Tie a Knot & Hang On

An army of feet bustled down the hallway loudly enough to lift my face out of the pillow. A voice chirped incoherently and vanished down the stairs with the sound of panting and claws scraping on hardwood. I propped myself up on my elbows and rubbed my face, sighing as I tried to discern the time. Light poured out of the sheer curtains. I was alone in the bed, tangled up in the mass of sheets. Perhaps it wasn’t as early as I’d thought. The blinking clock on the nightstand confirmed this—8:15. It was exactly fifteen minutes after eight, and as everyone in the house knew, the kids were allowed to come in the room after eight. Someone must’ve woken Dean up. Usually, it was Lucy.

Winston, Dean’s ever-faithful pit bull, was curled up beside me, head resting on the small of my back. His blue eyes blinked when I shifted away from him. He knew as well as I did that it was time to go downstairs. It would’ve been incredibly unfair to leave Dean alone with two children and our year-old twins, even if sleep seemed like a much better alternative. Whimpering, Winston scooted closer.

“I know, I don’t want to go down either,” I yawned. Blinking, I tilted my head and faced the dog. “What do you think we should do?”

Winston whined, laying his head down on my stomach.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. Don’t guilt me,” I scoffed. I waited for a moment to see if his answer would change, but it didn’t. Groaning, I pushed my way out of the sheets, pulling on my clothes we’d thrown on the floor last night. “Fine,” I relented. “But you owe me, Winston. You need to start picking a side.”

Winston slipped off the bed and joined me coming down the stairs, entering the kitchen, where my gorgeous husband was in the middle of fixing breakfast. The twins sat in their respective high chairs. Their tiny hands smacked the surface, trying to grasp the cheerios scattered across the trays. Travis, our oldest, sat at the island counter in front of a bowl of cereal and milk.

“Morning, Mum!” he exclaimed, his head turned over his shoulder to face me. As he shouted, Dean’s head tilted back to look at me with a soft smile. Trav’s brown eyes narrowed a little. “Mum, no offense, but your hair is a mess.”

“Oh, and you’re one to talk?” I laughed, ruffling his mousy brown hair as I passed by. I walked right up to Dean, standing beside him over the counter top as he sliced strawberries into a bowl of cheerios—Lucy’s usual breakfast. “Morning, babe,” I said softly. Leaning over, I pressed my lips to his cheek.

Travis groaned loudly from his seat. “Ew, gross, Mum,” he complained.

A smirk appeared on Dean’s face before he turned, grabbed my tightly by the waist, and kissed me on the lips. Despite our son’s protests, I slipped my arms over his shoulders, and when we parted, we pulled away with amused smiles on ours faces. Glancing around, I did a headcount. Had to make sure everyone was on track. Dean and I were due to be at work within the hour. If everyone wasn’t ready, we’d never get there on time, and well, the presidents of the globe couldn’t exactly be late. My eyes drifted over the children. Travis at the counter. Rowan and Reagan in their chairs. One was missing.

“Babe, where’s Lucy?” I asked Dean. “Didn’t she wake you up?”

Dean shook his head. “No, I thought she woke you up.”

Odd. Usually Lucy was the first one springing out of bed for breakfast. “No,” I replied. Paused to take a breath. “I’ll go get her.”

Back up the stairs I went, striding quietly across the wooden floors until I was knocking gently on a white door covered in crayon drawings of stick figures, hearts, and rainbows. No answer. I wished I could’ve let her sleep. She must’ve been exhausted if she was still in bed, but we had a schedule to be on. She could always nap when we dropped her off with Avery and my aunt. I cracked the door open into a room almost entirely painted pink from floor to ceiling, ridded with bookshelves, dolls, and stuffed animals. A small body was bundled up in a mass of rose-colored blankets. Blonde curls were splayed across the pillow, but the head they came from was hidden within the body of furry, brown teddy bear.

“Lucy,” I called softly, and my daughter stirred in her sleep. Her feet shifted under the sheets, rustling around in the bed a little. I sat on the edge of the mattress, gingerly running my hand over her head. “It’s time to wake up, love. Everybody’s already started breakfast.”

“I don’t wanna,” she half-mumbled, half-whined. Quite typical behavior a four-year-old, but strange for Lucy, who was normally quite docile and compliant. Never put up much of a fuss, unlike Travis.

“Why not?” I asked her, speaking softer as she squeezed her stuffed animal.

“My head hurts,” she admitted quietly.

Poor thing. I scooped her up in my arms and gently pulled her out from under the covers, sitting her in my lap and cradling her. Still clinging to the bear, she dropped her head against my shoulder. “You poor, poor dear,” I cooed, kissing her forehead. “Do you want to see a doctor?”

Lucy shook her head. “Medicine, please,” she murmured.

“I think we can do that,” I told her, smiling and trying to lift her spirits, but it didn’t seem to be helping. Hopefully, I could give her children’s pain reliever, and she’d enjoy the rest of her day. Seeing Uncle Mumbles always put her in better moods, anyway.

“Thank you, Mummy,” she said as I stood up.

“You’re very welcome, love.”

By the time we made it downstairs, Travis had already gone to get changed for the day. Who knew what he’d pull out of his closet today, since he was exercising this newfound independence and wearing whatever he pleased. So far, he hadn’t done anything to warrant a call from his kindergarten teacher, but I certainly wasn’t understanding the combination of a bucket hat, yellow rain boots, shorts, and a denim vest. That’d been yesterday’s choice, so I was curious as to what he’d come up with now. Dean and I often joked it wouldn’t be long before he was using the curtains as a toga.

Dean was cleaning up the remains of breakfast while the twins babbled and smiled at each other from their chairs. It was hard to believe they were half-way to a year. Felt like just yesterday they could barely open their eyes. Trav and Lucy were getting older too. Hell, we all were. Ten years ago, I never would’ve thought I’d be here. Never would’ve thought I’d make it to 28, let alone have a family. Luckily all that time spent away from the sun did wonders for my skin. Age barely showed, though I could say the same about Dean. How worried he’d been about turning 30. I told him he’d been acting ridiculous. He hadn’t a thing to worry about. Even four years later, he didn’t look a day over 26. Still just as attractive as when I’d met him.

“Everything okay?” he asked as he piled dishes into the sink.

“Yeah.” I gave him a nod. “Lucy’s just got a headache is all.”

“Do you need anything?”

“Nah, I think I’ve got it,” I said as I sat Lucy up on the counter. “Go ahead. I’ll be up in a bit.”

Nodding, he quickly kissed me on the cheek before heading up the stairs, though he briefly paused to remind me, “We’ve only got a half hour.”

“Okay,” I called back, just to assure him I’d heard.

Lucy cast her eyes down to the floor, and her feet swung idly in the air. I brushed a hand through her curls before heading to the medicine cabinet. I filled the cap to the line and handed it to her. She hesitated for a moment before chugging the orange liquid and handing the cap back to me.

“And my headache will go away now, right, Mum?” she asked me, staring up with hopeful blue eyes, bright and electric just like her father’s.

“Yes,” I told her. “Now, eat your breakfast and get changed. Mummy and Daddy have to get to work.”