parent
spring to attention. I quickly spotted the source, Anna, who'd spilled
red punch on her pristine outfit.
"Oh man." Nate took an uncertain step in that direction.
I saved his ass again. "We'll take care of it." And, used to
spills, Mom and I did, quickly wiping up and wiping down. Anna's
leotard, though damp, was barely stained when we finished. I walked
back to Nate. "Her clothes need to be washed ASAP."
"I'll make sure they are."
"So who's keeping her while the parents are in
Branson?"
I got another one of those looks. "Me, of course. It's only for
two nights."
My jaw dropped. "Dude, you're not up for this."
"I resent that."
I instantly regretted my thoughtless blurt. "Sorry. It's just
that five-year-old--"
"Four. She's four."
Wow. Even worse. "Four-year-old girls can be very
complicated."
"So can teenage girls," he said with a laugh, blowing me off.
"But I somehow managed to date a few. Anna and I will be fine."
Did that mean he wasn't dating now? "Look, I babysit all the
time, and I'm telling you from the bottom of the heart that if you
have a problem with wiping her butt, you are not prepared for
twenty-four-seven times two."
"And I'm telling you we'll be fine."
I gave up with reluctance and only because I thrust one of
my brand new business cards at him. Giving him my cell number
would've been a wildest dream come true if he'd actually asked for it.
Unfortunately, he hadn't. "Promise you'll call me if things get
crazy."
"They won't." He sounded so sure, but still pocketed the
card.
I didn't argue further, instead returning to the party, which
had begun to break up. Handing each pint-sized guest a shiny bag
filled with goodies, I waved all of them out the door. As Nate and
Anna left, he turned and gave me one last grin and mouthed, I've
got this.
I couldn't help but grin back, as glad he wasn't pissed, as I
was certain he didn't have anything.
"Cute," Mom said, walking up. "As in very."
"Isn't she a doll?"
"I'm talking about the guy. Who is he?"
I told her.
"The same Nate you been crushing on since ninth
grade?"
"That'd be him. Totally hot; totally clueless."
"About your feelings?"
"About them and babysitting his stepsister." I gave her the
short version.
Mom shook her head. "He's not up for it."
"I know, right? Maybe we should go with apple juice instead
of punch for the parties. less stains."
"Great idea," Mom said, heading for the vacuum cleaner so
she could clean up all the cake crumbs on the floor. And since we had
another faerie gala in thirty minutes, I began wiping down the table
and chairs.
Saturdays with the faeries were like that.
* * * *
We got home two parties later and only after driving
through a weather phenomenon I called thunder snow that had
compromised the roads. That's when the sky produced rain that
turned to sleet, snow, or both because the temperature hovered
around freezing point. We occasionally ended up with the special
effects of an electrical storm and the inches of a blizzard. Good ol'
Arkansas. Winter mornings that began in the low twenties often
ended with afternoons in the sixties, and tornadoes in December
were nothing unusual. But the weatherman had promised that this
year we'd have a week of winter mix, with nothing worse.
After a light dinner, I spent an hour wrapping presents in
the den by our gorgeous Christmas tree, which I'd decorated with
the faerie ornaments I'd collected since birth. Yeah, I'd wanted to be
Tinker Bell for as long as I could remember, and devoted parents had
indulged their only daughter, the youngest of three children,
something I intended to do for my own kids. My passion had even
influenced the fae theme at Festivities, which I thought worked very
well.
I literally fell into bed around ten, fully expecting to be
asleep in seconds. Instead, I thought of Nate with his messy dark
hair, green eyes, and amazing smile. He was just my type physically
speaking--tall, v-framed, a little on the slim side but still strong. My
high
spring to attention. I quickly spotted the source, Anna, who'd spilled
red punch on her pristine outfit.
"Oh man." Nate took an uncertain step in that direction.
I saved his ass again. "We'll take care of it." And, used to
spills, Mom and I did, quickly wiping up and wiping down. Anna's
leotard, though damp, was barely stained when we finished. I walked
back to Nate. "Her clothes need to be washed ASAP."
"I'll make sure they are."
"So who's keeping her while the parents are in
Branson?"
I got another one of those looks. "Me, of course. It's only for
two nights."
My jaw dropped. "Dude, you're not up for this."
"I resent that."
I instantly regretted my thoughtless blurt. "Sorry. It's just
that five-year-old--"
"Four. She's four."
Wow. Even worse. "Four-year-old girls can be very
complicated."
"So can teenage girls," he said with a laugh, blowing me off.
"But I somehow managed to date a few. Anna and I will be fine."
Did that mean he wasn't dating now? "Look, I babysit all the
time, and I'm telling you from the bottom of the heart that if you
have a problem with wiping her butt, you are not prepared for
twenty-four-seven times two."
"And I'm telling you we'll be fine."
I gave up with reluctance and only because I thrust one of
my brand new business cards at him. Giving him my cell number
would've been a wildest dream come true if he'd actually asked for it.
Unfortunately, he hadn't. "Promise you'll call me if things get
crazy."
"They won't." He sounded so sure, but still pocketed the
card.
I didn't argue further, instead returning to the party, which
had begun to break up. Handing each pint-sized guest a shiny bag
filled with goodies, I waved all of them out the door. As Nate and
Anna left, he turned and gave me one last grin and mouthed, I've
got this.
I couldn't help but grin back, as glad he wasn't pissed, as I
was certain he didn't have anything.
"Cute," Mom said, walking up. "As in very."
"Isn't she a doll?"
"I'm talking about the guy. Who is he?"
I told her.
"The same Nate you been crushing on since ninth
grade?"
"That'd be him. Totally hot; totally clueless."
"About your feelings?"
"About them and babysitting his stepsister." I gave her the
short version.
Mom shook her head. "He's not up for it."
"I know, right? Maybe we should go with apple juice instead
of punch for the parties. less stains."
"Great idea," Mom said, heading for the vacuum cleaner so
she could clean up all the cake crumbs on the floor. And since we had
another faerie gala in thirty minutes, I began wiping down the table
and chairs.
Saturdays with the faeries were like that.
* * * *
We got home two parties later and only after driving
through a weather phenomenon I called thunder snow that had
compromised the roads. That's when the sky produced rain that
turned to sleet, snow, or both because the temperature hovered
around freezing point. We occasionally ended up with the special
effects of an electrical storm and the inches of a blizzard. Good ol'
Arkansas. Winter mornings that began in the low twenties often
ended with afternoons in the sixties, and tornadoes in December
were nothing unusual. But the weatherman had promised that this
year we'd have a week of winter mix, with nothing worse.
After a light dinner, I spent an hour wrapping presents in
the den by our gorgeous Christmas tree, which I'd decorated with
the faerie ornaments I'd collected since birth. Yeah, I'd wanted to be
Tinker Bell for as long as I could remember, and devoted parents had
indulged their only daughter, the youngest of three children,
something I intended to do for my own kids. My passion had even
influenced the fae theme at Festivities, which I thought worked very
well.
I literally fell into bed around ten, fully expecting to be
asleep in seconds. Instead, I thought of Nate with his messy dark
hair, green eyes, and amazing smile. He was just my type physically
speaking--tall, v-framed, a little on the slim side but still strong. My
high
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