She thought for a moment, then said, “Lexie’s too shy. She’ll need me.”
John seriously doubted there was a shy bone in Lexie’s body. “Don’t bullshit me, Georgie.”
Her green eyes narrowed. “Just don’t go where I can’t see you.”
“What do you think I’m going to do, kidnap her?”
“No,” she said, but John knew she didn’t trust him any more than he trusted her. He had a feeling that was exactly what she thought.
“We won’t go too far.” He turned back tow
ard the others. He’d told Hugh about Georgeanne and Lexie, and he knew he could count on his friend’s discretion. “Are you ready, Lexie?” he asked.
“Yep.” She stood with her pink kite in hand, and together the two of them headed away from people throwing Frisbees, toward a nice grassy expanse. After Lexie got her feet tangled in the kite’s tail the second time, John took it from her. The top of her head barely reached his waist, and he felt huge walking next to her. Again he didn’t know what to say and did very little talking. But then, he didn’t need to.
“Last year, when I was a little kid, I was in kindergarten,” his daughter began, then she proceeded to name each child in her class, relate whether they owned a pet, and describe the breed.
“And he gots three dogs.” She held up three fingers. “That’s just not fair.”
John looked over his shoulder, determined that they’d walked a couple of hundred feet, and stopped. “I think this is a good spot.”
“Do you gots any dogs?”
“No. No dogs.” He handed her back the spool of string with the stick through the center.
She shook her head sadly. “Me neither, but I want a dalmatian,” she said as she grasped each side of the stick. “A great big one with lots of spots.”
“Keep the string tight.” He held the pink kite above his head and felt the gentle pull of the breeze.
“Don’t I have to run?”
“Not today.” He moved the kite to the left and the wind tugged harder. “Now walk backward, but don’t let out any string until I tell you.” She nodded and looked so serious he almost laughed.
After ten tries, the kite rose about twenty feet in the air. “Help me.” She panicked, her face turned skyward. “It’s gonna fall again.”
“Not this time,” he assured her as he came to stand next to her. “And if it does, we’ll put it back up.”
She shook her head and her denim hat fell on the ground. “It’s gonna fall, I just know it. You take it!” She shoved the spool toward him.
John lowered himself to one knee beside her. “You can do it,” he said, and when she leaned her back against his chest, he felt his heart stop for a few beats. “Just let the string out slowly.” John stared into her face as she watched her kite soar higher. Her expression turned quickly from trepidation to delight.
“I did it,” she whispered, and turned to look over her shoulder at him.
Her soft breath brushed his cheek and swept deep down to his soul. A moment before, his heart had felt as if it had stopped; now it swelled. It felt as if a balloon were being inflated beneath his sternum. It grew big and fast and intense, and he had to look away. He looked at the people flying kites around him. He looked at fathers and mothers and children. Families. He was a daddy again. But for how long this time? his cynical subconscious asked.
“I did it, Mr. Wall.” She spoke quietly, as if a raised voice would bring her kite crashing to the ground.
He looked back at his child. “My name is John.”
“I did it, John.”
“Yes, you did.”
She smiled. “I like you.”
“I like you, Lexie.”
She looked up at her kite. “Do you gots kids?”