Sunday Stories

Slow and Steady Wins

 

“I won’t!” Zoe stamped her foot, her ponytail bouncing. “I won’t and you can’t make me!”

Noah cast a glance at Sam over his shoulder and took a slow breath. “I’m not going to make you, baby girl. I thought you might like to go out to eat today.”

“Not with him.” Zoe pointed a small finger at Sam as if she was identifying a murderer in a courtroom.

“His name’s Sam. You know that.”

She greeted that inanity with a heaved sigh and flounced onto the couch.

“Well, we’ll order in, then. Eat dinner here.”

“Nu-uh.” Zoe hid her face in her hands. “I’m not looking until he’s gone. Tell him to go away, Uncle Noah.”

Noah had been afraid finally introducing Sam to Zoe as his boyfriend wouldn’t go well— she was insecure and jealous of his time and attention— but he hadn’t imagined this kind of tantrum. He knelt in front of his little girl and cradled her between his hands. “Listen to me, honey. Sam’s just visiting. He wanted to get to know you better and I wanted you to spend time with him. We’ll eat a nice dinner, then he’ll go, and the rest of your bedtime will be just like usual.” Unfortunately. Visions of an evening’s make-out session behind a closed door melted away.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“He’s a bad man.”

“Sam’s the best man I know.” Noah looked back again. Sam stood just inside the living room, watching them. He’d have had the right to be angry or frustrated, but he just looked worried. He gave Noah a soft smile when their eyes met. Noah turned back to Zoe. “You can handle half an hour being polite over dinner.”

“I don’t want dinner.” She wrenched free of his hands and ran out of the room.

Noah stayed on his knees, letting his head hang down. I’d call that a failure.

Quiet footsteps crossed the room behind him and Sam’s strong fingers dug into his shoulders. “Hey, you okay?”

Noah rubbed his face. “Yeah, I guess.”

“What now? Should I leave? Regroup and try again another day?”

Parenting sucked, because there was no manual. You couldn’t look up “What to do if…” Well, you could, but the answers would be contradictory and mostly wouldn’t apply to the precise situation. He’d flown helicopters by the seat of his pants in a crisis, but parenting was far more complicated. “No,” he told Sam. “Don’t go.”

“She’s traumatized, though. With her mom dying in pregnancy with the baby, and then your brother…“

“Yeah. Yeah she is.” Noah’s older brother had finally started dating again two years after losing his wife, and then some drunk idiot in a pickup in a restaurant parking lot— Noah clenched his teeth. “But that doesn’t mean she always gets her way. Maybe planning to go out to eat was too much of a push.” He’d thought it would be easier than having Sam here in Zoe’s space, but obviously not. “She can sit at our table with you and eat a simple meal.”

Sam’s fingers dug skillfully into the tight muscles at the base of Noah’s neck and he held back a groan. Sam stroked a finger under Noah’s ear. “I’m following your lead.”

“Wish to hell I knew where I was leading.”

“You have good instincts.”

I used to. “I’m so sorry about this.”

“I told you. Whatever it takes, however long it takes, I’m here for you.”

Yeah, you did. Noah and Sam had been five dates into a new relationship when Noah had been shaken, grief-stricken, and landed with a shocked six-year-old. When he told Sam he had to put on the brakes and focus on his niece, Sam had said, “I think we‘re building something special, so you take the time you need, and do what seems right. I’ll be here if you want a shoulder to lean on, and I hope we can take up where we left off when your life settles down.”

Three months of bed-wetting and night-terrors and tantrums and acting out had taken up every moment of Noah’s time. When Sam called to “see how you’re doing” Noah had been sleep-deprived and shaken enough to unload on him.

Noah counted it the luckiest thing in his life that Sam, instead of saying, “Wow, have a nice life,” had said, “How can I help?”

A simple meeting for coffee while Zoe was with her therapist, with Sam’s dark eyes meeting Noah’s and Sam’s hands warm on his, had given him a new lease on life. Except they hadn’t managed to move forward. Zoe still clung to him with determination a limpet would envy, and the first time he proposed a babysitter so he could go out one evening, she’d screamed herself so hoarse she couldn’t comfortably talk for two days.

If he hadn’t worked from home, he’d have been screwed. Zoe went to school now, but he had to walk her to the classroom door and pick her up right on the dot. The one time he’d been caught in traffic, he’d been called in by the teacher to coax his limp sobbing wreck of a child out from under the finger-painting table. Evenings were the worst. He could only take out the trash if she came along, her small fingers clenching his T-shirt hem.

He met with Sam for lunches during school hours, sometimes desperate enough to rent a motel room near Sam’s job so “lunch” could include fifteen minutes in bed. On the therapist’s advice, he’d started bringing Zoe out to “casually” meet Sam on weekend runs to the grocery store, or at the park. But Zoe had decided Sam was a threat, and his very appearance turned her into a pouting ball of angst.

How long can Sam possibly be patient? Eight months into a relationship with no date nights, no sleepovers, sex once a week if they were lucky, and a kid who screamed if they got too cozy? What sane man would keep coming back for more of that?

Sam gave Noah’s shoulder one last rub and sat on the couch, nudging his elbow with one knee. “Pizza? Chinese? What would win me brownie points with your kid?”

Noah snorted. “Cake, probably. Pizza’s fine.”

“I’ll call it in. You go talk to her.”

I don’t wanna. I want to sit here on the couch and make out with you. Noah heaved himself to his feet and, after a glance toward the bedrooms, bent and allowed himself a fast kiss on Sam’s plush lips. “Thanks. My wallet’s in the bowl on the counter.”

“I think I can spring for pizza.” Sam made a shooing motion. “Go.”

Noah went.

Zoe’s room was dim with only the ballerina nightlight casting a glow. She lay flung across the bed, her stuffed pony clutched to her face.

He sat carefully beside her, the bed creaking under him. Where to start? Tell her that was rude? Offer her pizza? He decided he couldn’t do better than Sam’s words. “How can I help?”

“Make him go away.”

Well, so much for a loving reconciliation. “Sorry, baby, not happening. You had your friend Jada over last week, and I have my friend Sam over this week.”

“I hate him.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Because, because, because!”

“Because he’s better looking than I am? Ugh. I hate that too.”

Zoe pouted. “You’re not funny, Uncle Noah.”

“Because he disembowels teddy bears?”

That got her to turn and look at him. “What’s dis-dem–bowel?”

Saying “rips their guts out” probably not wise. “Gives them diarrhea.”

“How?”

“By feeding them too much candy and hot dogs.”

“Hot dogs make my tummy bad.”

“I know that.” Boy, do I know that.

“Candy doesn’t. I like candy.”

I know that too. “Maybe we can have some after dinner.”

She brightened momentarily, then scowled. “Don’t want dinner if he’s there.”

“Why not?”

He didn’t expect and answer, but she hid her face in her pony’s plush fur and muttered something.

“Hm?”

“You like him.” She didn’t look up.

“And you like Jada.”

“You want me to go away so you can go out with Sam.”

Noah reared back, blinking. “What on earth gave you that idea? I don’t ever want you to go away.”

“I told Isaiah at school how my daddy went on a date and he didn’t come back and he said his daddy did the same thing. He said daddies don’t stick around and it’s worse if you’re not really their kid.”

“Baby, your daddy died. He didn’t leave you on purpose.” Fuckin’ Isaiah, whoever the kid is. Although that sounded like bitter experience for a six-year-old. “I’m not leaving you.”

“You might. If you like Sam better.”

“No, honey, I swear. I want Sam to come here, not to leave you.”

She turned her head again to open one suspicious brown eye. “You wanted a babysitter to go with Sam.”

“It was an idea. You didn’t like it so I won’t do that.” For now, anyway. He still had vivid memories of Sam’s king-sized bed that he wanted to revisit someday. “Sam’s just here for dinner.”

She shook her head against the comforter.

Noah held out his arms. “You look like you need a hug.”

“Me and Sparkles do.” Zoe bounced up into his lap.

Noah wrapped her in his hold, resting his chin on the puff of her ponytail, and rocked her. He could hear her breathing shake and then steady. He murmured, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” He could recite that mantra in his sleep. Zoe cuddled in against him, the pony clutched in one hand between their chests.

After a while, Noah heard the doorbell ring. Sam’ll get it. Then I’ll have to convince Zoe to go out to the table. He didn’t fool himself that her current soft snuggling meant she’d given up resistance.

A tap on the bedroom door had Zoe sitting bolt upright. Before either of them could say anything, the door opened. But what appeared wasn’t Sam. Instead a plate bearing a square, frosted cake eased around the edge of the open door, the plate clutched in a familiar hand.

Zoe choked, blinked, and said, “It’s a cake.”

“So it is.” Noah didn’t know what Sam was up to, but he’d let the man run with it.

Zoe looked up at his face. “A real cake?”

“Looks real.”

Below the cake, Zoe’s small plastic play table from the family room also edged around the door, wobbling only slightly before settling on the carpet. To the accompaniment of whining spaceship noises, the cake began to rise and fall, almost landing on the table, then slowly retreating away around the door, disappearing…

“No!” Zoe cried. “I want the cake.”

At her words, the cake reappeared, and settled on the little table. Then Sam’s hand retreated and came back with a stack of small plates, then a trio of forks, and last three juice boxes. In a high falsetto, Sam said from behind the door, “Dinner is served.”

“Can that be dinner?” Zoe asked.

Yes? No? Noah tried, “I don’t think so. I’ve never heard of cake for dinner.”

Sam’s falsetto said, “Oooh but yes, cake can be dinner. Dessert is the very best dinner.”

“See?” Zoe pushed farther from Noah’s chest to point. “It is dinner.”

“I think we should vote,” Noah said. “I vote cake is not dinner.”

“I vote it is.” Zoe folded her arms.

“That’s a tie. We need a tie breaker,” Noah pointed out. “Someone sensible who’ll vote no.”

Out of sight, Sam warbled, “Or someone fun, who votes yes, yes, yes, cake.”

Zoe waved his way. “The cake votes yes.”

“Cakes don’t get a vote,” Noah told her. “We could ask Sam.” He held his breath.

His girl turned her wide dark eyes on him. He knew she wasn’t fooled by the cake-voice, just tempted into playing along. He could imagine the wheels in her head racing, deciding what she could concede, dared to concede, without losing too much. She dropped her pony to fist both hands in Noah’s shirt. “Sam is safe?”

“I promise.” However she meant that, Noah had no hesitation with that promise. He held his breath.

“Okay. Maybe he could vote for the cake.”

Sam peeked around the door, a smile on his face. “Hello, folks. I’m told there’s a vital election going on here.”

Noah put a very exaggerated scowl on his face. “I need a vote to confirm that cake is a silly, sugary, sticky not-dinner.”

Zoe piped up in a shaky voice, “Yes, dinner.” Noah couldn’t help dropping a kiss on her head. She’s not being stubborn about Sam to be obnoxious, she’s trying to be brave.

“Oh, my.” Sam pointed at the cake, then at Noah, then Zoe. “That’s a difficult decision.” He hummed a bum-bum-bum tone that sounded vaguely like the tension music from a talent show, while moving his finger back and forth. “The winner is… Yes, cake!”

Zoe actually bounced and said, “Yay!” before remembering and clutching Noah’s shirt again.

Sam got down on his knees and began pushing the laden table slowly across the floor toward them, staying low and unintimidating. “You know what else?”

When Zoe was silent, Noah said, “What?”

“Dinner cake has to be eaten in a bedroom.”

“Oh, it does?”

“Yes, of course. Dinner cake is a special event.” Sam brought the table to a halt by Noah’s knees, and sat on the floor across from them. Picking up the plates, he set two side by side in front of Noah, and one on his side. Then he lifted the serving knife. “Now, Your Majesty Zoe. Which piece would you like? I have here the middle slice with the nice respectable amount of icing. I have the edge slice, with the large amount of icing. And I have the corner piece with the mega, honking, ridiculous amount of icing.“

Zoe tilted her head, eyeing him. “Which one are you eating?”

Sam’s gaze flicked up to Noah’s. All Noah could do was shrug. He had no clue how to keep Zoe moving forward.

Sam said, “Well, health and moderation say I should eat that middle piece…” He was watching Zoe carefully. After a second, he continued, “But who cares about moderation? I think I’ll have that icing-slathered corner with the icing rose on it.”

“I want that one.” Zoe eyed him coolly.

Now what? Noah didn’t know if she should have her way, or be taught to share.

But Sam grinned. “Your wish is my command, Your Majesty.” As he was slicing off a small piece from the corner with the obscene amount of sweet goo he added, “Because I’ll tell you a secret. It’s a square cake, so it has four corners with mega slathered icing roses. Here. Yours.” He set the small piece onto the plate in front of her. “And mine.” He cut the equivalent from the other corner and set it in front of himself. “We can both have what we want.”

Zoe blinked.

Sam said, “What do you think? Does your uncle get a nice tame center piece, or mega icing too?”

“Mega,” Zoe commanded.

“Right.” Sam made an corner cut, then set the knife perpendicular to it. “This size or bigger?”

“Bigger.”

He moved the knife a fraction. “Here?”

“Bigger.”

Another fraction.

“Bigger!”

Sam set the knife about two inches over. “Like this?”

“Yes!”

Sam cut the cake, plated it, and handed it to Noah. Noah blinked at the giant chunk iced with sugar and shortening in lurid colors. I’m going to be up all night if I eat that. He looked at Zoe. She was eyeing him as if waiting for her taste-tester to confirm the cake wasn’t poison. Oh well, sleepless in a good cause. He reached around Zoe, forked up a big bite, and made yum, yum noises as he swallowed it.

Sam plunked a straw in a juice box, and passed it to him.

“Thanks.” He washed the sweet goo down. “Yummy.”

Zoe eased out of his lap, sitting close beside him so her bony little knee dug into his thigh, and picked up her fork. Noah tried not to watch as she forked up a bite of the icing, licked it, then nodded. “It’s good.”

“Only the best for Queen Zoe,” Sam said.

“I’m an astronaut.”

“Ah. It’s a good thing you’re on Earth today, because in space they have to eat the icing right out of the tube and there is no cake.”

“No cake?”

“Crumbs are messy in space.”

“Hm.” Zoe eyed her plate. “Maybe I go into space next week.”

“That would make stocking up on cake now the sensible thing to do,” Sam suggested.

She nodded. “I will stock up. Uncle Noah, you’re not eating yours.”

Noah took bites between sips of apple juice, trying not to grimace as the other two finished their much more manageable servings.

When they were done, Zoe said, “That’s enough cake for dinner.”

More than enough. With that kind of sugar mainlining, Noah wasn’t the only one in the house who’d be up all night.

Zoe waved her fork at Sam. “You can go away now.”

Noah’s “Zoe!” was overridden by Sam saying, “When shall I come back? Ice cream is also a good dessert for dinner. If you make banana splits with fruit, it’s almost healthy dessert.”

Zoe climbed back into Noah’s lap, gripping his shirt in one hand and her fork in the other. After a pause that stretched long enough to make Noah’s breath shorten, she said, “Next week is good for ice cream.”

Sam rose slowly and bowed to her. “Your wish is my command. Ice cream next week.”

“And you’ll bring it here and Uncle Noah won’t go out.”

“Right here. Dinner dessert is served in the bedroom.”

“And when you go away again, Uncle Noah will stay with me.”

Sam went to one knee to look her directly in the eyes. “Zoe, honey, your uncle will always stay with you, as long as you need him to. Sometimes I’ll come over and spend time with him, but he’ll always be here for you.”

Zoe nodded slowly. “Okay. I guess that’s okay.”

Sam straightened and went to the door. There he paused. “See you next week, Zoe. Bye, Noah. I’ll see myself out. Call me.” He kissed his fingers, blew the kiss in their direction, and then was gone.

Noah’s eyes watered. That’s one good man. How did I get so lucky?

Zoe tugged on Noah’s beard. “Hey. Hey, Uncle Noah?”

He tore his eyes away form the empty doorway and looked down. “Yes, honey?”

“I’m full of cake. Will you read me a book?”

He almost told her to finish her juice box first, but it wasn’t as if six mouthfuls of apple juice would redeem this nutritional nightmare. Forget nutrition. “Sure. Stretch out on the bed.” He eased her off his knees. “What book would you like?”

“Prince & Knight.” She stretched out on her pillow. “If the knight had a little girl, he wouldn’t let the dragon get her. And neither would the prince.”

Noah swallowed hard. “No, they wouldn’t.”

“And then you can read Each One Special and Julian is a Mermaid and Sarah May and the Red Dress.” She waved her fork and he took it from her, setting it on the icing smeared plate. “Can we have cake for breakfast too?”

“No, honey,” he said firmly. “I don’t think your teachers would approve.”

“I bet Sam would,” Zoe said coyly, watching his face.

Noah could only laugh. “You know, he just might.”

As he dug through Zoe’s shelves, he couldn’t resist pulling out his phone and surreptitiously texting, ~I love you, cake man.

Before he could put the phone away, it pinged back, ~Just wait till you meet ice cream man. You’re gonna want to lick his cone.

Noah snorted spit up his nose, but pocketed the phone. That one deserved a reply later in the evening.

Zoe asked, “What are you laughing at?”

“Life.” Noah stacked the requested stories on the nightstand, bent and kissed her forehead. “Sometimes you just have to go with the flow.”

“And eat cake?”

“Definitely.” He gave the child of his heart one more kiss, wiped the icing off her chin with a tissue, and settled beside her on the bed, opening the first book. “Once upon a time, in a kingdom far from here…“

 

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