by Lara Swann
“Something like that, yes.”
“And you’re not a King…are you?” She looks back at me again for a moment, her eyes wide, and I chuckle softly.
“No, sweetie, I’m not. Sorry about that one.”
“Mm…that’s okay.” Maya says magnanimously, her tone still cheerful as she walks along the sidewalk with me, swaying from side to side as she puts one foot directly in front of the other, her arm held out to help balance her.
I smile as I watch, and she’s silent for another few moments, as her concentration seems to shift to maintaining her walking pattern.
“Or…if Mommy was a Queen...that would also make me a princess.” She says it almost idly, still looking down at the path. “She wasn’t a Queen, was she, Daddy?”
I keep walking with her, nothing about my pace changing, but inside I feel like everything grinds to a halt.
Shit. Where did that come from?
I have no idea whether her casual comment is exactly what it seems - just an idle continuation of her slightly determined thought processes - or the result of something far more complicated bubbling away inside her.
Does she miss her Mom? Does she think about her much? Is she starting to want to question things? Has she processed what happened at all?
Damn it.
I’ve been many things in my life so far, but a child psychologist isn’t one of them.
Maya looks around at me, her expression expectant as she waits for an answer - and since I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do in a situation like this, I keep it simple. I give her one.
“Ah…no, sweetie. She wasn’t a Queen either.”
Even if I skew the question enough that a celebrity - or queen - of Hollywood might count, it would still be stretching things a bit too far to claim that’s what she had been. She was getting there, maybe. With the last gig, maybe—but no.
I shake my head, and squeeze Maya’s shoulder again.
“She would have liked to be, though.” I add, the words slipping out before I think too much about them.
“Of course.” Maya says, not seeming to notice my internal whirlwind of thoughts. “Everyone would like to be, Daddy.”
“Yeah, maybe they would.” I answer automatically, my mind still lost in everything else.
She’s quiet for a while longer, and I start to worry about what might really be going on in my little girl’s mind, unable to tell whether she’s dwelling on things, or has totally moved on to some other shiny train of thought, the way she often does. When she speaks again, it’s not her Mom that she returns to.
“If I marry a Prince, then I’d be a Princess, won’t I?”
I blink. “Ah, yes. Yes, you would.”
She nods, almost decisively, then looks back at me.
“What about if you marry a Princess, Daddy? Then I’d be a Princess too, right?”
“Um…I don’t know.” My head is already spinning from everything else, and I find myself falling into the familiar feeling of not being able to quite keep up with my too-curious little girl. “Maybe.”
The way royal titles work isn’t exactly a specialty of mine - though, given that, I might be starting to regret how often I call her princess.
“What about if you marry a fairy princess?”
“I…what?” I look over at her.
“A fairy princess!” She says emphatically, and some small part of me relaxes as I realize we’ve stepped far enough out of reality that I’m not actually responsible for knowing all the answers anymore.
I laugh, giving her a crooked smile as I ruffle the top of her head. She hates me doing that when it’s tied back in a braid - which is most of the time these days - but it’s become too much of a habit to stop.
“A fairy princess, huh? Well, I’m not sure—”
“What about just a fairy? Not a princess one?”
“Well, isn’t a fairy totally different? I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t suddenly be a fairy just because I married one—”
“But they’re magic, Daddy! What if the magic makes me into a fairy?”
“Huh.” I say, pausing to consider it. “Well, you have me there. You might be right about that—”
“We should ask one!”
I laugh again, pulling her into me and disrupting the walking-balancing-act she’s got going on. She doesn’t try to push away though, throwing one arm as far around me as it will go and giving up the walking to lean into me.
“That’s a good idea, but I’m not sure where we’re going to find one of those—”
“That woman this morning…she looked like a fairy! That’s why I gave her the fairy cupcake! What about her?!”
This time I really do pause - physically as well as mentally - turning to look at Maya beside me, because I know exactly which woman she’s talking about. She’s crossed my mind more than once today, actually.
Kelsey.
There was just something about her…I’m not sure what exactly but I can still hear that full, musical laugh in my head, the sound of it as rich and open as her expression.
Maybe it was the obvious enthusiasm and interest in her gaze - even at that time in the morning, when the only people who wander into my store are just looking for a quick coffee fix. She didn’t even order coffee.
Or the fact that she’s one of the few women who didn’t immediately drop certain hints - or hell, open invitations.
Not that I generally mind that - everyone I’ve met has seemed perfectly good-natured about it all - but it makes a change. In fact, she almost seemed more interested in Maya than me. That could be it, too, of course. I won’t pretend I’m not a sucker for anyone who makes such an effort to engage my little girl - and obviously seemed to enjoy it, too. I was almost envious that she seemed to do a better job than I do half the time, and more naturally. I might be trying damn hard - hell, I’ve even opened a fairytale cupcake store - but I’ve still had to work at being able to relate to and indulge my little girl, and sometimes I don’t know how well I’m doing with it.
Whether I can ever make up for what she doesn’t have…
“Daddy?” Maya tugs at my arm, looking confused about why we’ve stopped, and I bring myself out of those thoughts.
“Sorry, sweetie. I was away with the fairies.” I give her another crooked grin and Maya giggles, leaning closer to me again.
“Yesss…but what about the fairy woman?”
I have to bite the inside of my cheek not to laugh, and my initial instinct - to talk to her about being careful what we say about another person, especially their appearance - fades as I hug her closer to me, my arm around her shoulder.
“She did look a bit like a fairy, huh?” I say, thinking back to the morning and reluctantly admitting Maya has a point.
The long, flowing brown skirt that swished at her feet as she walked, combined with a long-sleeved green top that dipped down to reveal delicate collarbones and just a hint of the swell of generous curves beneath, with the material plaited and interlaced over them…yes, the slightly hippy-earthy feeling of it did make it seem like she could have stepped straight out of some woodland grove.
No wonder Maya liked her.
“But we probably shouldn’t ask her about it.” I add, not wanting to start something that I can just see spinning wildly out of control.
“Why not?”
“Well…we don’t know she’s a fairy. It’s not always nice to guess things about people based on the way they look.”
Hah! And I managed to get that in too. Score one for parenting points today.
“But if we asked her, then we’d know.” Maya says, in a voice that’s far too reasonable for a discussion about fairies.
I subtly massage my temples, and start us walking again as I decide to give up for today. I’m usually good with these things, but it’s been a long day of discussions like this and my head is starting to hurt.
“That’s true.” I say, squeezing her shoulder again and leaving it at that.
Somehow, if Maya actually does ask Kelsey if she’s a fairy, I doubt she’s going to be too offended about it. And hey, Maya’s right, she did kind of look like one. Gorgeous chestnut, wavy hair…big green eyes…
I shake my head at the direction of my thoughts. I really must be tired today.
“So…are you going to marry her? If she’s a fairy?”
“What?” I’d somehow forgotten that’s how this whole thing started. “Um, no, Maya, I don’t think so. I’m not going to marry anyone.”
“But she’s the only fairy or princess we knoooow.” Maya complains, kicking at the ground, and I have to stop myself from laughing again - partly at her antics, but also with relief. I’m glad this is still about that and not suddenly about marriage - the last thing I want right now is a ‘why not’ question.
“Yeah, it’s tough, isn’t it kid?”
She sighs dramatically, scuffing her shoes against the ground for a little while longer before she finally crosses her arms and ‘humphs’ decisively.
“Well, fine then. I guess I’m just going to have to marry a Prince.”
I look over at her, almost cautiously, as I let myself start to wonder whether we might have actually come to the end of this rambling conversation.
Several hours earlier than usual, too.
“Okay, sweetie.” In an unlikely attempt to encourage that, I bring us back to the start of it too. “Does that mean I can keep on calling you princess?”
She tilts her head toward me, still looking vaguely put out that I’m not going to marry Kelsey, before nodding imperiously.
“Yes.”
I deliberately hide my smile. Right now, she has no idea how much it suits her.
She can’t keep that look up for long though, giving me a little smile instead and reaching her arms up with her lips puckered in the way she always does when she wants to kiss me but can’t reach. This time I let my smile show as I lift her up, putting a little bounce in it so that she squeals on the way up, before planting a kiss on my cheek. I don’t let her go, either, holding her against my side in a way that she’s really much too big for these days. It’s worth it for the occasional times she lets me.
Even better, this time she wraps her arms around my neck, too.
“I like it when you call me princess.” She finally admits.
Well, thank goodness for that.
I smile, turning to kiss her forehead. “I like it, too.”
After a few moments of walking, she starts squirming and I put her down again, letting her take my hand and lead me along the path. We’re off the main street now - and in fact, most streets altogether - following a small path alongside open fields, with rugged woodland off in the distance behind. I breathe in deeply, enjoying the fresh air and let the countryside surrounding me bring me its usual peace.
That’s why I moved us all the way out here. Sure, living in a little town like this certainly seems to have its quirks, and it couldn’t be more different from living back in LA, but that’s exactly what I was looking for.
Different. New. A place to breathe again.
It might have been a little crazy to come all the way out here to the middle of Oregon, simply because hiking through these national parks had been one of the best vacations of my life, years ago now, and I’d wondered ever since what it would be like to live in the country.
But maybe we needed something crazy.
Of course, I’m not sure I quite realized just how much the idea of community would matter to people here - but I should have. It makes sense, in a small place like this. And it’s not like I mind, exactly - I’ve had more people stop by the store than I could have imagined, buying cupcakes simply to support it in a gesture I’m still getting used to - but I won’t deny it’s a little bit alien to me. But maybe that will be a good thing, too.
Community.
That could be good for Maya.
She hums quietly to herself for the rest of the walk home, seemingly content with the mental acrobatics she’s already put me through, but that only gives me more time to get lost in my thoughts - and I can’t help dwelling on our conversation.
Her Mom. Marriage.
Is she thinking about all that? Does she want to talk about it? Does she want me to get married - or find someone to marry?
That’s a terrifying thought.
And I have no idea. It’s impossible to tell whether it’s all just transient eight-year-old thoughts, or something deeper that’s bothering her, or a hint that might come back again and again.
I try not to worry about it, but I can’t help wondering what she really thinks about everything, deep down. And whether she’d tell me. I hope she would. I think we have a pretty great relationship, but…how do you ever really know?
It circles around in my mind, the doubt and second guessing rising up as it always does when I have too much time to think - and just before we turn off the path we’re walking down and onto the road that leads to our house, I call out to her.
“Maya…”
She turns around, then pauses as she realizes I’ve stopped. I kneel down in front of her, taking her hands in mine, and search her face.
“What do you think…about moving here? So far?” I ask, my voice gentle. “I know it happened quite fast, but it’s important to me what you think. I want you to be happy too, sweetie.”
I know she was making friends back in LA, a totally different house and environment…sure, she hadn’t been in school long, but it was enough…I did this for both of us, and I don’t want her to be silently wishing we never moved.
She looks at me carefully, her eyes turning serious as she seems to consider me as much as I’m considering her, before nodding.
“I’m happy, Daddy. I promise. I’ve got you, and the cupcakes, and…and this is fun.” She grins at me, then steps in to give me a tight hug. “This is our adventure, Daddy. I like adventures.”
My heart swells in my chest and for a long moment, I just hold her close. Sometimes, I’m not sure who is looking after who here. Maya always seems to know what to say and when I need to hear it. Without her…well, I don’t want to think what might have become of me all those years ago.
“I do too, kiddo.” I whisper in her ear. “I do too.”
* * *
The doorbell goes just as I’ve definitely convinced myself it’s time for Maya to go to bed - no matter what she says. Of course, convincing her isn’t quite so easy - which is why it’s taken me this long to work up the strength to try. It’s well past her bedtime.
I look over at where she’s lying on her stomach, coloring in front of the TV and grumble under my breath. I’m not sure whether that’s saved by the bell, or an interruption that’s going to set me back another twenty minutes of building up the willpower to argue with my too-clever little girl.
“After I see who that is.” I tell her as I stand up. “It’s definitely bedtime, okay?”
She looks over at me, her eyes wide and too innocent. “Okay, Daddy.”
Sure. She never has a problem with after, or later, or soon. It’s just now that has her wheedling and pleading.
I don’t even know who it could be. I don’t actually know anyone in town yet, not properly. I’ve had a few invitations to things, but I’m not entirely sure what’s behind them so I haven’t actually accepted anything yet. Not to mention, there’s all the boxes stacked up in the spare room that still need to be unpacked, whenever I finally get done with figuring out all the intricacies of setting up my own business.
Excuses, yeah - but good ones.
So as far as I’m aware, no one even knows I live here.
Which means I’m more than a little surprised to find the woman from earlier this morning standing on my doorstep - Kelsey, I remember without even trying to - the one Maya was talking about earlier.
Who looks a bit like a fairy.
After that conversation on the way home, I have to stop myself from smiling at just how apt it seems. The skirt and top are just as I
remembered them and she’s short, too, which I didn’t quite notice from behind the counter. There’s a charm hanging from around her neck and a few twisted leather bracelets on her wrist, only adding to the impression.
“Oh.” Kelsey looks up at me with a similar surprise etched on her face.
“Hello again.” I say, giving her an easy smile, already amused by the exchange.
“Sorry, I—I wasn’t expecting it to be you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Who were you expecting?”
Last time I checked, this was definitely my house. And she came around here.
“Someone else.” Kelsey laughs with that beautiful musical voice again, and even though I’m not quite sure I get the joke, it works its way inside me and makes me want to join in anyway. I resist the urge, because I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a joke for me, and she gestures to the house next door with a friendly smile. “I live over there and just noticed today that someone had moved in here while I was away, so I thought I’d stop by and welcome you to the neighborhood.”
She holds a bottle of wine out to me with a smile. “But since you’ve just moved into town, too, I guess the welcome has even more meaning - so here, I always find opening a bottle of wine in a new place makes me feel right at home.”
I smile back - it’s impossible not to - and take the bottle with genuine appreciation. It feels a little weird, having a neighbor who notices you’ve moved in and comes over just to say ‘hi’, but I guess I should have expected that too. And there is something nice about it. Maybe I’ll get used to this small town living after all.
“Thank you.” I say, with real warmth.
“It’s a good one.” Kelsey adds, nodding to the bottle. “Pinot Noir from just outside McMinnville - my Uncle has a vineyard there. About the only one of us to ever leave town.”
I laugh, looking down at the bottle even though the label won’t mean anything to me at all, and feeling slightly amused at the random information people here seem to volunteer - about themselves and their families, mainly.
“I’ll make sure to appreciate it properly then.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Oh, don’t do any of that. He’s not a fancy kind of guy, my Uncle, would much rather you just drank it.”