Raphael came to a standstill in the middle of the floor. He held up one hand and went into the downstairs office, returning with a copy of the book she wanted. Karli squealed at the top of her lungs as if she’d just been given tickets to Disneyland.
“Yes! Yes!” she squealed, grabbing her unicorn and plopping down on the couch. She flipped open the front flap of the book, then slowly turned the page, and said aloud, “Chapter One, Mrs. Whatsit.”
Her small eyes were wide as they scanned the page, ingesting the words, then methodically, with the tip of her finger, she lifted the sheet and turned to the next page. Raphael looked at Dusty Rose, who said nothing.
“Dusty, what are you into, your hobbies, interests, that kind of thing,” he said, watching her face.
“I like to paint, draw, sketch, design clothes,” she said.
Raphael smiled at her. “You are in luck,” he added, asking both the teen girl with the rosy cheeks and red hair to follow him along with Willow.
He led them to a small room off of the kitchen. Raphael flipped on the light and both of the ladies gasped. The room was his mother’s old sewing den. The machine she’d used to make items for the home was probably as old as he was, but it held a dress form on casters that had collapsible shoulders. Bolts of material lined the walls in a variety of fabrics, including items for young and teen girls. The cutting table rested over cubbies that held patterns, notions, ribbons, and everything a seamstress could want.
“I think there may be a few art pads around here somewhere,” he said, smiling at Dusty. “This room belonged to my mother. Over the years, I never had the heart to come in here and officially clean it out. There are tons of patterns for clothing that she planned to make for my niece. I think a few of the patterns are left over that she used for my sister.”
Dusty’s eyes were tearing. “We can use this room...this stuff?”
“Sure, I may need to update the sewing machine, but I don’t see why not,” he said. “Does this help?”
Willow said nothing, but shook her head yes, walking over to pull out the tray of patterns. There were four different bins. One bin held patterns for home decor, including pillows, napkins, place mats, curtains, and the like. The next bin held patterns for children and teen clothing. A third bin ran over with patterns for costumes and crafts, but the final bin, held vintage patterns that would make June Cleaver swoon.
“Willow, does this help?” he asked again.
Tears welled in her eyes as she touched a bin filled with elastic, ribbons, and trims. Dusty had taken a seat on the floor, thumbing through the patterns in her size, picking the items she wanted to make first. Her eyes scanned the bolts of fabric lining the walls, and she became almost giddy with excitement.
“This is amazing, more than we could have ever hoped to have,” Willow said, wiping away a tear. “I don’t know how we can ever repay you or say thank you.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” Dusty Rose said, giving him a wide, bright smile.
“Just glad somebody can make use of this stuff,” he said, walking away and leaving them to it. Dusty Rose had come to life. Initially, he’d thought the girl to be simple, but he’d just been proven wrong.
Raphael’s mind was on other matters. First, he needed to add the additional lock to the second bedroom’s door. The girls needed to feel safe as well as their mother. Then a hot shower, and... “Shit, I’m too tired to care about the rest right now.”
In the garage, time forced him to think about more than the immediate, but also his past. The tears of joy in Willow’s eyes hadn’t gone unnoticed. There weren’t many things about the woman that went unnoticed with his eyes. Locating the latch and screws, Raphael grabbed his power drill and took the stairs by two.
The sound of the drill brought everyone running as he affixed the metal to the door and frame. He tested the strength of the bolt using his shoulder, seeing how much it would give way under force. The screws allowed little give.
“Are you locking us in, Daddy?” Karli asked concerned.
“No, this is for you three to feel safe here until you get settled. Tonight, you all will sleep together in here with your Mom,” he said.
“I want my own room,” Dusty Rose said quickly.
“Shouldn’t Mommy sleep in your room, Daddy?” Karli asked.
Raphael quickly said, “No. Your Mom will sleep in here with you until you get accustomed to this house, the sounds at night of the water, and getting to the bathroom, well, just stay in here with your Mom. If we get past a week and you’re still here, then we can talk about your own rooms.”
“Good, because my room should be yellow and purple with a unicorn headboard,” Karli said with pride.
“Sure, whatever. I’m tired and headed to bed,” Raphael said. “I’m turning on the alarm so do not go out of the doors tonight, okay?”
Karli patted him on the arm. “Aren’t you going to tuck me in tonight and kiss me on my forehead like you did last night?”
“Tonight, you have your Mother. Last night all you had was a unicorn. Goodnight, ladies.”
“Goodnight, Daddy,” the girls called out.
Raphael threw up a hand and made his way first to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. To his surprise. the kitchen was spotless. “Hmmph,” he said, taking the water upstairs and closing his door.
“Calling me Daddy...what in the hell,” he said, starting the shower.
Chapter Five – Mimeograph
IN BED, RAPHAEL LAY on his left side, staring into the darkness at the pillows on the empty side of the bed. At three separate points in his life, the other side of the bed had held an occupant. It never worked out in the long term since his work made living all about the short term. The not knowing whether or not a man would come home at night took front seat in most conversations about family planning. Even with a monthly stipend from Uncle Sam and an insurance policy that wasn’t worth more than the paper he scribbled his name on, no woman wanted to be a single parent.
When the conversations reached the point of marriage, he explained it as clearly as he could, “I pick up my bag and head out the door. There is no guarantee that I will come back. Even if I do make it back, there is no guarantee I will return the same as I left.”
This statement was usually met with tears, cursing, and balled up fists tucked into the corner of bed pillows. After the third try, he gave up. Emotionally, the whole ordeal was too hard on the lady and only hardened him inside. By the time he came off the SEAL Team and became Cadre at the school, he had no interest in changing his ways to accommodate a woman and children underfoot. He spent his money instead on upgrades in the old homestead for his mother’s comfort, and bought himself a boat.
He knew men who tried to make it work. They married, had wives, and just about all of them had children. Usually the marriages only lasted a few years. Towards the end, there were always allegations of abuse, or worse, the post-traumatic stress of missions no one could speak about replayed themselves repeatedly in fractured minds. Weary women wrapping wild wounds from nighttime skirmishes with an unseen enemy were a norm that he hated to hear. It was a norm he couldn’t force himself to bear.
It wasn’t a norm he needed in his life.