Page 33 of Suddenly Entwined

“Oh, okay. That makes things easier.”

“Get your things, Lou,” Joan says, twisting in her office chair to face her.

Louisa sticks close to my side as we walk toward my car.

“How come you’re picking me up? Where’s my dad? What happened to your hand?”

“Woah,” I laugh, taking her bag from her. “One question at a time.”

I open the back door and she climbs in.

“Do I need to buckle you?”

She gives me a look of disdain. “I’m not a baby, Caro.”

I hold up my hands in surrender. “Of course. You’re seven now."

As I back out of the parking spot and head back toward home, I address her questions.

“I’m picking you up because I’m awesome. Your dad is stuck at work. And I accidentally cut my hand on some glass.”

“Ouch.”

I nod my agreement, accelerating as I leave the school zone.

“And how are you feeling?”

“My head is hot.”

“I bet. We’ll take it easy today, okay?”

Berg’s phone rings in my cup holder, which it’s done about half a dozen times in the last half hour. I’ve turned down the volume considerably. Apparently, working in construction means a lot of people have your number. I try not to thinktoo hard about what notifications Berg is getting on my phone today. Period trackers? Reminders to meditate that I normally ignore? Probably texts that my telephone bill is overdue.

“Crap,” I say, recognizing the number. “I mean, darn.”

I’m not a big swearer, but I’ll need to do a better job censoring myself.

“Hello, Joan,” I sigh. “Natalie too?”

“Yep. Sorry.”

I glance behind me at Lou, who is drawing hearts on the slightly fogged up back windows.

I’m so relieved I brought both the car seats. For someone who keeps telling herself I can’t do this job, I’m feeling remarkably like a nanny.

***

“This doesn’t taste as good as hot chocolate,” Natalie says, eyeballing the steaming surface of her mug.

“It’s not supposed to. This is better for you guys if you aren’t feeling good. That last thing you need is a bunch of milk and sugar.”

I text Berg that I have both the girls and to not bother coming home from work early. He messages back about a dozen thank you’s. All the kids wanted when they came in was to curl up in their dad’s bed and watch television, which sounded like a great idea to me. I remember doing the same thing as a kid and being doted on by my mom.

“I think it’s yummy,” Lou says over the rim of her tea.

“Good. Drink up.”

It’s stuffy nose city at the MacMillan household. And with every minute that goes by, it’s hard to convince myself that I’m not sick too. We’ve been through an entire box of Kleenex and I’ve made us all mint teas with lemon and honey. Their fevers are low grade, but their eyes are glassy and they aren’t nearly as energetic as I’ve seen them.

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