Page 86 of Catch a Kiwi
“OK,” he said. “Go.”
She took a deep breath, smoothed out the skirt of her dress, looked at her feet, which were clad in black patent-leather Mary Janes over ruffled white socks, and said, “I would like to learn about flowers, please.”
Confusion on the chiseled face now. “About flowers? Maybe your mum would be better for that. She loves flowers.”
“No,” Maia said. “Flowers on dresses. For designing.”
“Uh …” Hemi said, and Maia shot an imploring look at me.
I said, “Maybe you should show your dad your drawing.”
She said, “But it’s not good enough.” Another look at her dad, full of longing. Needing to hear him say,You’re good enough, and I love you.
“Show him anyway,” I said. “If you have a dream, it’s important to be brave. You never feel like you’re good enough at the things you most want to do, but you can’t get better without working hard. And sometimes you need help to show you how to do that work. Your dad loves you, right?”
“He does,” Hemi said. “So tell me how I can help.” Which was when Maia took a deep breath, handed over her sketchbook, then stuck her hands between her legs, hunched forward, and squeezed her green eyes shut.
A long moment while Hemi paged through the book. I’d thought the drawings were pretty good. Pretty creative, too, but I’d majored in math and computer science, so what did I know? I was probably holding my breath as much as Maia until he said, “You’re designing.”
Maia didn’t speak, just nodded hard, her dark curls bobbing, still with her eyes squeezed shut and her hands between her knees.
Hemi pried loose one of her hands and held it, and she opened her eyes. Looked at him, her chin trembling, and said, “I don’t really know how. I keep trying, but my drawings don’t come out quite right. Summer said that maybe for my birthday, I could ask you to take me to a garden full of flowers and tell me how you make flowers work on dresses. Maybe we could have a …” Her voice was a whisper again. “A special time?”
Hemi’s arm was around her now. “We can have a special time,” he promised. “And from now on, you’ll show me your drawings, eh.”
“Will you help me make them better?” the girl asked. “Not just say they’re pretty?”
“I will,” he said. “And we don’t have to wait for your birthday. Maybe I need to do this dad thing a bit differently now that you’re all older. Maybe have some special time with each of you. There are four weeks in a month, and I have four kids. What do you think about spending a couple of hours on Sunday afternoon with me every month, looking at flowers and talking about drawing and designing? Going into the office with me and looking at fabrics, too.”
“Really?” It was barely a breath. “Sunday’s our special family day, though.”
“It is,” Hemi said. “And special family days are for special people.”
“Can you show me how to design a beautiful dress with flowers like Summer’s?” she asked.
“I can. That dress is cotton and silk.” He glanced at me, and I nodded. “If you ask her,” he said, “you can probably feel the fabric for yourself. And ifIask her, I can probably take a photo of the dress, and we can look up what kind of flowers those are.”
“Can I?” she asked me.
“Yes,” I said. “Of course.”
Her hand, then, touching the hem of the dress, rubbing it carefully between her fingers. “It’s so soft.”
“It is,” I said. “That makes it feel good on my skin. And cotton and silk breathe in hot weather, so they’re more comfortable. At least I think that’s true,” I said to Hemi. “Is it?”
“Yes,” he said, and there was so much warmth in his eyes. “You have good taste.”
“Roman paid for it.” I felt a little shy myself, saying it. “I’m not comfortable taking this much from a man anymore, but he thought that if I looked better, it would help me come with him today. I don’t have any money anymore, and I didn’t have any other way of dressing right for this.” I kept my chin up while I said it. “Coming here with him was a favor, so I took his money this time.”
“Nothing wrong with being skint,” Hemi said. “I grew up skint myself.”
“So did I. And however it looks?—”
“You’re not a gold-digger.” He looked up, past the old man in his chair, to the arched doorway between kitchen and lounge, and I realized with a start that Roman was there, leaning against the jamb, his hands in his pockets. “No worries, mate,” Hemi told him. “I’m clear on that.”
“Good,” Roman said, straightening up. “Because Summer’s a pretty awesome person.”
“I may be heaps of things,” Hemi said, still with that suggestion of humor around his eyes. “But I’m not stupid, and I’m not blind. And I know something about that kind of courage. The kind that keeps walking on when it’s hardest, when there’s no reward in sight. Even when she’s carrying somebody else, and that weight’s too heavy. The kind that won’t let her stop caring. I know about it, and I value it.” Now, he did smile. “Another thing we have in common.”
