“You’re very pretty.” She drops my hand and my mother’s, then gently cups my face, staring wondrously into my eyes.
Gage gasps.
Dropping my hands at my sides, I allow the girl to search my face with her eyes.
“I’ve seen you before.” She states, in a near whisper. “You’re an angel.” Her face is serious, as she makes her statement. I’ve never seen this beautiful little princess before, but she seems to think she’s met or seen me before. Hum…..
I kneel for what seems like forever and her tiny warm hands never leave my cheeks. It’s like she’s trying to place something in her mind, as her face scrunches up, deep in thought.
“You’re very pretty too.” I finally compliment, and she smiles wide and giggles. “I love your dress, I wish I had a dress that lovely.” I add.
Emma giggles louder and blushes, dropping her hands from my face.
I turn my gaze to look at my mom who’s staring starry eyed at us and Gage whose eyes are nearly bugging out of his head watching me and his precious daughter. I guess we kind of freaked them out. I’m guessing Emma doesn’t act this way with everybody.
Standing, I nervously smooth my dress down my sides and Emma takes my hand, holding it. I guess she’s decided she likes me. Her other hand reaches out and steals my mom’s.
“Daddy, we’re good. You can go now.”
Gage hasn’t spoken a word and he can’t stop staring.
“Daddy….” She whines.
“Sorry honey, okay, daddy will be back in an hour.” He says and looks to my mom who nods. Then he turns and out the chiming doors he goes.
For the next hour Emma, my mom and I, make a small pink, red and white carnation arrangement. Emma stands on a step ladder in her pink dress and helps place the flowers into the vase. She’s quite the little helper. The entire time she’s been chatting away about girly stuff. She loves My Little Pony and makeup. She gushes about how great of a daddy she has, and the women at the bar seemed to be correct about her mother. Emma doesn’t care for her. She explained that when she visits they don’t do a thing and her mommy doesn’t talk to her. As Emma finishes up with her pretty arrangement, my mother grabs my arm and tugs me to the side of the room.
“Why did you fail to mention working with a five year old?” I chastise, for not telling me, giving her a firm expression.
“It never came up.” She shrugs. “Gage brings Emma in on the weekends when he needs an hour to himself. I offered when he came in once and Emma couldn’t stop glancing at the flowers and asking questions. He needed to leave to get groceries and I told him I’d watch her. That was six months ago. Since then, she’s been my weekend buddy.” She explains as we both keep an eye on Emma out of the corner of our eyes.
The door chimes and Gage comes strolling in. Emma’s face lights up when she sees her father and excitedly exclaims, “Look daddy!” Pointing at her creation.
“That’s great baby, but we got to get you home and into the bath. Daddy’s got a long day of work tomorrow.”
Emma frowns, sadly stating. “I have to stay at Shelly’s late.”
Nodding, he unhappily replies, “Yes, baby,” and comes around the counter and picks her up, wrapping her legs around his side. His arm anchors her safely against his body, as his free hand grabs her flowers.
Gage thanks us and Emma waves goodbye. They leave and my suddenly heart aches to see them go. I really love that little girl. She has a personality that crawls inside and nests in your heart.
“Why’s she sad about Monday?” I turn and ask my mother, as the front door comes to a full close.
“Monday’s and Wednesday’s Gage works late. Emma has to stay at the sitters until bedtime.”
I don’t know what washes over me. One second I’m standing in my mother’s floral shop and the next I am charging out the front door, bare foot, running down the sidewalk towards Gage’s SUV, yelling, “Wait! Wait!” My arms flailing in the air.
Gage shuts the rear passenger door and smiles as he sees me running. I come to a halt on the curb next to his truck.
“Can I help you, Lex?” He’s laughing at me now and I frown.
“Does Emma like going to the sitters?” Out of breath I ask. My hands on my hips, my chest rising and falling, trying to catch my breath.
“No. Why?” his voice and scrunched face, tells me he’s confused at my question.
“Let me take her. I’ll watch her on Monday’s and Wednesday’s when you have to work late. She can stay with me.” I huff out. Apparently yoga helps with some of my stamina but not my running ability. I hate to run.