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“It’s dinnertime,” my daughter declares.
I check my watch. Sure enough, it’s five-thirty p.m. My little poppet is a stickler for routine.
I head to the fridge and pull out the simple pasta dish with a tomato sauce I made earlier. I plate it into Serene’s favorite dish, garnishing it with parmesan cheese. Then, I add boiled beans, carrots and corn kernels on a side plate. I place the dishes on the counter in front of Serene, along with her training fork.
“Don’t you want to heat it up in the microwave?” Priscilla asks.
I shake my head. “She prefers it cold.”
Serene looks at Priscilla with expectation on her face.
“You want me to feed you, honey?” Priscilla asks softly.
Serene nods. I raise my eyebrows. Serene is independent enough to want to eat on her own. I can count the number of occasions on which she’s allowed me to feed her since discovering it's something she can do on her own. Yet here she is, insisting that Priscilla feed her?
Priscilla scoops up some of the pasta and offers it to Serene. Without taking her gaze off Priscilla’s face, Serene accepts the food, chews and swallows, then pops her mouth open again.
I watch with growing amazement as she finishes off the pasta, as well as the vegetables. She’s far better behaved for Priscilla than for me.
“Dessert,” the kid demands.
“Coming up, your highness.” I exchange a glance with Priscilla, who seems amused by my daughter’s imperious manner.
She schools her features into a stern expression and turns to Serene. “What do you say?”
Serene blinks at her. I’m sure she’s going to ignore Priscilla but instead, she surprises me by saying softly, “Please?”
“Well done.” Priscilla flashes Serene a big smile.
Serene seems enchanted by it. Don’t blame you, kiddo. I can barely tear my gaze off Priscilla’s shining features to peel a banana and cut it up.
I place it in a bowl in front of Serene. Once more, Priscilla feeds her. And Serene finishes off every piece of fruit without demur. I bet Priscilla thinks Serene’s such a well-behaved child. And she is, normally. Except for when she gets obstinate about certain ideas.
Serene raises her arms. "Bath time."
She’s never let anyone else but me bathe her. Apparently, that’s going to change?
Priscilla turns to me, a question on her face, hesitation in her eyes. But underneath that is tenderness and bemusement. Seems, as much as Priscilla trusted me the first time we met, my daughter trusts her.
"Her room is upstairs. The second door on the right. There’s an attached bath."
26
Priscilla
Your softness is not weakness?—
it is the quiet strength that holds worlds together.
-Cilla’s Post-it note
I let Serene lead me to her room. As we walk away, I glance back and catch Tyler watching us, his expression unreadable.
“Aren’t you coming?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “She’s comfortable with you. I could use the time to catch up on my emails.”
I pause.