Chapter 198

Sarah POV

We were excited and trying to hide it. We weren’t being very effective.

Last night, I had read yet again from The Little Mermaid.

“She was a strange child, quiet and thoughtful. While her sisters showed delight at the wonderful things which they obtained from the wrecks of vessels, she cared only for her pretty flowers, red like the sun, and a beautiful marble statue. It was the representation of a handsome boy, carved out of pure white stone, which had fallen to the bottom of the sea from a wreck.”

“Mommy?” Chloe had interrupted quietly.

“Yes, honey?”

“I’m ready to show my statue. I have been for a couple days.”

I wanted to demand why she didn’t tell us before this, but I just smiled and nodded. She’d told us when she was ready.

“Should we go see it now?” I asked, fully prepared to go through the bedtime ritual again if need be.

“Tomorrow is fine,” she said. “You can read the part now about how her sisters go see the world.”

“Thank you,” I said. “We’re all looking forward to it. Now, where was I?”

So, this morning, a Sunday, we ate our larger-than-usual breakfast, which included crepes from Chef Rachel and waited as patiently as we could.

Chloe obviously enjoyed being the center of attention, but not in a mean or selfish way. Done right, children thrive from being in control of the moment, and I had to feel we were doing it right as she giggled with her father and shot knowing looks at her sister and gave me an extra-fierce hug.

“OK,” she finally said. “You have to tell me if it’s not good or it should be fixed. It’s for my final grade in art class.”

We all nodded and swore to it. I have to confess that if the whole thing looked like a log giving birth to a turd, I knew I’d love it.

We walked in a procession to the playroom, which more and more was becoming an art and music studio, and on a table was something covered in a large tarp.

“I wanted to wait until the lacquer had set properly,” Chloe said. “I guess I thought there just might be something that went wrong.”

“It’s your artwork,” Zane said before I could. “We’re just happy you’re showing it to us.”

Chloe walked over to the tarp, looked at us, then pulled it off.

Oh. My. Goddess.

I had known, of course, that it would be lovely. I had known it would be talented. I had known it would show an artist well above her age level.

What I hadn’t known was that it would punch me in the stomach, poke at my heart, and leave me breathless.

It was somehow all there in the statue Chloe had made: the flames, the charred poppies, the sorrow of the plants as they died knowing their caretaker, Mavis, would mourn them, and the creeping water that put out the flames too late. In the flames, I saw hatred. In the dying poppies, I saw sorrow and farewell.

And yet beneath it all, in the ground were groups of new seeds eager to be born, their sprouts already pushing against the soil. The fire could do its devilish dance above and reign sorrow on the plants, but the seeds were straining to release their new generation. The flames’ triumph was just a part of the cycle, and ultimately they would end their victory dance amid the new growth.

“Oh, Chloe,” I said as proud tears ran down my cheeks. “It’s magnificent.”

Grace, who was also crying, turned and hugged me, and we just stood there for a moment together, united by the scene before us.

Zane walked over and sat down in front of his daughter.

“Chloe, you know one of the happiest days of my life was when I realized fully that you had been returned to me.”

“You were angry at Mommy,” she accused.

“Only at first, and only because I didn’t understand what was going on. Once I realized she had kept you safe just so the two of you could be a part of my life, I sang praises to the goddess, I promise you.”

Chloe nodded a little pensively.

“Did you work so hard on this because you thought you needed to make me happy to have you back in my life?”

We all held our breath as Chloe thought that over.

“I wanted to make you proud,” she said finally. “But I know you love me.”

“Oh, thank the goddess,” he said, bending over then so he could take her up in his arm. “Oh, thank you, my darling girl. Yes, I love you, and whatever you do and whomever you decide to be, I will always love you.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” Chloe said into his shoulder. “I love you too.”

So, I was pretty openly sobbing at that point. Grace was crying too, so I got down on my knees so we could hug each other.

A while later, after we’d all calmed down, we tried to make comments on how lovely Chloe’s carving was. I said something facile about balance and the circle of life. Zane said something about seeing the true nature of a leader’s perspective. Grace said it was very pretty.

We ended up in the kitchen making our own “high tea,” though Zane asked for once if the crusts could be left on, which made us all laugh a little hysterically. Then he talked about how he would be proud of them if they ended up Pack Alphas or great artists; he just wanted them to be happy.

“I knew I was going to be a Pack Alpha around your age,” he said, “but the thought made me happy, gave me strength and drive to success. That was the important part.”

It was a few minutes after that that Grace turned to me and asked me about my own childhood. Had I known then I wanted to be a teacher?

“Well,” I said, “please remember mine was a human childhood because, well, I’m a human. When I was your age, I was mostly playing with dolls and learning the alphabet.”

“So, how about when you were older?” Zane asked, not letting me off the hook.

“I was lucky enough to be in two human households as a baby who were truly invested in my health and welfare, so I have been told. I know I was a happy child, always looking into things and always playing games. I grew up thinking the world was a good place, and I think that’s the best thing that can happen to a little child.”

“And then?” Grace said, and I could tell she was bracing for bad news.

“Nothing that wasn’t good,” I assured her. “There were so many little kids who came into foster care, and I was a veteran, wasn’t I? I would tell them things would be OK, and sometimes I would need to warn them about not making someone angry or to be careful going to the bathroom in the middle of the night and that it was better not to flush the toilet and risk waking anyone.

“I showed kids my age how to cook breakfast, you know, nothing fancy. I would explain that Mr.—well, that the father didn’t like it when people asked to watch shows on TV when he was watching a game, and how someone else didn’t like it if we were too loud in the morning. I knew I had the advantage of experience, and when new children came along and didn’t know how to keep out of trouble, I would help them.

“And so, one day, I was in school, and the teacher gave us advice about a test that was coming up, about how to approach a standardized, multi-choice test that would affect our future, and I realized I was being a teacher to the other kids and that’s what I wanted to do with our life.”

“But you couldn’t,” Chloe said. “You had to take me in.”

I made a show of sitting in front of her, much like her father had done, and told her as seriously as I could, “I didn’t have to take you in. I wanted to take you in. I wanted you and me to be a family.”

Chloe sniffled, and I hugged her.

“I have had the incredible privilege of being able to choose my life,” I told her. “And this is the life I chose. I’m so happy about it. This is a life a thousand times better than I ever dreamed.”