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“Fabulous,” Charles yodels. “And everything here is fabulous too. I promise you don’t have a single thing to worry about for your first session with the children.” He jiggles a second squawking baby on his hip while trying to herd his toddler, and I step forward.
“Can I help?”
They both turn, and who the fuck knows what I look like with my arms open like this or with my jaw dropping, but Charles just says, “Perfect timing,” and passes me that second baby while I can’t take my eyes off…
“You shaved.”
I won’t have to guess about Hayden’s jawline the next time I draw him. It’s right there, each sharp angle uncovered, until Hayden ducks his head, lifting it again as soon as I tell him, “Looks good.” He was the one with the shakes. Now I’m the twat who stutters. “I-I mean, you looked good anyway?—”
“After you tidied me up? I didn’t recognise myself after you did that.” He shrugs. “Looked like myself. Or closer to myself, at least.” I think this is meant to sound like a joke. “Felt like I could handle seeing even more of myself in the mirror.” He says something else that I can hardly hear over wailing—not from the baby he holds, but from my own unhappy, wriggling armful. I have to come closer to hear him repeat, “You’re out of breath, Rae. You okay?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Just wanted to catch up with you.”
The baby wails as if that’s the worst news ever. Hayden doesn’t. Here’s a repeat of the tired smile on my phone, only in real life?
He’s gorgeous.
He also says, “Pass her here so you can tell me.”
Perhaps I shouldn’t after seeing him fumble with that hammer, but he told me once that those tremors don’t last, and here’s proof—he holds out a steady hand and both babies coo once he smiles down at them.
I know the feeling. I’d coo as well if I had all of his attention focussed on me.
Charles has a different reaction. “Alleluia,” he yodels again from across the clearing. “Please, for the love of mud, share your baby-taming secret.”
“Years of practice,” Hayden murmurs. He meets my gaze, and it’s cool here where trees shade us from lowering sunlight. I still heat at this second slow smile, but that’s only fair. I’ve got a photo on my phone that Luke sent me, which I feel a correspondingly intense need to show him.
I also want to kiss him, which explains why I don’t notice that Charles has come closer until he asks, “Seriously, how did you do that, Hayden?”
“Stop them both from crying? I had plenty of practice with three sisters. Triplets,” Hayden says while the last of theafternoon’s sunbeams find him. He’s dappled with green and gold light, and so are these twins who he one-ups by admitting, “Or triplet half sisters, I suppose.” He bounces slightly and that cooing continues. “I never think of them as that.”
This quick look my way holds a hint of something. Not bruising exactly. It’s something else I don’t have a word for that deepens as he tells me, “I can’t have been much older than these cuties when we lost my mother. Dad met my stepmum a few years later, and then we were a team of three for what felt like my whole life until the IVF worked. Final round. They were about to give up. Went all out, and—” He repeats a word I’ve thought recently too. “Boom. There they were.”
“Triplets,” Charles breathes with what could be awe or horror.
“Triplets,” Hayden confirms. “The only time they were quiet was when all three of us were there to rock them. I had to learn to rock two at a time pretty quickly after Dad?—”
That smile slips.
Hayden doesn’t.
He’s rock solid, even if his next smile is smaller. “I didn’t mind doing double duty. They grew out of this stage fast.” He flashes a quick glance my way. “Now they’re almost teens, getting piled on by them for a cuddle feels like getting tackled by a whole team.”
“I bet it does.” Charles cuddles his own wriggling armful before setting his son down, who instantly legs it. Charles watches before saying, “Look what he headed straight for. He loves that you’ve left tools out here.”
Tools?
That seems like an accident waiting to happen, only Adam stops by a tree stump that Hayden must have hollowed out and that now holds a collection of sticks.
“For mark making.” Charles follows his son, grabs a stick of his own, and makes marks in a sandpit that wasn’t here on my last visit. “Of course, you’ll know how important that is. Getting to leave your mark, I mean. Communicating? Especially for children who can’t write yet? Practice doesn’t always make perfect, but it does mark progress, and I love to see it.” He repeats what I thought on the way here. “Honestly, Hayden. You won’t have to sell staying on full time to Luke. I’ve been talking about us having more outdoor learning for ages. It’s top-tier for unlocking potential, and you’ve included everything that I would have.”
Hayden can’t hide a flush under a beard now. I like seeing him this pink with pleasure. “Thanks.” He huffs out a huge breath. “And thanks for mentoring me. I seriously don’t know how you’ll find the time.”
“Oh.” Charles stops sketching in the sand. “I won’t. Find the time, I mean. Not while I have the twins. But I’ve found the perfect person for you.”
“Who?” Hayden asks, still swaying gently, and maybe he says something else to Charles. I’m deaf to conversation while picturing him on paper, only I’d draw him with his feet rooted in this woodland, the breeze adding to that oh-so gentle rocking motion. In my mind’s eye, his arms are thick branches that support a trio of wide-eyed babies.
That vision clears as soon as Hayden goes still, and I tune into Charles saying, “Yes, Mitch. From the Haven. You know, the care home on the other side of the woods? The other teachers will help when he isn’t available, but he’s who I’d choose for you any day of the week.” He points in the opposite direction to the school. “He’s already run plenty of nature sessions here for years, only for adults, but play is play, and he’s so fabulous at it. We could pop in and see him now, if you like?” he asks brightly, seemingly unaware of what I can’t ignore now I’ve seen it.
