Page 44 of Finding Home

“Oh my goodness,” Dad says. “Did you taste the batter, you little sneak?”

Raine squeals with delight, giving herself away, and all three break into happy guffaws.

“Okay, my littlechef de partie,” Dad says to Raine, once his laughter subsides. “Let’s see if you’re done mixing.” To Caleb, he explains. “That means pastry chef in French.” Dad worked in fast food as a teenager. Apparently, he got the bright idea to assign everyone in the kitchen a fancy title,the same ones assigned in the fanciest French restaurants, and he’s been tossing out the verbiage ever since. With no hint of an actual French accent, by the way.

“Good?” Raine asks Caleb, looking up at him expectantly.

“Yup. Great job. Wait a minute, is that a finger-sized hole in there? That looks suspiciously like aRaine-sized finger hole to me!”

The trio breaks into happy guffaws again.

“It me!” Raine says gaily, and the trio cracks up, once again.

I clutch my heart. Is there a better sound in this world than a child belly laughing? If so, I haven’t discovered it yet.

“Okay, team,” Dad says. “Let’s make some batter with blueberries in it now. Grammy and Auntie Aubbey both love blueberry pancakes the most.”

“Yum,” Raine murmurs.

“Really?” Dad says. “I thought blueberry is your third favorite.”

“Tird,” Rainey confirms.

“But it’s still worthy of ayum?” Dad asks, laughing.

“Yummm,” Raine replies, with extra gusto, and the trio laughs together again.

“Can you hold up three fingers?” Dad asks Raine.

When she tries, and fails, Caleb maneuvers her little fingers to help her out. It’s a small thing, I know, the way Caleb’s massive, tattooed hands look while gently moving Raine’s little fingers into place. But it’s enough to send my heart beating in an irregular rhythm.

“There you go,” Caleb coos. He rustles Raine’s blonde hair. “Okay,chef party.” He looks at Dad. “Chef party?”

“Chef de partie.”

Caleb returns to Raine. “Hold tight onto the counter,chef de partie, while I get the blueberries from the fridge. Hold tight now. Good girl.” With Raine’s palms laid flush on the counter, Caleb turns toward the refrigerator and immediately discovers me standing in the doorway with my hands on my chest and moisture in my eyes.

He shoots me an excited grin. One I’d caption,Do you see how great it’s going? But before an actual word is exchanged, Dad calls out something to Raine, with his back facing me and his eyes on the griddle, that instantly commands my full attention.

“Hey Rainey, did you know Coobie is yourdaddy?”

At Dad’s question, Caleb’s eyes go wide and my jaw drops. Shit. I never would have introduced that concept to Raine this early on. For all we know, Caleb isn’t going to stick around until the custody hearing in a month, let alone for the rest of his natural life. Did Dad consult Mom before revealing that shocking bit of news to Raine? Mom is the school counselor in this family. The expert who’s read books on child psychology and development. So,she’sthe one who should lead the charge on when and if Raine finds out Caleb’s identity.

“Rainey dadda?” Raine asks, looking at Caleb, who looks deeply tongue-tied.

“Yep,” Dad says breezily, still facing away. “Caleb is Rainey’s daddy, just like I’m Auntie Aubbey’s daddy.”

Crap. If Dad’s going rogue here and introducing this concept without Mom’s blessing, this could end badly for poor Raine. “Hey, Dad,” I blurt, my voice tight. “Maybe let’s not?—”

“Good morning, Shortcake!” Dad bellows happily. “Coffee’s made. Blueberry pancakes on the way. Is Mom still on her bike?”

“Yeah. Can I speak to you for a minute in private?”

“Can’t right now, honey.” Dad motions to the griddle full of pancakes. “The executive chef of the team—that’s me—” He winks at Raine. “Can’t fall down on the job.”

“Dadda, dadda, dadda,” Raine sings, shaking her little booty, as she continues gripping the counter, as instructed; but it’s not clear if she’s singing the word as a simple earworm or if she’s specifically calling Caleb the moniker.

“That’s right,” Dad replies smoothly. “Coobie’s Rainey’s dadda.” He winks at Caleb, who’s still standing stock-still at the refrigerator with the door wide open. “Hey,sous chef. That’s you, Coobie. Get those blueberries and shut the door already. Electricity is expensive.”

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