’s get some blueberry pancakes into the assembly line.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, chef.”

“Yes, chef.” Caleb returns to Raine, where he slides a protective arm around her again and does as he’s told. But through it all, he keeps glancing at me, like he’s awaiting my reaction.

Finally, when it’s clear I’m at a loss for words, Caleb says to Raine, “Just so you know, you can keep calling me Caleb or Coobie.”

“Or Dadda,” Dad chimes in.

“Whatever you want to call me is okay.”

Dad chuckles. “You can even call him Coobie Dooby Doo, if you want. You know, like Scooby Dooby Doo?”

Raine laughs uproariously. She’s watched that cartoon,I think; but surely, she’s simply laughing at Dad’s silly inflection, rather than understanding the pun.

“Coobie Dooby Doo,” Caleb echoes. “I like that.”

“Coobie doo doo,” Raine tries, and everyone laughs.

“Hey, I think my daughter just call me poop!” Caleb teases, and Raine screams with laughter, causing the rest of us, even me, to laugh, too.

“Okay, team,” Dad says. “The executive chef is ready for some more batter and blueberries.Chef de partie—that’s you, Rainey—do you have some more batter for me?”

Raine tries to pick up her plastic bowl to show him, but in doing so, she knocks over a coffee mug sitting nearby.

“Uh oh!” Raine says sheepishly, her big eyes widening. “It thpilled.”

“No worries,” Caleb says, as I say something similar.

I dart toward a drawer to grab a towel, but Caleb beats me to the punch by grabbing a nearby paper towel. After mopping up the spill, Caleb places his large, inked hand on Raine’s head and says. “Don’t worry, party chef. We all make mistakes. I sure do. All that matters is you keep your cool, fix the mistake if possible, and keep going. Right, Auntie Aubbey?”

My heart skips a beat. “That’s right.”

Warmth oozes into my core. I’m not sure what spell has been cast on Caleb, or if it will last, but it’s clear he’s undergone some kind of metamorphosis overnight.

“Auntie Aubbey!” Raine calls to me. She pokes Caleb’s forearm. “Dis Coobie Dadda. Dadda clean up. Dis dadda.”

Caleb’s chest expands and freezes that way. Did she just call him Daddy? It’s hard to say. But it certainly felt that way. Shit. If it turns out Mom thinks it was a bad idea for Dad to reveal Caleb’s identity to Raine this soon, we’reclearly not going to be able to stuff this genie back into the bottle.

“Yup,” I choke out. “Dadda cleaned it up for you. Because that’s what nice daddies do.”

“Dadda, dadda, dadda,” Raine sings out, as she happily shakes her little tush and mixes the contents of her bowl.

“I’ll, uh, tell Mom breakfast is ready,” I murmur, before turning from the doorway and bolting across the living room on rubbery legs.

When I get to Mom, I tell her everything that just transpired in the kitchen.

“You don’t seem happy about this,” Mom observes.

“I’m wary. What if Caleb doesn’t make it to the custody hearing, and then Raine feels like she’s lost her daddy on top of losing her mommy?”

Mom smiles. “I think this is a chicken-egg kind of situation. Would I have done it this way? No. But I have to think Raine learning to accept Caleb as her daddy will only strengthen the bond and motivate Caleb to keep going, even more.”

“So, you think it’ll be a good thing, in the end?” I squeak out.

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