Page 18 of Single Mom's Mountain Men
I get out of bed and go to wash my face. Then I stand there, staring at my reflection. I don't know how long I do thisfor but it’s nearly daybreak by the time I get my breathing under control.
Good. Time for work.
I wash my face again. and brush my teeth before I step out of my room walking out to the kitchen.
I turn on the coffee maker, set it to brew a pot and take care of the dishes from last night's take-out.
Then after pouring my cup of coffee, I turn around to head to work.
I freeze.
There's a little girl in the back doorway.
She's tiny, with brown hair and eyes, blinking at me.
"Sorry," she says, folding her hands in front of her. "I didn't mean to startle you."
I'm guessing this is one of Patty's daughters. They have a similar accent, not quite Midwestern but not Northern either.
The little girl stands there, biting her lips and looking concerned.
Why? Because she thought she startled me?
I shake my head trying not to smile at her prim and proper manners. "No worries. What did you need?"
She lowers her gaze and scuffs her toes. "My mom is sleepy and I was kinda hungry... I thought if it's okay...."
I start toward her and she takes a step back, apparently started. But I just pick her up and drop her on one of the dining stools.
"You like cereal? I ask.
She hesitates for a second and then nods.
I open the pantry door and retrieve the cereal box, then open the drawer above the stove to get a bowl. I glance in the fridge, taking out a box of milk.
“What’s your name?” I ask her.
“Katie,” she responds quietly.
“How old are you?”
“Six.”
Six. She’s small for her age. And way too young to have that watchful look in her eye as I move around the kitchen, retrieving the ingredients to pour her a bowl of Cocoa Krispies.
When I approach her with the bowl of chocolate balls swimming in the milk, she rears back again, a move that worries me.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Katie,” I tell her, meeting her gaze head-on. “Ever.”
She holds my gaze, then swallows and nods. Then she takes a spoonful of cereal into her mouth.
“Good?” I ask.
She nods. “Thank you.”
I return to the counter and pick up my mug of coffee, taking another sip and watching her as she eats.
“Are you okay, Mister?” she asks in her quiet voice.
