Page 27 of SEAL'S Baby Surprise
He’s really amazing like that.
Julia and I get first dibs on the bathroom, and I show her how to smooth on a little olive oil as a moisturizer. I don’t have any of my usual skin creams, lotions, or special soap.
I hope I don’t get a bad sunburn or develop a supreme case of acne. I’m not sure where I would get the stuff I’d need if I do because I always ordered online.
Julia is happy with dabbing on the oil with a cotton ball and looks super cute because it brings out her freckles and shows off her healthy surfer tan. She’s blond, like her father, but so cute she’s just like a little doll.
I brush out her pretty hair and put it in loose braids for sleeping. She goes out to her father for her bedtime story.
I take care of my own face, and the skin on my head. Austin, who has had plenty of experience with new haircuts this short, warned me that I need to use lotion or whatever on my head to avoid sunburn — just like my face skin.
The super short hair isn’t even long enough to style, so I rub some olive oil into it, and add a head wrap out of the assortment of gear Austin and Julia had brought back in their bags.
The wrap is a soft blue that brings out the color in my eyes. I pull on a nice, clean big t-shirt with the words “Freedom Beach” stenciled across its front. It is a darker blue and fits me like a dress.
For the first time since shedding the awful wedding dress, I feel almost pretty. I slip my feet in the flip-flops Austin had bought for me and go out where Austin is telling “Goldilocks and the Three Bears” to Julia — complete with growls, snarls, and shrieks.
Just as he finishes up, the twins come running over. “Dad’s gone out on the road,” Bobby says.
“Mom says we can have a sleepover if you wanna come,” Betty adds.
“Can I, Daddy?” Julia begs. “We watched TV and had popcorn last time.”
“Promise to mind?” Austin asks.
“Every good thing their mama says,” Julia answers. “She says good things, mostly.”
Austin laughs. “I know she does. Go enjoy being with your friends. I’ll manage to rough it with Lee. Do you want Ark?”
Julia shakes her head. “He’s big and he gets hairs on their couch. They’ve got Squeegee. She should be enough.”
“Who’s Squeegee?” I ask.
“The Turners’ standard poodle pup. Right now, she has a squeaky little bark, but I suspect it will deepen when she gets older. It’s something we’ll have to think about later, since Ark is a registered breeder.”
I think about that for a moment, then realize that dogs don’t come with birth control. That’s why the Humane Society was always holding those spay and neuter workshops. I’d even helped with a couple of fundraisers for them.
“She’s a baby now?” I ask. “Could we see her?”
“Sure,” Betty says. “She’s so cute! I bet she and Ark would make super loverly puppies.”
“They probably would,” Austin says, clearly amused by Betty’s enthusiasm. “But we’d probably better take that up with your mom and dad before Squeegee is old enough to think about being a mommy. Babies are serious business, not to be started lightly.” With that comment, he tugs on one of Julia’s braids.
“They don’t wash in on the tide?” Bobby asks.
“Not usually,” Austin nearly laughs at this. “But none of you need to think about that now. We can walk over and see Squeegee.”
I can see that it makes him feel better by offering to walk the kids back. It turns out that Betty and Bobby live in one of the TinyHouses rowed up at the beginning of the residential area. It has soft gray panels that look like old barn wood on the outside.
Austin tells Ark, “Sit, Stay.” The big dog sits and stays. When we step in, I can see why. It is super cute, a miniature little house.
But everything is close together. It is a two-story, with a sleeping loft for the kids, and a big bed for mom and dad downstairs.
“I get to sleep on the couch!” Julia announces importantly. “It folds out, so I have to get up super early and help Mrs. Turner make breakfast.” Mrs. Turner, an African American woman, with medium brown skin and her hair done naturally in a halo of soft curls laughs a little at that. “I wouldn’t make her do it, but the couch has to fold up before I can get to the kitchen. She’s a good helper.”
My mouth opens, and words are out before I stop to think. “Does Mr. Turner disapprove of sleep overs?”
Mrs. Turner laughs a little and smiles the sweetest smile I think I’ve ever seen. A dimple plays peekaboo in one cheek, and the corners of her brown eyes crinkle up.
