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She smiled. “You want to know my name, don’t you? I’m Erica. Erica,” she repeated more slowly.
“Rika!”
“Close enough.”
Summer ran into the kitchen from the near entrance, while Allison appeared at the far end. She had stains on her too-small T-shirt and dark circles under her eyes. No doubt it had been a hell of a day. She’d been forced out of her home, her husband was in jail and the entirety of her possessions were in some strange woman’s garage.
“I’ve got this,” Erica told her, enjoying the happy feel of a toddler in her arms.
Allison blinked at her. “I’m sorry. I’m really tired, so I don’t understand.”
“I’ve got this. I’ll get him settled. You get ready for bed, so when he’s asleep, all you have to do is close your eyes.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I’m actually very good with small children.”
Allison looked away. “I didn’t mean that.” She looked back at Erica. “We’re your guests here and that would be an imposition.”
“You’re not my guest,” Erica said bluntly, careful to keep her voice calm and soothing. She could already feel Jackson relaxing as she held him. “You live here now and you’re going to be living here for the next few months. This is your home.”
She paused. “We should probably meet and come up with ground rules we’re both comfortable with. Discuss expectations and that sort of thing. Let’s plan to do that tomorrow.”
Allison nodded wearily. “Sure.”
Erica turned to her daughter. “Where are his books? Are they unpacked?”
“They’re in the bookcase in my room.” Summer grinned. “Next to my precalc textbook.”
Erica carried Jackson upstairs. Allison and Summer followed. When they reached the landing, Erica pointed to Allison’s bedroom.
“I was serious. I’ll get him settled for the night. You go do your thing.”
“I can—”
Erica cut Allison off with a stern look. Allison flinched, nodded, then retreated to her bedroom. Erica carried Jackson into the room he would share with Summer for the next few nights. His crib was in place and ready for him. She ignored that and instead sat on her daughter’s bed.
Once she’d scooted them both up toward the headboard, she used pillows to prop herself up, then got Jackson comfortable reclining on her. Summer sat at the foot of the bed and handed her a book.
Erica opened it one-handed and showed him the picture. “That is a very handsome aardvark.”
“Happy,” Jackson said, pointing at the drawing. But his voice was low and the gesture half-hearted.
“That’s what it says right here. ‘Clybourne was a very happy aardvark. He was happy in his house. He was happy with his job. He was happy when he put on his favorite top hat and went to brunch with his friends.’”
She kissed the top of Jackson’s head. “I think it would be very fun to have brunch with an aardvark, although I’m a little concerned about the lack of table manners. We’d probably want to have it in the backyard, just in case.”
Jackson didn’t respond. Instead his breathing slowed and he slumped down a little.
Summer started to get up, but Erica shook her head. “Let’s give it about five minutes,” she said, making sure she spoke in her storybook voice. “I want him completely out before we move him or we’ll have to start over.”
She continued to read, turning pages until she was sure the toddler was deeply asleep, then she nodded at Summer, who carefully got up and took the child from her. When he was in his crib, they quietly slipped out of the room.
Erica looked at her daughter. “How are you going to manage this? Having him in your room. You’re a little bit trapped.”
“He’ll get into his own room in a few days.” Her daughter smiled. “You’re forgetting, Mom. Every time I spent the night at Dad’s place, I’ve shared a room with Jackson. I know how to do this.”
Right, because she hadn’t had her own room. Something that didn’t seem to bother her at all.
