Page 120 of Protecting You
There were boxes of cereal, but when he lifted a box of bran-something, she shook her head. Smart kid.
Then, Callan spied pancake mix. He pulled it out, showed her the photo, and lifted his eyebrows. “Do you think your old man can pull off pancakes?” He read the directions. “All I have to do is add milk and eggs. What do you think? Can I do it?”
She took the question seriously, nodding after a moment of deliberation. “I’ll help.”
“You’re the best.” He carried her and the box back to the kitchen and plopped them both on the counter.
Callan kept up a stream of conversation, doing everything he could think of to draw Peri out, but she mostly sat silently while he started a pot of coffee, then measured the mix. He let her crack the eggs and add them and the milk, then set the bowl on her lap and gave her a spoon. “You stir that while I get the griddle hot.”
“’Kay.”
He stifled a sigh. She certainly wasn’t making it easy for him.
“Tell me about your new friends,” he said. “You were talking to Alyssa about someone named Emma, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
He set the stovetop griddle on the gas stove, lit the fire, and then added a pat of butter.
“Is she nice?”
“I guess.”
“Is she ugly? Does she have a huge wart on her nose?”
Peri giggled. “No.”
“Good. Good. Little girls with wart-noses are twenty-seven percent more likely to be witches. You have to make sure they don’t have brooms and black cats before you can be friends with them.”
“Witches are just pretend, Daddy.”
“Are you sure? I thought they were real.”
She was smiling at him now.
“Hmm. Even if you’re wrong, if Emma doesn’t have a wart-nose, then she’s probably not a witch.” Callan leaned against the counter across from his daughter in the U-shaped kitchen. “Tell me about other friends. I’m sure you’ve made a few.”
She nodded but didn’t elaborate.
She wasn’t exactly loquacious. Not with him anyway.
Remaining quiet to give her the opportunity to talk, he took the batter and poured it into circles on the griddle, then set the table for three and added the crock of butter and maple syrup.
“I think they’re ready to flip,” Peri said.
He returned to the griddle and saw that, sure enough, the pancakes looked dry on top. He flipped the first and found it perfectly golden brown on the opposite side. “You’re a chef!”
“Mommy used to let me help her.”
“I bet your mom was good at pancakes.” He worked hard to keep negativity about Megan out of his thoughts and words when he was in Peri’s presence. She needed to remember her mother with fondness.
When they were finished, he stacked the pancakes on a plate, which he slid into a warm oven, then started the next batch.
He was flipping them over when footsteps sounded behind him.
“Alyssa!” Peri’s voice was full of enthusiasm, a drastic change from how she’d been talking to him.
He tried not to be too jealous.
