Aslan

S parrow capped the marker and added it to the pile, admiring her picture.

After a bite to eat, she’d perked up. We’d hunted for art supplies since all five-year-old girls liked to color, and the distraught child needed a distraction.

The best we’d come up with were three whiteboard markers, two fluorescent highlighters, and various colored pens. Sparrow didn’t complain.

“I’m done.” She turned her drawing around to show me, glowing with pride.

I’d given her a spot at Torin’s desk, and she seemed to enjoy his swivel chair, maneuvering it back and forth in a gentle rock the entire time she drew.

Since she was so tiny, I’d borrowed several stacks of printer paper from the supply room to boost her higher on the seat.

“Wow. You are an artist.” I used a poor French accent, adding a chef’s kiss to drive the point home.

“Magnifique.” Amelia had reminded me a dozen or more times to never ask a child what they drew since it could be interpreted incorrectly.

To them, the image was obvious, so I used my sister’s alternate phrasing instead. “Can you tell me about it? ”

Sparrow peered over the top of the paper, viewing it upside down and blocking most of the picture with her hair, but I listened to her explain.

“That’s Mommy. She’s in bed because the doctor said she had to not do exercise to keep the baby safe.

That’s Daddy with his tie on ’cause he’s going to work at the office with Uncle Jude.

He’s not my real uncle, but Daddy said we can call him that.

This is Crow and his blue backpack ’cause he’s going to school, and this is me with my pink one.

It has unicorns on it. I’m going to grade one when summer is over. No more baby school.”

“Who is the lovely lady in the dress?”

“That’s Clementine. She used to be our nanny, only not anymore because Mommy yelled at her to get out. She likes to wear dresses in the summer. She’s pretty.”

“Is that a bird on her shoulder?”

“Yep. That’s a cocktail. He’s a white bird with yellow feathers, but I didn’t have those colors.

” Sparrow’s finger moved to another grown-up.

“This is Grandma Walsh. She visits Mommy all the time to make sure the baby is okay. This is Rex, my dog, ’cept he’s not real.

Daddy said no pets, but Uncle Flynn said maybe on my birthday. He’s my real uncle.”

“Did you draw the baby inside your mommy’s tummy?”

“Yep. That’s him. It’s a boy, you know. The doctor said so.

” She gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m having another brother.

I hate brothers. I wanted a sister. Mommy said you don’t get to pick.

His name is gonna be Robin. Daddy doesn’t like that name, but Mommy’s the boss, and she said, ‘Too bad, so sad.’ Daddy said, ‘Enough birds in my house.’” She mimicked what I assumed was her father’s teasing tone, and I chuckled.

“He’s kidding. He likes his birds, just not dogs. ”

“That’s an amazing picture. ”

Sparrow beamed and settled on the chair to admire it, no longer rocking side to side. “Do you have kids?”

“Actually, there is a lady with my baby in her tummy right now, waiting to be born any day.”

“Your wife?”

“No. She’s called a surrogate.”

Sparrow frowned. “Is that mean a girlfriend?”

I chuckled. “No. Not a girlfriend. Remember Detective Quaid, who brought you over here?”

She glanced at the hallway to no-man’s-land and MPU. “Yeah. I remember. He’s talking to Daddy about Crow.”

“That’s right. Detective Quaid is my husband, and since boys can’t make a baby together, they sometimes have a lady called a surrogate to help them.”

Sparrow’s five-year-old brain seemed to turn that information around and around. When I expected her to ask a hundred questions about why two boys were married or what a surrogate meant, or how the baby got in her tummy, she didn’t. “So, you’re having a baby soon, like Mommy?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re going to be a daddy?”

“I am.”

“Is it a boy too?”

“We don’t know. It’s going to be a surprise.”

“I hope you have a girl baby. Girls are better.”

I laughed. “Is that so?”

“What’s her name going to be?”

I sighed. If it wasn’t Amelia or my mother hassling us about names, it was an inquisitive five-year-old I met thirty minutes ago. “We haven’t decided yet.”

“How come? The baby needs a name.”

“I know, but Detective Quaid is super-duper- duper picky.”

“I’ll help.” She puckered her lips and scrunched her face as her eyes shifted from side to side. “Do you want a bird name?”

“I don’t think so. There are enough birds in your family.”

“That’s true. Hmm… How about Daisy like a flower?”

“That’s pretty, but what if the baby’s a boy?”

She shook her head. “Nope. It won’t be. It will be a girl, and you can name her Daisy.”

I was about to object and ask why she was so certain we were having a girl when Quaid appeared from the hallway looking more haggard than earlier.

“Hey, hot stuff. Sparrow and I were brainstorming baby names? How do you feel about Daisy for a girl?”

“I…” His face contorted into a multitude of unpleasant expressions before he noticed Sparrow watching and landed on something neutral. “I have no opinion right now.” Propping his hands on his hips, he offered Sparrow a gentle smile. “Did you have fun with Detective Aslan?”

“I drew a picture.” She showed him.

“Wow. That’s a lot of people.”

Sparrow proceeded to explain every detail of her drawing. When she landed on the nanny and said the bird on her shoulder was a cocktail, Quaid smirked. “Do you mean he’s a cockatoo?”

“That’s it.” She smacked her forehead. “I always forget. His name is Banjo. He doesn’t talk much, but he can sure dance.

Clementine showed us. Crowley and I went with her one day to help feed it.

She has to take care of it because her friend is gone all summer, and it’s just him all alone in the big house.

Then we went to the park, and Clementine bought us ice cream.

Crow got chocolate mint. I had strawberry.

Clementine ate something with nuts. I don’t like nuts.

She let me have a taste, but it was yucky. ”

Sparrow’s lips drew into a frown. “But we can’t do fun stuff now because Mommy fired her.”

Quaid and I exchanged glances, but before he could speak, Sparrow barreled on, changing courses and moods in the same way Kylee sometimes did, steering us full circle and catching my husband off guard.

To Quaid, she said, “I picked the name Daisy for you. For your baby. How come you made a face? Don’t you like it?”

My husband’s brows rose, and he dashed a glance in my direction. “I didn’t make a face.”

“You always make a face, hot stuff.”

“I do not.” To Sparrow, he said, “Daisy is a pretty name.”

“Your baby’s gonna be a girl. I know it. Detective Aslan said you didn’t have a name yet, so I helped. He said you didn’t want a bird name, so I picked a flower instead. Flowers are nice, aren’t they?”

“They are. Um… Did you eat something?”

“Yup. Five cookies, all the snacks from the fridge, and dill pickle chips from the vending machine. They were zingy on my tongue.” She stuck it out as though Quaid might be able to see.

“It’s all the salt. Did you have something to drink?”

“Yep. Orange pop.”

Quaid sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Chuckling earned me a narrow-eyed glare. “Lovely balance of foods, by the way. A plus.”

“I aim to please.”

“No wonder she’s talking a mile a minute. How many gummy bears did she eat?”

“A hundred!” Sparrow said with a grin.

“A handful,” I corrected .

Quaid sneered, knowing Sparrow’s approximation was likely more accurate than mine, but my husband knew me too well to stay angry. Hell, it was never anger. Exasperation, sure, but Quaid loved me, flaws and all.

He shuffled, and his expression turned to a familiar picture of worry and despair as he glanced to the hallway to no-man’s-land. Sparrow must have caught the shift in the atmosphere as well.

“Is my daddy still crying?” The child’s joy melted, and her anxious concern returned, making her voice meek and her chin wobble.

“He’s still sad,” Quaid explained, “but we’re going to help him.”

“Did you find Crow yet? He went to soccer but must have forgotten how to get there and got lost. Do you think he’s lost, Detective Quaid?”

“Maybe. We have a lot of looking to do.”

Sparrow glanced at the hallway. “Do I have to go home now?”

If heartbreak could be communicated through the eyes alone, Quaid displayed it. “Yeah, sweetie, but… it’s going to be better. I promise. Mommy and Daddy won’t forget you need them too. I’ll make sure of it. We’ll get someone at the house to help.”

“They forgot my breakfast today.”

“I know.”

“Nobody tucked me into bed last night. I had to go all by myself. No hugs and no kisses.”

“That won’t happen again.”

Sparrow’s bottom lip wobbled. “I wish Crow would come back, then everyone wouldn’t be sad and yelling anymore.”

“I know, sweetie.” Quaid blinked heavily a few times and cleared his throat. “Az…” Even with his gaze locked on Sparrow, I knew what he was going to say.

I spared him the agony. “Take the case. ”

He waffled, pressing a fist to his mouth for a long minute before shaking his head. “No. We’re technically on leave, and—”

“And you’re technically a detective whose replacement doesn’t start until Monday.”

“Our baby could be born before Monday. Bryn’s already dilated. The doctor said anytime.”

“Then you’d better find this boy fast.”

He craned his neck, staring at the ceiling. “I can’t.”

“You can.”

“No. I’ll make some calls. I’ll find Jordyn help.”

“But you don’t want to.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” he snapped.

I grabbed his hand and weaved our fingers together, drawing his attention to me. “Quaid Valor. Follow your instincts. Follow your heart. This will eat at you otherwise, and you know it.”