Page 8 of Curvy Girl and the Single Dad Dragon
The rest of the morning passes in a pleasant routine of lessons. Ember is indeed advanced in reading, currently working her way through chapter books meant for children several years older, and she has an incredible grasp of science concepts. Math, as Damon warned, requires more patience, but we make it through her assigned problems with only minimal frustration.
After lunch (sandwiches with an impressive amount of turkey for such a small child), we head outside to enjoy the beautiful spring day. The property backs up to woods, with a cleared area containing a playset complete with swings, slide, and a small climbing wall I hadn’t noticed before.
"Daddy built this for me when we moved here," Ember tells me as she scrambles up the climbing wall with surprising strength and agility. "He said every dragon needs a place to spread their wings."
I smile at her imagination. "Your daddy really encourages your love of dragons, doesn't he?"
"It's because we're—" She stops suddenly, her eyes widening as if she's said something wrong. "It's because he knows I love them," she finishes, less convincingly.
As she plays, I notice how careful she is with certain toys, particularly anything plush or fabric. When I suggest a game of tag, she seems momentarily panicked.
"We can't play chase games," she says quickly. "It makes me too excited and then accidents happen."
"What kind of accidents?" I ask gently.
She looks down at her shoes. "I'm not supposed to talk about it."
Remembering Damon's mention of anxiety episodes, I don't press the issue. "That's okay. How about we collect some pretty rocks instead? I noticed some interesting ones in the garden yesterday."
Her face brightens immediately. "Yes! I can show you my special collection!"
We spend the afternoon exploring the property, with Ember pointing out her favorite spots. The hollow tree where rabbits sometimes hide, the patch of wild strawberries just beginning to flower, the large flat rock at the edge of the woods that gets warm in the sun "perfect for a dragon to bask on," according to Ember.
By the time we head inside for her afternoon snack, I've almost forgotten the strange moments from earlier. Ember is simply a bright, imaginative child with a dragon fixation. Nothing unusual about that.
Until, that is, I'm preparing her snack—apple slices and peanut butter with a side of beef jerky, per Damon's instructions about protein—and I hear a crash from the living room followed by a small cry.
I rush in to find Ember standing by the coffee table, looking in horror at a broken picture frame on the floor. It's the only family photo I'd noticed yesterday, the one with the blonde woman I assume is her mother.
"I didn't mean to," she says, her voice trembling. "I was just looking at Mommy and it fell."
"It's okay, sweetheart. Accidents happen." I move to comfort her but stop when I notice something alarming. Is that... smoke coming from her nostrils?
"Ember?" I step closer, concerned. "Are you feeling alright?"
Her eyes are wide with panic.
"I need Daddy," she whispers, backing away from me. "I can't stop it."
"Can't stop what?" I ask, reaching for her just as I notice her cheeks glowing with an internal light, like embers in a fire, and then I understand her name with sudden clarity as a small puff of flame escapes her lips.
I freeze, unable to process what I've just seen.
"Don't be scared," she pleads, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. "Please don't run away like Mommy did."
The rational part of my brain is screaming that this is impossible, that children don't breathe fire. But the evidence is right in front of me. The singed carpet where the tiny flame landed, the wisps of smoke still curling from her mouth, the unnatural heat radiating from her small body.
And suddenly, all the strange comments and behaviors make sense. The "special secret." The warnings about "accidents." Damon's vetting of potential nannies. The obsession with dragons.
My mind races back to yesterday—*"This is me and Daddy," she had explained, then pointed to another drawing showing the same two figures, but with what looked like red and orange flames coming from their mouths. "And this is our special secret."*
They weren't pretending to be dragons. They *are* dragons. Or... something impossible that breathes fire.
I should be terrified. I should be running for the door. But all I can see is a frightened little girl who thinks I'm going to abandon her just like her mother did. So instead of running, I kneel down to her level and do what Damon instructed. I help her focus on her breathing.
"In through your nose," I say calmly, demonstrating. "Out through your mouth."
Her eyes widen in surprise, but she follows my lead, taking a shaky breath in through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. No flames this time.
