“I think that probably comes from the parents’ nervousness,” Morgan replied with a nod. “Kids pick up on that stuff. My mom was scared to death of roller coasters, and I still won’t go near one even though logically I know they’re safe.”
“You live in Southern California and you don’t go on roller coasters?” I asked as Etta made her way toward me.
“There’s more than amusement parks down here,” Morgan chided with a little laugh. “But to be clear, I’ll go on rides, I just won’t go on those open-air roller coasters.”
“So, you’re cool with the baby rides, then.”
“Whatever.” She laughed and splashed water in my direction.
“No ’plashin’!” Etta scolded as she reached me.
“Sorry,” Morgan replied. “You’re right, no splashing.”
“You don’t like water in your face?” I asked, crouching down so that I was eye-to-eye with the tiny swimmer. “Me either.”
She said something that I couldn’t understand, but by the look on her face and her tone, it sounded like a diatribe about the evils of splashing water.
“She doesn’t like when water gets in her eyes,” Morgan translated as Etta turned away and started paddling around again. “Washing her hair is a franking nightmare. She swims like a fish, though, and the irony is not lost on me.”
“I have a nephew that was the same way,” I replied. “Not the swimming part, but the hair-washing aversion.”
“Do you have a lot of nieces and nephews?”
“Six,” I answered. “Well, Etta makes seven.”
“That’s awesome,” Morgan replied, smiling as we watched Etta swim. “My sister doesn’t have any kids yet, so Etta’s the only grandchild.”
“Yeah, Shane—my foster brother, you never met him, I don’t think—and my cousin Kate have five. Then my cousin Bram has one.”
“I remember Bram. He’s a twin, right?”
“Right.”
“He was the pissy one?”
“Right again.” I laughed. “His twin’s name is Alex.”
“Alex was the cute one,” she said, her lips twitching as she hummed a little.
“If you say so.” Discussing how cute Alex was might have been in the top ten things I’d never want to discuss with the woman sitting next to me.
“Everyone said so,” she replied with a laugh.
“Anyway,” I murmured, changing the subject. “Etta’s got a lot of cousins to play with.”
“That’s awesome,” Morgan said.
“Do you—” I cleared my throat and started again. “Do you think you’d be cool with meeting them? There’s a lot of us, but maybe they could come in waves or something.”
Morgan’s laugh sounded almost like a bark, and her hand flew up to cover her mouth.
“Come in waves?” she asked, her eyes crinkled in the corners as she tried to hold back laughter.
“I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed—”
“Trevor, I was shuffled around foster homes for two years as a teenager. Your family isn’t going to overwhelm me.”
“Well, that’s good,” I said, pausing as Etta jumped off the pool stairs again. “Because they all want to meet you guys.”
“Sounds good to me,” she replied, looking away. “We’ll make it happen.”
“Yeah, kind of hard with my parents in Oregon,” I said, picking up on the hesitant tone of her words. “But Shane and Kate and the kids live down here, outside San Diego.”
“No shit?” Morgan said.
“Yeah. She’s been bugging me to come see you guys since we found out about you.”
“She can come see us.” Morgan shrugged. “I mean, I have to work and stuff, so it’ll depend on our schedule.”
“I’ll let her know,” I replied, deciding then and there that I’d give it a few days before I told Kate any such thing.
Morgan was being really cool about letting Etta see our side of the family. She’d been kind and welcoming to me from the minute she saw me on her front step, and she’d even agreed to bring Etta to hang out with me, but I could tell by the way her body had tensed just now that she was feeling a little cornered. I didn’t want her to feel like that. If she was going to have a relationship with us, she needed to know that we weren’t going to try to push her around or take over her life. At least that’s what I repeated over and over in my mind. If I was honest with myself, a small part of me wanted to force the issue, even though I knew that would be an asshole move.
“So, what do you do for a living?” I asked, redirecting our conversation.
“What do you do for a living?” she shot back.
“I run the family logging company,” I answered easily. “Me and Bram pretty much run the show now that our dads are semiretired.”
“Interesting,” she said. Her hands skimmed the surface of the water, back and forth in a hypnotizing pattern. They were delicate, just like the rest of her, and she wore a thin gold band on the pinky of her right hand.
“Plumber?” I guessed jokingly. “Construction worker? Flagger? Underwater demolition expert?”