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He looked over her shoulder and drew a heart on her paper with a green crayon.
“Flora knows lots,” Ariel told him, looking proudly at her cousin.
“I like flowers,” Flora said nonchalantly.
“Well, that’s good,” Titus teased, elbowing his niece. “Since your name is Flora.”
“Mama likes them, too,” she replied, grinning.
“That makes sense,” he said seriously.
“Help me,” Diana ordered, moving Titus’s hand still holding the crayon. “Color.”
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he replied, drawing another heart.
“Anyone hungry?” I asked, my throat tight with emotion.
“I had yogurt,” Ariel replied, not looking up from her page.
“I am!” Flora scrambled up from her spot.
“Me,” Diana said, climbing off Titus. She must have kneed him or something because his breath left him in a whoosh.
“Uncle Titus are you hungry?” Flora asked as she hurried around the coffee table.
“I’m alright, Flower,” he replied. “Thanks though.”
I picked up Diana as she reached me and watched Ariel for a moment. “You sure you don’t want something else to eat?”
“No, thank you.”
“Okay.” I turned to leave the room just as Titus murmured to Ariel.
“You have really good manners.”
“Does that mean I’m kind?” Ariel asked. “Because I am. Mostly. My mom is always kind. Even when Diana is screaming her head off.”
“Manners are when you say please and thank you,” Titus replied, his voice laced amusement. “I guess it’s kinda like being kind.”
“Oh, yeah,” Ariel said nonchalantly. “My mom says you always gotta say please and thank you.”
It was strange having Titus in the house as we went about our day. He played in the living room with the girls for most of the morning. By the time I corralled Diana for her afternoon nap, the older girls had somehow convinced him to take them outside during their quiet time. Esther met my eyes, making sure I was fine with it, before agreeing that they could go outside with Uncle Titus instead of playing quietly in Flora’s room while Diana napped. The only condition was that they had to get the eggs out of the elaborate chicken coop in Otto and Esther’s back yard.
“I hate chickens,” Titus griped quietly to Esther as he followed the girls outside.
“Suck it up,” she whispered back with a quiet laugh.
“You owe me.”
“Have fun,” she sang.
“I could’ve gotten the eggs,” I said as Esther followed me and Diana up the stairs.
“The girls will do most of the work anyway,” she said with a snicker. “He’ll send them inside and stand safely out of range.”
It only took a little while to get Diana to sleep, even though we could hear the girls playing in the back yard. Walking to the window, I pulled back the curtain and looked out.
Titus was standing next to the chicken coop with his fingers laced through the fence, and Esther had been right, he’d sent the little girls inside to get the fresh eggs. He was watching them closely and giving them directions while Flora laughed at him. She held a chicken out in front of her and acted like she was going to carry it toward his spot at the fence. I was pretty sure I heard his yelp as he dropped his hands and quickly backed up.
Meanwhile, Ariel was ignoring them as she checked the nesting boxes, a dirty egg in her hand already. I grimaced as she pulled out her shirt and made a little pocket for the eggs, dropping one in before reaching for another. I needed to remember to change it when she came inside to clean her hands.
Titus was saying something to Ariel and pointing to a corner of the coop.
Nodding, she walked over to where he’d pointed and excitedly picked up another egg. She turned to look at him, her face pinched in a confused scowl. Whatever he said to her had her expression smoothing as she nodded again.
I watched them for a long time. Flora focused on petting the chickens, cuddling them against her chest and kissing the tops of their heads, while Ariel explored the coop on an egg treasure hunt. Titus called out encouragement, staying a foot away from the fencing at all times. When they finally moved like they were going to come inside, I hurried away from the window. After grabbing Ariel a new shirt and checking to make sure Diana was still sleeping soundly, I headed back downstairs.
For my entire life, I’d been able to put the people in my life into neat little imaginary boxes. My parents had a box. Siblings had a box. Husband had a box. In-laws had a box. Friends from Bible study had a box. The women and men from church each had a separate box. Even Otto had his own box as Esther’s husband. The only people I’d ever met that didn’t have their own little filing place in my brain were my girls. They would’ve overflowed any box I’d tried to put them in. They were everything, uncontainable.
