Page 35 of A Heart of Little Faith
“The guy said they may know more in a few days. I’ll keep at him and let you know.”
“Please do. This not knowing is killing me.”
Tony reached across the table and squeezed her fingers. “Try not to worry.”
****
The next day, Gideon arrived at camp with a note from Lily, allowing them to release Claire to him. After a series of questions and ID-checking, Claire ran out, the sounds of giggling flowing behind her.
“Hey there, ClaireBear.” Gideon smiled. Although he’d tossed and turned all night wondering about Lily and Tony, he was pushing all thought of them from his mind. He didn’t want anything spoiling his time with Claire. “Are you ready to try my cooking?”
“Yippee, it’ll be fun!” Claire skipped out the door. With a smile, he followed her. His chest swelled at her excitement. Having someone to prepare dinner for, even a child, was a new experience, and one he’d been ridiculously excited for all day.
When they arrived at his place, Claire explored the apartment while he fixed dinner.
“Hey Claire, what do you want to eat?” he called out to her as he checked out the fridge. The blast of cold air was refreshing after the summer heat. “I’ve got pizza, pasta and hot dogs.”
“Cool, look at me, Gideon! We’re twins!”
Claire sat in his basketball chair, trying to wheel herself over to him. He froze, the sight of this darling girl trying to imitate him more than he could bear. His heart pounded and his lungs constricted. Dwarfed in the specially designed chair, her pale legs barely reached the foot pedals and swung against the neon green frame. Her sneakers banged the metal and sent shards of pain into Gideon’s head with each clunk. She struggled to push the wheels and blew hair out of her face in frustration.
“Claire, no!” The image of her in a wheelchair burned itself into his brain and made bile rise in his throat – its sour taste made him gag. His ClaireBear ran, skipped, and jumped. She did not wheel herself around; her legs did not swing lifelessly. She wasnotlike him at all. They werenottwins.
If she were an adult, she would have recognized his tone and his expression for what it was—heartache. But she was only a child. She whipped her head up and her face fell. Her breathing quickened into small sobs and she whimpered. The chair banged into an end table. A lamp crashed to the floor. The base broke in half, the shade tilted and the plug pulled out of the wall. “I’m sorry, Gideon. I didn’t mean it,” she cried.
He didn’t answer, still caught in the vision of her in the chair. Claire catapulted from the chair and ran into his bedroom, where she flopped on the bed in tears.
Her sobs snapped him out of his reverie and he swore to himself. He hadn’t meant to yell at her, certainly hadn’t meant to scare her. He wheeled around the chair she’d left in the middle of the floor and into his bedroom. As he moved to the side of his bed, he lowered his voice and crooned.
“Shh, sweetheart. It’s okay, honey. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”
Claire rolled over and pulled her knees to her chest. It was the same posture he’d found Lily in after her break-in. She stared at him, her breath hiccupping. Gideon reached over and brushed the tears from her face, following the wet trail across her cheek and into her hair.
“I’m sorry, Claire.” He waited and let her focus on what he said, finding relief in his role of comforter of both Lily and her daughter.
She sat up and he patted his lap. She climbed into it and he hugged her as he rocked her back and forth. The warmth from her body melted the icy casing around in his heart. “I didn’t know you had a green chair.”
“It’s for basketball.” Various emotions rioted through him—sadness, grief, pride, discomfort, wonder. It was all he could do to focus on answering her questions. He wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs.
“How come you don’t use this one?”
“Because that one is specially made for basketball. This one doesn’t move the same way and isn’t as fast.”
Claire examined the chair. “It’s not green, either.”
Gideon huffed. “No, it’s not.”
“How come?”
Technical questions he could answer. Six-year-old girl questions, however, were tougher. Why wasn’t it green? He hadn’t ever thought about it before. “It just isn’t.”
Claire thought for a minute. “Well, if I had one, I’d want it to be pink.”
Again, his chest tightened at the thought of her in a wheelchair. Then he relaxed. She didn’t think his wheelchair was a big deal; it was a fun method to get around. She didn’t think about what he missed, what she would miss if she used one. His heart beat fast as he realized it didn’t matter to her if he was in a wheelchair. Had he focused on that thought, he never would have yelled at her in the first place. He should have remembered that children were pure and genuine. They could teach adults just as much, if not more, than adults could teach them. He kissed the top of her head.
“That doesn’t surprise me at all, kiddo.”
Claire twisted her fingers together. “I’m sorry I knocked over your lamp. I didn’t mean to break it. Are you still mad at me?” Her voice was quiet.