Page 156 of That Rush

“I bet she could.”

I separate the section again and try to follow the woman on the screen. My fingers can repair fencing in freezing rain and handle an agitated horse without getting kicked. A six-year-old’s hair has defeated me twice this week.

A knock sounds at the back door.

“Paige!” Josie twists in the chair, taking half the braid with her.

“Hold still.”

“You said we only have eight minutes.”

“We had eight minutes before you moved.”

I release her hair and open the door. Paige stands on the porch in a green dress with a canvas tote over one shoulder.

“You’re early,” I say.

“By eleven minutes.” She looks past me toward Josie. “You appear to need them.”

“I need another hand.”

“You have two.”

“Neither is cooperating.”

Paige walks inside and sets her tote beside the door. Her gaze moves over the hairbrush, pink elastics, open tutorial, and the uneven sections spread across my fingers.

“How attached are you to this design?” she asks Josie.

“It’s supposed to be two braids that turn into one. Daddy keeps making one fat and one skinny.”

“I can hear you,” I remind her.

“I’m helping Paige understand.”

Paige presses her lips together. “A very clear briefing.”

I lower my voice as she moves closer. “Can you fix it?”

“I can try.” She looks at Josie instead of reaching for the brush. “Do you want me to?”

Josie nods. “You know about braids because you have long hair.”

“Excellent logic.”

I surrender my place behind the chair. Paige removes the elastic without pulling and carefully separates the tangled pieces with her fingers. She doesn’t rush to prove she knows better than I do. She studies the tutorial, asks Josie where she wants the braid to start, then begins again.

I lean against the counter and watch her hands.

She works slowly, crossing one section over another while Josie sits unusually still.

“Like this?” Paige asks.

Josie studies their reflection. “Mommy did it tighter.”

Paige adjusts her grip. “How about now?”

“No. She started it differently.”