Page 18 of Holiday Grief

“You're here,” Claire squealed, zooming in for a hug.

“Just in time, sorry about that, traffic,” she said to the sitter as she returned Claire’s hug.

“No problem,” the woman assured her. “Normally I could stay later, but my granddaughter’s recital is tonight.”

“That sounds like fun. Do I need to pay you or has Adam already done that?” she asked. She hadn't thought to check and make sure the woman had been paid for her hours and had no idea of the arrangement Adam had with her for that.

“All good. He transfers the money into my account on the weeks I work looking after this cutie.” The sitter tweaked one of Claire’s pigtails, making the girl giggle.

“Enjoy the recital,” Jasmine told the woman as she picked up her purse and headed out to her car.

“I want smashed potatoes and your chicken for dinner,” Claire announced, grabbing her hand and dragging her inside.

“I think we can manage that.”

“Can I help?” Claire bounced up and down with all the enthusiasm of a five-year-old.

“Course you can. I always like having my best helper around.”

“I wish you could have dinner with me every day,” Claire said, skipping on ahead to the kitchen.

The little girl didn't see it since Jasmine was behind her, but she froze at the child’s casual statement.

Dinner with Claire and Adam every day?

In some ways it was a dream come true, in others it was her worst nightmare.

If there was one thing she knew for sure it was that she did not deserve to be a mother. She’d been there once before and had failed her baby in the worst possible way.

If she had failed her own tiny baby girl, how could she not believe she would also fail Adam’s sweet little girl?

“Jassy, come on,” Claire said, snapping her out of her head.

“Sorry, sweetie,” she said, pasting on a smile. So far she’d done okay with Claire, and she hadn't wanted to fail her daughter. It had been taken out of her hands. And while she would always lay part of the blame squarely on her own shoulders, logically, Jasmine knew it hadn't really been her fault.

As she collected potatoes from the pantry and checked to make sure there was chicken before she got started, Claire buzzed about getting in the way, how only a small child who wanted to help could. There was chicken in the fridge, so she didn't have to pop out to get some, and she already knew there would be breadcrumbs and spices because she’d made this meal for Adam and Claire before and it had become a favorite with the both of them.

“Jassy!” Claire suddenly said, her tone gone from excited to worried.

“What’s wrong?”

“Iggle Wiggle.”

“What about him?” She’d known the child long enough to know that Iggle Wiggle was a stuffed giraffe that Claire had been given at birth. It was her comfort item, and she rarely went anywhere without it.

“I don’t know where he is.” Claire looked stricken like not only did she not know where her beloved giraffe was, but it had just occurred to her that she hadn't even realized he wasn’t with her.

“It’s okay, sweetie. Come here.” Lifting the little girl up, she set her on the counter and stood in front of her, the child’s hands in hers. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“I can't ‘member.”

“Did you play with him when you got home from school?”

“No, I was too busy playin’ puzzles with Mrs. Owens.”

“Well, I bet you had him in bed last night, right?”

Claire’s brown eyes lit up. “I sleeped in Daddy’s bed last night ‘cause the monster in my closet was being real loud.”

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