“Sam, have you thought any more about preschool?”
Jade had been pushing the idea for days now. He and Ellie always lingered and had their meals late to avoid other guests, so they usually ate breakfast and dinner with the Glass siblings. Lately, his adopted daughter’s welfare was a popular topic of conversation.
“There’s only me and another woman who teach, so there aren’t any men except parents. You can’t keep taking her with you to every job.”
“Why not?” Sam had no idea what he was doing with Ellie, but having someone else tell him how to raise her was aggravating.
She sighed as she picked at her breakfast, her brother eating happily at her side. “Look at you. You’re completely worn out, and some of those jobs could be dangerous for a little girl.” Placing her elbows on the table, she pointed her fork at him. “Plus, she should be interacting with other children her age. She needs to learn to socialize. Already this old and she doesn’t even speak.”
Kicking his sister under the table, Jack frowned at the last comment. She only shrugged in response, not sorry for saying it. Sam knew she meant well, that this was her area of expertise, but he wasn’t sure it was that simple.
So far, the only person he was able to leave her alone with was Jack – her third and final interest. From the first moment they met, there was something about him she liked. Sam had spent a good chunk of his free time trying to figure out why. While he welcomed all panic-free moments, it also made him weirdly uneasy. Perhaps Jack appeared more effeminate, but aside from longer hair and a thinner frame, there wasn’t anything overly feminine about his appearance. His smile was warm and friendly, and when he spoke his words were filled with kindness, but his sister wasn’t any different. Still, there was something indescribable about him. Just a feeling he gave off that was unlike anything Sam had experienced. Whatever it was, Ellie didn’t seem to care that he was a man, and she would spend hours with him when she showed no concern for anyone else.
As lucky as that was, and as much as Jack helped out when he could, Sam felt every day was more draining than the last. Between the constant physical labor, carrying a toddler around, and dealing with her traumas, he was exhausted. On top of that, Ellie didn’t even know how to play. Sometimes her blue eyes would twinkle and widen with a hidden curiosity, but it was never enough to explore on her own. Outside of those few moments, she cared little about what happened around her, perfectly content just following Sam all day. She needed more. Things he couldn’t give her.
“Then what do you suggest?” he finally replied through a mouthful of toast.
Both siblings gasped, not expecting him to actually agree, and Jack’s fork clanged against his plate as it dropped from his hand. After an awkward moment, Jade cleared her throat.
“Well, you can come the first couple of days, to help her adjust and show her she’s safe with us.” She was smiling excitedly, but Sam’s expression didn’t change. Nothing about this sounded exciting, or even remotely appealing. He could already imagine the disaster it would likely turn into. “It’ll take some time, but I think if she watches the other children, she’ll see that playing and learning can be fun.”
Fun.
He wasn’t sure Ellie knew what fun was. Initially, he’d assumed her temperament was the result of a single trauma. After discussing it with Squirrel, they guessed it wasn’t so simple. If her mother was a Rising Suns' escort, she would have been given an apartment, and anyone in the organization would have had access. Clientele, as well as those with higher rank, would have been mostly free to come and go. If she had been hiding a child for three years, it meant she had literally been hiding her. Ellie would have learned to be quiet. Silent. She may have even been in the same apartment or room while her mother worked. That day the Magpie found her was just the terrible icing on an already horribly damaged cake.
“It would be good if that was possible,” he admitted, doubtful but willing to try. At this point, it couldn’t hurt, and he desperately needed a break.
“Uh, Sam...” Jade hesitated, lightly setting her fork down and picking at a nail. She was going to ask him something she thought would be personal.
Go ahead, he thought. None of this is personal, because we don’t really exist.
“In order for us to make any progress, I need to know something about Ellie.” Something anyone else, any normal person, might be uncomfortable telling. “About why she doesn’t play or speak.”
Had he been that normal person, her question would have been blunt and pushy and rude. She was a preschool teacher, not a child psychologist in a private session, and they had known each other only weeks. But he wasn’t normal and he was the last person who should be making decisions about a little girl’s trauma. At least Jade might have a chance of helping Ellie where he couldn’t.
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