Perfect for You (Short Story) (Fire and Icing) (4 page)

Trent made an approving sound. “I like that. I don’t want Bea to have a potty mouth, but there’s a big difference between being impolite and using words to rip someone apart.”

“Exactly,” Dawn said. “But Sadie didn’t see that. She made Marshall go to his room and miss breakfast as punishment.”

Trent snorted. “What’s wrong with this woman?”

“I don’t know,” Dawn said. “She’s never had kids of her own. I guess she doesn’t realize parenting isn’t as easy as they make it look in cereal commercials. Anyway, it finally got bad enough that I told Dave I didn’t want to interact with her. In the name of keeping the peace, he helped make that happen.”

“I cussed like a sailor when I was a kid,” Trent said. “My dad loved it. He has all these videos of me cussing up a storm when I was only three or four years old. He likes to pull them out at family parties to relive the magic.”

Dawn let out a shaky laugh as she pushed to keep up with Trent’s faster pace, enjoying the way her blood thumped in her throat, thinking she might get to like this exercise thing, after all. “I’d love to see that. I bet it’s offensively adorable.”

“You should come home with me in July for the family reunion,” Trent said. “Dad would be thrilled to have a fresh pair of eyes to torture.”

Dawn bit her lip, biting back the response on the tip of her tongue. A part of her wanted to tell Trent it was too soon to be making plans a month out, but the other part of her was thrilled that he was ready to introduce her to his family.

And that part was too excited to put off meeting Bea any longer.

“You think your ex would let us take Bea out to breakfast tomorrow morning?” she asked. “I know it’s her day, but I thought maybe…if she didn’t have anything planned…”

Trent grinned back at her, slowing so they could ride side-by-side. “I bet she would. I’ll call her when we stop for snacks and ask.”

“Good,” Dawn said. “I think I’m ready to meet Bea, after all.”

“And I think you look great on that bike,” he said. “You like it? The seat cushioned enough?”

Dawn nodded, touched that he’d remembered her complaint that the hard, plastic seat on her own bike made her bottom feel bruised by the end of a ride. “It’s great. And the lack of squeaking is nice, too.”

“I can probably fix that for you, if you want,” Trent said. “If you think you’d like to keep the old bike around for when you have friends over or something.”

Dawn frowned, pedaling harder as they started up another hill. Before she could catch her breath to ask what he meant, he added—

“Because that bike is yours. My treat.”

“No way,” Dawn said. “I can’t accept this. It’s a really nice bike.”

“I own a bike shop,” Trent said. “If my girlfriend doesn’t have a really nice bike, people are going to talk.”

Dawn grinned. “Your girlfriend, huh?”

“You want to be my girlfriend,” Trent said, the hint of uncertainty in his voice as charming as his gift. “I know you do, so quit fighting it.”

“Okay,” Dawn said, surprising herself. “Maybe I will.”

And maybe she would, starting tomorrow, when she met the most important female in Trent’s life and found out if this thing between them was going to gain a fan or an enemy.

Chapter Four

“Does she like ninjas?” Beatrice piped up from her booster in the backseat with the latest in her long line of questions about Dawn.

So far they’d covered dragons, dinosaurs, robots, coloring, and diving off diving boards. Trent was pleased that he’d been able to answer as many of Bea’s queries as he had—proving he and Dawn had been doing as much getting-to-know-each-other as they had making out in the past few weeks—but when it came to ninjas…

“I don’t know, Bea,” he said, spotting the sign that their exit was coming up in two miles and starting toward the right lane. “You’ll have to ask her when we get there.”

“Okay,” Beatrice said, then added after a moment. “She isn’t going to hug me, is she?”

“Not if you don’t want to hug,” Trent said.

“I don’t. Will you tell her I don’t, Daddy?”

“She’ll know. Miss Dawn’s pretty savvy about things like that,” Trent said, nerves making his stomach ache with something other than hunger for the first time all morning. He really wanted Bea and Dawn to get along, but Bea already stressing about bodily contact wasn’t a good sign.

“Are you sure?” Bea asked in a skeptical voice.

“I promise. She’ll be able to read your body language.”

“Body language,” Bea repeated with a giggle. “That’s weird, Daddy. You’re a weirdo.”

Trent smiled. “Thanks, honey.”

“You’re welcome.” Bea was silent for a few moments, until they pulled into the parking lot of The Cracked Yolk and she let out a happy squeal. “I love this place! Daddy Harry and Mama and me go here all the time.”

“Oh, yeah?” Trent pulled into the first available spot, relieved to see Dawn was already waiting for them in the patch of grass near the door. “Miss Dawn picked this place. She said they have the best pancakes in Atlanta.”

“They do,” Beatrice said seriously. “She’s right.”

Trent helped Bea out of her booster, snagging her hand before crossing the parking lot toward Dawn.

In a bright green sundress with black lace along the bottom and a black straw hat, Dawn looked relaxed and gorgeous, but he could tell she was nervous by the way she smiled—her bottom teeth were showing and she only smiled that big when she was anxious about something.

Still, she looked excited, too. Trent hoped that excitement would be contagious and Bea would be able to relax and enjoy their breakfast.

“Hi, Beatrice, I’m so glad to finally meet you” Dawn said, leaning down and holding out her hand for Bea to shake. “Your daddy talks about you all the time.”

Bea smiled and tentatively shook Dawn’s hand, looking up at Trent as if hoping to be told how to respond. Trent smiled, but didn’t offer any suggestions. Bea didn’t need any help figuring out what to say, and he’d never been the type to put words in his daughter’s mouth. He’d had enough of that from his dad when he was a kid.

“Thanks,” Bea finally said, shyly, and pressed closer to his leg, surprising Trent.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Bea shy with anyone, but he’d never introduced her to one of his girlfriends, either. Perceptive kid that she was, Bea could probably tell on some level that this was a bigger deal than meeting some stranger off the street.

Dawn met his gaze—a hint of concern in her eyes—but she was still smiling when she suggested they go inside and see if their table was ready.

A few minutes later they were seated at a big sunny booth in the back—Trent and Beatrice on one side and Dawn on the other. Trent and Dawn were both studying the menu, but Beatrice had already declared that she was having pancakes and started work on coloring in the kid’s menu with a tiny pack of crayons the waitress had left.

“I think I’m going to have the pancakes, too,” Dawn said. “I always say I’m going to try something new, but when the pancakes are so good it’s hard to resist.”

Trent glanced at Bea out of the corner of his eye to see if discovering a pancake kindred spirit might warm her up, but she stayed focused on her coloring page, filling in the ruffle on the clown’s collar with laser-like attention to detail.

He and Dawn gave their orders to the waitress, their drinks were delivered, and the clown continued to get filled in, but still Beatrice remained uncharacteristically withdrawn.

“So your dad said you love to color,” Dawn said after several long, silent minutes, reaching into her purse. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Answer her please, Bea,” Trent urged when Beatrice kept her chin tucked and her lips zipped.

Bea cast him an irritated look before glancing shyly at Dawn. “Purple,” she said, eyes falling back to the table almost immediately.

“Well, I’m an art teacher, so I have lots of fun coloring stuff lying around the house,” Dawn continued, shaking her head subtly at Trent and mouthing “don’t push her” as she pulled a flat black case from her large, hobo bag. “This is one of my favorite things to bring with me to restaurants. My kids love drawing while we wait for our food.”

She opened up the black case to reveal rows upon rows of crayons, and a smaller selection of colored pencils on the top half, with a tear away pad of white paper on the bottom. Beatrice reached for the case with both hands, clown and lame three-pack of crayons forgotten.

“My friend, Haley, has one of these,” she said, laying it in front of her and running her fingers across the bottom row of crayons before selecting a deep purple. “She brought it to show and tell at my school.”

“My little girl, Emmie, just finished first grade, too,” Dawn said. “Show and tell was her favorite part of the week, but it took her forever to figure out what to bring. It had to be just right.”

Bea nodded as she began to draw a cat with curled horns emerging from its head. “You want something good, but not too good in case somebody accidentally breaks it during sharing time.”

“Exactly,” Dawn said, smiling. “I also heard that you like
Dr. Who
.”

Beatrice nodded more enthusiastically, but still didn’t lift her eyes from her paper. Still, the drawing seemed to be helping her relax and open up. “It’s my favorite show, but my mom only lets me watch some of the episodes. She says some aren’t appropriate until I’m bigger.”

“My mom did the same thing when I was little,” Dawn said. “I wasn’t allowed to watch anything other than cartoon movies until I was thirteen.”

“Is that why you have so many tattoos?” Trent teased, finally starting to relax. “Rebelling against your conservative upbringing?”

“No.” Dawn stuck her tongue out at him across the table. “I have tattoos because they’re cool, and I like octopuses and mermaids and pirates.”

“I like octopuses,” Bea said, looking up, her eyes wide. “I have a purple stuffed octopus and an octopus sweater that my Grammy knitted me all by herself.”

“Oh, man,” Dawn said, leaning in on her forearms. “I am so jealous! I have always wanted an octopus sweater, one where the tentacles wrap all around you and make you look like the octopus is getting ready to drag you down to the bottom of the sea.”

“Yes!” Bea stabbed her crayon excitedly into the air. “That’s the one I have! Grammy got the pattern off the Internet. She said it was the most expensive pattern ever, but she didn’t care because her favorite granddaughter loved octopuses.”

Dawn held out her fist. “Awesome.”

Bea gave her a quick fist bump, and continued to bounce up and down on her seat. “But I’m her only granddaughter so it’s kind of a joke, too.”

“That’s funny,” Dawn said, smiling. “I like funny grannies. I want to be one someday when I grow up.”

Bea giggled. “But you’re already grown up, silly head.”

And with that, Trent knew Dawn had been welcomed into Bea’s tribe. As soon as Bea started calling you names, everything was gravy.

Their breakfasts were delivered and they all fell to eating, but the conversation continued without a hitch. Dawn and Bea discussed Bea’s school, who her best friends were, what she liked to read, and were getting around to why dragons were more fun than dinosaurs, but dinosaurs were more scary because they were real, when the check was delivered.

Trent snatched it before Dawn could reach across the table. “My treat. A thank you for letting me enjoy the company of two lovely ladies.”

Bea rolled her eyes. “Daddy, don’t embarrass us.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” Dawn said, smiling warmly at him across the table. “I think your daddy’s pretty sweet.”

“But his farts smell really bad,” Beatrice said in a serious voice at the exact moment the waitress stopped by to take Trent’s credit card, making both Trent and Dawn snort with suppressed laughter.

“Thanks, Beatrice.” Trent nudged his daughter’s shoulder with his arm as their server hurried away. “Now
I’m
embarrassed.”

“Well…it’s true!” Beatrice grinned, obviously pleased with herself.

Trent grinned back at her, too happy the first meeting had gone so well to get on to Beatrice for potty talk at the table. He smiled the entire way out of the restaurant, a smile that only grew wider when Bea let Dawn give her a hug goodbye. He promised to see Dawn that afternoon to prep for their aquarium adventure and slid back into the car, pleased to hear Bea humming happily to herself.

“So, what do you think?” Trent asked as they pulled out of the parking lot. “Didn’t I tell you Miss Dawn was nice?”

“Oh, no!” Bea wailed, sounding so upset that Trent jabbed the brake a little too hard at the stoplight.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, turning in his seat to see a stricken look on Bea’s face.

“I forgot to ask her about ninjas,” Bea said, as if this were a disaster equivalent to forgetting her favorite stuffed animal at McDonald’s. “I wanted to know if she hates them because I hate them now. Almost as much as dolls.”

“That’s okay,” Trent said, laughing with relief as he turned back around. “You can ask her the next time we all hang out.”

“We’re going to hang out again?” Bea asked, sounding more curious than anything else.

“Sure. I thought Miss Dawn could come over for movie night supper one week,” Trent said in a casual voice, trying not betray how much he hoped Bea would be okay with the idea. “We could order pizza and watch that dragon movie you like.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bea said. “That will be fun. She’ll like that. But I want to bring more of my movies to your house. Mom said I could.”

Trent spent the rest of the drive listening to Bea tell him all the movies she was going to bring to his house—along with her keyboard because she sometimes felt musical on Sunday mornings after church, and her paintball gun because her mom said she couldn’t keep it in her room anymore since she accidentally shot her mirror and made blue splatter everywhere—and before he knew it he was pulling up in his ex’s cul-de-sac.

“I had a great time, kiddo,” Trent said, hugging Bea tight on the front porch. “I’ll see you after church tomorrow.”

“You’re not going to take me?” Bea asked.

“No, I’ve got plans, but I’ll be there to meet you outside the door to Sunday School.”