Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
She groans as she turns back to me. “I was going to get it when I do my homework.”
I close the door to the garage and nod toward the discarded bag. “Get it now. You know better than to throw things on the floor.”
Bowie Jane grumbles but does as I ask because she’s a genuinely good kid. Does she have moments where she gets sassy or pushes boundaries?
Absolutely.
But that’s part of growing up and finding her way. I also believe in consistently enforcing rules, even something as simple as not throwing things on the floor.
Once her bag is on the table, she heads to the pantry to get a snack. We agreed she could have an hour before she has to start homework to relax or do whatever she wants. Often, she’ll watch TV or play the guitar. If it’s a nice day out, she’ll go swing on the big wooden play set Foster got over the summer.
When she exits the pantry with a small bag of Cheez-Its in hand, I say, “We’re having salmon for dinner. Do you want broccoli or green beans?”
“Green beans,” she replies before stuffing a handful of crackers in her mouth.
“What do you have for homework tonight?”
She talks through the mouthful of food but I give her a look… one that has her grinning abashedly at me as she chews and swallows before speaking. “Three pages of math, reading for twenty minutes and spelling.”
“All right,” I say, glancing at the kitchen clock. “Be ready to start around four thirty. Until then, go forth and do that crazy thing you do, whatever that may be.”
Bowie Jane heads upstairs, most likely to watch TV in her playroom, but I’ll bet within twenty minutes or so, I’ll hear her plucking at the guitar. She’s gotten really good, really fast, and I feel an overwhelming flush of pride in her. I’ve never had one of my charges be interested in learning the guitar. Most of them played piano, which is all well and good. I play and love it, but there’s something very endearing about Bowie Jane following in my footsteps.
I don’t have to start dinner right away because the salmon will go in the air fryer and the green beans I’ll nuke right in the bag and then sauté them with olive oil and garlic. I check my phone to see if Foster texted, but nothing since his last one a little over an hour ago. He’s in Toronto for a game and he was leaving the hotel for the arena. He may or may not attempt to FaceTime with Bowie Jane, but that all depends on his pregame preparation and if he can spare a moment. At the very least, he’ll send me a video to play for her before bedtime, and I love that he’s always reminding her of his presence, even when he’s not here.
“Mazzy.” I look up to see Bowie Jane standing there with her guitar in one hand and a music book in the other. “Do you mind if I play down here?”
“Not at all. Do you want me to teach you anything new?”
“Maybe later, but I want to practice that new song… ‘Sloop John B.’”
“That’s a good one. One of the first I learned.” I nod toward the living room. “Have at it.”
Just as she’s settling down on the couch and opening the songbook to the proper page, the doorbell rings and I assume it’s a delivery. Foster insisted I use his Amazon account to order any household goods I might need. I walk through the living room, listening as Bowie Jane does the warm-up drills I taught her to loosen up her fingers.
I swing the door open, my gaze already dropped to the porch for whatever package might be there but instead I see a pair of legs in skinny jeans and kitten heels. I lift my head and am stunned to see Sandra standing there with a large purse slung over her shoulder.
She’s a beautiful woman, all sleek and polished with flawless features.
“Hello, Mazzy,” she says with a smile, sticking out her hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”
I’m so shocked that I’m on autopilot as we shake hands and I can’t think of anything to say.
As our hands break apart, she says, “I made an impulsive trip here to visit Bowie Jane. Thought I’d surprise her.”
Surprise would be a good word to describe this visit, but she had been promising to make a trip to see her soon. The last few weeks Sandra’s calls have been frequent, consistent and engaging. Most of all, they’ve been fun for Bowie Jane and I’ve watched their relationship start to heal. Sandra’s also been polite to me in her requests to talk to Bowie Jane outside of our normal times, especially since it’s my phone that Bowie Jane talks to her on.