by Toni Shiloh
She rested her head against his shoulder. “Even though I messed up bath time?”
His heart twisted at the insecurity in her voice. “I thought that was Faith and Joy?”
“But I left the bubbles out.”
“And one day I’ll leave something out too. That’s parenting.”
“No wonder you always look exhausted.”
“Hey.” He gently shook her.
She laughed, straightening up to curl her feet underneath her.
“You just wait. Come Wednesday, when I get back home, we’ll see how pretty you look after kid duty.”
“Are you trying to scare me?” There was a hint of sass in her voice.
There was a comfort in knowing every nuance. He thought back to her questions. “I’m leaving you home with a two-year-old and a three-year-old. You should be shaking in those...” He snuck a look at the feet peeking out from underneath her thigh. “Socks.”
Her chin tipped up and a look of steel entered her eyes. “We’ll be just fine. You’ll see.”
“Okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” No one had warned him. His mom just said congratulations and sent baby clothes every few months.
“Humph.” She shifted on the couch cushion and made a shushing motion. “Start the movie, naysayer.”
“That’s Mr. Naysayer to you.”
They both laughed as he pressed Play.
Lord, thank You for this easiness between us. It helps relieve the awkwardness of the whole arrangement. Because at the end of the movie, he’d go to his room and his wife—Omar shook his head—would go to hers. Oh yeah, Lord, this is all very strange.
Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favour of the Lord. The verse blazed through his mind like fireworks. How was he supposed to feel about that? Trinity wasn’t Christine and could never take her place. But did that mean he couldn’t live a happy life with his best friend? So what if their marriage wasn’t conventional—it could still be a bright spot.
He hoped.
He shifted, trying to focus on the movie and shove life’s questions to the back corner of his mind. Except he couldn’t ignore Trinity’s presence. Couldn’t ignore the gratitude that filled him knowing she was here and he was no longer alone.
Thank You for friends, Lord.
Chapter Six
Trinity stared up at the ceiling, blinking the sleep from her eyes. Her bed was so comfortable, and sleep beckoned once more, but today was her first full day as Mrs. Young and stepmom to Faith and Joy. She couldn’t succumb to the comfort of her blanket and pillows.
Lord God, please let today go well.
She rolled to her side and then sat up, stretching her arms above her head. She needed to get dressed for the day. Thankfully, she’d showered the night before to give herself more time this morning to prepare breakfast. Hopefully everyone would appreciate her meal.
Grabbing her cell phone, she pulled up the app that monitored her blood sugar. A soft smile creased her face at her numbers. Within normal range. Only question was, should she fix a breakfast they could all eat or make one everyone assumed all diabetics ate? It would avoid judgment like Omar’s with the cake last night. There was so much people didn’t know about the disease. Having Type 1 was completely different from having Type 2. As long as she ate a relatively normal diet, just like everyone else, she was fine—well, with the help of her insulin.
The kitchen was quiet and empty when she walked in. Omar always drank coffee in the morning, so she’d count that as her first wifely duty. She walked toward the old-fashioned coffeemaker, shaking her head. Why couldn’t he have some trendy kitchen appliance? She knew it wasn’t his style but counting out scoops was a chore. She would need to find where she put her fancy pod appliance.
After assessing the refrigerator’s contents, she laid out ingredients for French toast and bacon. Once the bread sat warming in the oven, she turned on the skillet. After she got the girls up, maybe she’d make a little fruit salad. She vaguely remembered seeing some strawberries and blueberries.
The sound of footsteps broke through her concentration, so she turned.
Omar appeared, holding Joy in his arms and Faith by his side. “Morning, Trin.”
Her nerves frayed at the sight. “Good morning. I was going to get them up.” Why couldn’t things run as planned?
“No need.” He offered her a smile as he sat them in their high chairs.
This time she was a little slow. Next time she’d wake the girls first before making breakfast.
“Whatcha cooking?” Omar stepped next to her, and she jolted.
She wasn’t used to being around other people so early. “French toast and turkey bacon.”
“Turkey bacon?”
“You won’t notice a difference.”
“Okay.” He smiled.
“Have a seat and I’ll bring it to you.”
Thankfully she’d already programmed her insulin dosage so she could sit down right away with Omar and the girls. Trinity placed a plate in front of Omar and then walked back to get one each for the girls.
“This looks great, Trinity.” Omar’s lips quirked, bringing out the crinkles that framed his eyes.
“Thank you.” She put a slice of toast on her plate and some bacon. A quick glance at her phone told her that her blood sugar numbers were still good. Trinity turned to Faith, gesturing to the cut-up bread on her plate. “Eat up. Aren’t you hungry?”
Faith knew how to use a fork and Trinity had even remembered to grab the kids’ utensils.
Faith poked at the syrup-covered bread with her plastic spork. “Yucky.”
“Try it.” Trinity did her best to offer a look of encouragement.
“No.”
Trinity bit the inside of her cheek, slowly exhaling. “I promise you, it’s good.”
“Good.” Joy chimed in, bits of food flying from her mouth.
Trinity calmly wiped off chunks of bread from her arm and met Faith’s no-nonsense expression. “Joy likes it.”
“Sticky.”
“That’s the syrup, sweetie.”
Faith’s brow furrowed and her head dipped down into a glower. “I don’t like s’up.”
Trinity’s gaze flew to Omar’s. His eyes widened as he chewed on a piece of bacon, then he shrugged. “Nancy always made their breakfasts.”
“She never made French toast?”
“No, they usually had fruit, I think.”
“She only fed them fruit?” Trinity tried hard to keep the look of confusion and any hint of judgment from her face, but it was so very hard. Normally her face told all of her secrets.
Omar tipped his shoulder up in question. “I’m pretty sure she kept to Christine’s food routine.”
“What do you mean?” Her heart thudded in her chest. “How did Christine feed Faith?” Faith had been one when Christine had passed. Hadn’t that been a strictly liquid diet?
“Well, I mean, Christine had ideas of what a kid should eat once able. She wanted our kids to follow a certain diet. Nancy made sure to carry out her wishes.”
“Which was what, exactly?” How could Trinity institute something she had no knowledge of?
“Pure food. Clean food.” At her blank look he continued, setting his bacon down. “Think the food pyramid on steroids.”
She raised her eyebrow, gesturing toward his bacon.
“Oh no, that was her thing. I’m a firefighter. I need bacon.”
Trinity chuckled, releasing the tension that had her shoulders heading for her ears. “Do you want me to feed them fruit for breakfast?”
Omar took a moment before replying. “Yes. I’m sure there are some kids’ cookbooks around here. I think Nancy left them in one of the cabinets.” He grabbed a stack of French toast from the serving plate and drowned them in syrup.
&nb
sp; Cookbooks. She’d have to look for those later. Right now, she needed Faith to eat. “Do you like bananas?” she asked Faith, spying some near the fridge.
“Yucky.” She shook her head, frown still in place.
Trinity sighed and got up. One kid was apparently happy with her calorie-laden breakfast. The other would stick to the regime her grandmother had put in place. She rubbed her forehead. It’s not that bad. What kid doesn’t need fruit? But the thought didn’t keep her from feeling inadequate.
Apples. Oranges. Strawberries. Pears. Apparently, fruit was a staple in the Young household.
She turned, asking Faith if she liked any of those things.
“No!” Faith hurled her spork across the room and wailed. “Mimi!”
At the heartbreaking cry for their deceased grandmother, Trinity rushed forward, but Omar picked Faith up by the time she made it to the table. He rubbed his daughter’s back and rocked her in his arms. Trinity looked at Joy and noticed her lip began to tremble.
No, no, no.
Rushing to Joy, Trinity bent down, smiling at her. “Is your breakfast good?”
“Faith sad?” Her lip quivered, but the tears remained hidden.
“Yes.”
“I sad?”
How was she supposed to answer that? “Do you want a hug?”
Joy nodded, flinging her arms upward. Trinity unhooked the high chair and lifted Joy into her arms. The little girl wrapped her chubby arms around Trinity’s neck and sighed. “I not sad.”
Trinity’s heart turned over in her chest and a deep feeling of love swelled within. “I’m glad you’re not sad. Do you want to finish your breakfast?”
Joy popped up, lifting her head from Trinity’s chest. “I done.”
Trinity glanced at her plate. Empty. Huh. “Want some banana?”
“Nanner!” Joy clapped, her chubby cheeks scrunched up with delight.
Trinity placed her back in the chair, locking the toddler in safely. She wouldn’t make the mistake of leaving them unattended and able to roam free. Or to fall and injure themselves. Passing Omar, she asked if all was well with her eyes. He nodded yes as he strapped Faith back in.
While she cut Joy’s banana into manageable pieces, Omar came up to her. He leaned against the counter, facing the girls.
“Sorry. Faith has always been picky at dinner. I guess I never noticed her moods at breakfast. Nancy usually ran the show.”
How couldn’t he know? It seemed like something a parent would realize. Then again, Omar had been oblivious to a lot of things since Christine’s passing. Grief had aged her friend and worn him down.
She straightened her shoulders and squeezed his hand. “No worries. I’ll figure out what she wants. Do you have to leave soon?” She wanted to congratulate herself on the neutral tone of her voice.
For reasons she couldn’t explain, hurt had taken up residence in her heart when Omar informed her he’d be returning to work today. He hadn’t wasted any time in going back to the station. Then again, they needed his paycheck to survive. He’d been off since Nancy had passed, so she really couldn’t ask him to take more time off. She shoved her contradictory feelings aside.
“Yeah. My shift starts at noon. I’ll be home tomorrow at the same time.”
Trinity nodded. It would be interesting to see the effects of his schedule. She always knew the Bluebonnet Fire Department had twenty-four-hour shifts on and twenty-four hours off, but she’d never been the wife of a firefighter until now.
A wife. It sounded so strange, false even, since theirs wasn’t a normal arrangement. Her mind flashed back to that day in white. And the missing groom.
“I also work Saturday.” Omar broke through her thoughts. “So I won’t get off until church is over.”
“Will you be able to eat afterward?” The church always had a potluck after service.
“Yeah, I can leave the station and go straight there.”
“Sounds good.” She smiled, letting him know all was well. “Go finish your breakfast.”
“All right.” His eyes moved back and forth as he studied her. “Faith likes strawberries.”
“So, she lied earlier?”
“I think she’s just upset.”
“But you didn’t tell her not to lie.”
“Trinity,” he huffed, “she’s three, and it’s early.”
Not too early to teach kids. Still, an inner sense cautioned her to bide her time. She’d be home with the girls all day. If Faith did something wrong, Trinity could tell her the importance of doing right. Surely little changes here and there would help them all adjust to the new arrangement.
She brought the bananas to Joy and then set a plate of strawberries in front of Faith. The three-year-old huffed, folding her arms across her chest and turning in the chair so her back was to Trinity.
At-ti-tude. She’d heard the term threenager from some of the church ladies who had younger kids. Now she knew what they meant. Instead of picking a fight, Trinity calmly ate and asked Joy and Omar questions here and there.
Slowly but surely, Faith began to eat the strawberries, sneaking a wary gaze at Trinity every now and again. She wanted to laugh at the suspicion in Faith’s gaze, but she was just glad the little girl finally ate something. Hopefully it wouldn’t take them a long time to get used to Trinity’s presence as an all-day affair.
* * *
“Something you wanna share, Young?”
Omar looked over the refrigerator door at his colleague. “About what?”
Jeremy Rider leaned against the fire department’s kitchen counter near the fridge. His arms were crossed, and his eyebrows were elevated as he stared at Omar skeptically.
“Seems you had a little fun without telling anyone.” He smirked.
“What in the world are you talking about, Rider?” Omar straightened to his full height. The younger man always had something smart to say, and he wasn’t in a mood for it.
There had been this odd tension between him and Trinity before he’d left for work. Having lunch seemed to alleviate some of it. Still, Trinity had seemed withdrawn, but he hadn’t had time to find out why. Maybe the discord was making him extra prickly where Rider was concerned.
“That ring on your finger.”
Heat flushed the back of his neck. “Oh.”
“Oh?” Rider’s voice went up an octave. “Just oh?”
“I got,” Omar cleared his throat, “married.”
“Wait one minute.” Rider held up his hands and then turned his head toward the open bay. “Y’all get up here.”
Great. Did he have to explain the circumstances of his marriage to the whole crew or could he just mention he married Trinity? They hadn’t really discussed what to tell anyone outside of their family.
Footsteps pounded against the stairs until everyone—his captain included—filled the kitchen and dining area.
“What’s all this racket, Rider?” The captain squared his hands on his hips, a look of irritation covering his dark brown face.
“Cap, get this. Young got married.” Rider hooked a thumb Omar’s way.
The captain’s gaze swiveled to his. Omar resisted the desire to take a step back. It was like having your father glower at you after you’d done something without his permission. Not that he needed the captain’s permission. But still, Cap looked angry.
“This true?”
“Yes, sir. Got married yesterday.”
Low whistles and exclamations rent the air.
“Yesterday?”
“Yes, sir. I figured you didn’t want me to do that today.”
The captain’s lips flattened at Omar’s quip. “Who did you marry, Young?”
He gulped. This is where it got tricky. “Trinity, sir.”
The captain wiped a hand over his mouth, eyes bugging out. He shifted under the
light, the rays hitting his bald head with a glare.
Omar adverted his eyes, only to see knowing glances and high fives passing between some of the crew. “What?” He held out his hands. “I’m not allowed to get married again?”
“My office, Young.” The captain straightened and pivoted.
Omar glanced over his shoulder, shaking his head at Rider.
The firefighter gave a sheepish shrug of his shoulder. “I didn’t realize he’d flip like that. Sorry, man.” He clapped Omar on the shoulder and sauntered off.
Only an hour into shift and Rider was already causing trouble. Omar headed for the captain’s office, wishing he could avoid the visit. As he jogged down the stairs, he sent up a quick prayer for help before double knocking on Captain Simms’s door.
“Enter.”
Omar walked in, shutting the door behind him. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Have a seat, Young.”
He stifled a sigh and did as ordered. On a good day, Captain Simms was a friend. Today, it had yet to be determined.
The captain took his time stacking paperwork and straightening his desk before finally looking Omar in the face. Cap’s black eyes were dull with fatigue. He interlaced his fingers, sliding them behind his head. “You married Trinity, huh?”
“I did.”
“You don’t love her.” The captain rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you do the way a friend does, but not like a husband.”
If he squirmed in his seat, would it release the tension coiling inside? “Is that a question?”
“Of course not. I deal in facts, as should you.”
“Trinity knows where I stand.”
“Does she?” The captain’s low baritone was contemplative. “Is she home with the girls?”
“Yes.”
“Will she be returning back to work in the fall?”
“She was laid off.”
“Huh,” the captain grunted, stroking his mustache. “Why don’t you go on home.”
Confusion filled him. “Today’s not my off day.”
“You just got married.”
“It’s not like we’re on a honeymoon, Captain. Plus, I just used bereavement leave.” Omar jerked back as Captain Simms squinted his eyes.
