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I’m too tired to battle the voice inside my head back right now. It’s not even my place, it’s his. If he wanted to, he could come in at any time. I’d bet my very broken camper that he has a spare key to the place.
If he wanted to hack me and Audra into little pieces to bury out on his property, he would have done it already.
This place sure is secluded enough he’d probably get away with it too.
“What in the world is going through your head right now?” Harlan asks.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“You just had some pretty interesting expressions going on.” He smiles at me.
I shake my head and step back from the door, holding it open for him. “You don’t want to know.”
After clicking on a light, I wave awkwardly at the couch. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.” I step back into the bedroom and grab Audra’s mesh fruit holder from her bag.
Once I’m back into the living room — where Harlan is sitting on the couch, his head nearly touching the ceiling — I’m trying to juggle the ice bag, my daughter and fruit holder when Harlan reaches over. “Here, let me hold her for you.” Before I can give him the ice bag and hang on to my daughter, she leaves my arms.
The sudden change in person has her low whining cry stuttering to a stop as she takes up the bearded man holding her. The silence is loud in the now quiet of the living room.
Harlan stares at her with wonder in his eyes. “She’s so small.”
I snort. Opening the hatch-like lid of the fruit holder, I place an ice cube in the mesh before clicking it closed again. “She’s not so small when you’re carting her around all day.”
Audra is laying on his knees, her little body nestled into the groove his thighs create. His fingers lightly trace her tummy, and she gives him a gummy smile — and I soften.
Harlan smiles down at her and says, “Your mouth hurts, huh?” He makes overly exaggerated facial expressions for her benefit.
A kernel of affection for the man starts to bloom in the pit of my stomach. Here he is interrupting his own sleep to make sure me and my daughter are comfortable, and I can’t help the stab of pain at knowing this is how it should have been for us. She should have a daddy who loves her, who’ll sit up with her at night. Who’ll forgo sleep to ensure she’s comfortable.
Shaking myself out of thoughts that can never be, I offer, “I can take her back.” The sooner we get her comfortable, the sooner she’ll go back to sleep.
“Let me?” he asks quietly, without taking his eyes off her.
“Oh. Uh. Sure.” I hand him the mesh pocket and Audra recognizes it before trying to grab it from his hand.
“The little blue bag part can go into her mouth.” Harlan holds it for her, and both of her hands wrap around his while she tries to attack the bag. I swear I see my daughter swoon in relief from the cool ice against her inflamed gums.
“Holy shit. She’s got a good grip.”
Considering that grip has yanked more than a few strands of hair from my head, I can’t help but agree. “Yeah, she does.”
“What is this thing?” He nods to the holder.
“It’s for introducing solids. Cut up fruits or veggies go inside and lets her gnaw on it while she’s learning to chew. She loves it.”
“I bet.” His cheeks stretch into a grin, and I ignore the jump in my belly at the sight. “You probably love your fruit, don’t you?” he coos to her.
“Why are you doing this?” I blurt.
Harlan’s head lifts, his gaze finding mine. “What do you mean?”
I wave at him. “You didn’t have to come over here or bring her ice. You didn’t have to hold her. You could have just went to bed and ignored us. Beyond that, you didn’t have to send your brothers to the hospital so that someone was with Audra — the nurses would have looked after her. You didn’t have to offer me this apartment. None of this — my mess — was your responsibility.”
Harlan’s quiet for a beat before his serious tone whispers across the night. “Maisie. Kindness doesn’t need a reason. What does it cost me for coming over to check on you when I could hear Audra all the way from my room? Or offering up this empty apartment when you didn’t have anywhere to go or a way to get there, even if you did? It’s just me — and my family — helping out while you’re in a tight spot.”
That kernel of affection sitting below my belly button blooms a little brighter. He’s telling the truth. Being a good judge of character in snap situations has taught me to read other people, a skill born out of survival and desperation not to disturb the peace — or get a fist to the face in punishment.
We lapse into a comfortable silence where I watch him tend to my daughter in a way that Sean never would have done.
