Page 50 of Ruthless Possession
"With chocolate chips," I confirm, smiling. "And maybe some strawberries too?"
We work together in companionable silence, Charlie standing on a chair to watch as I mix the batter. The domesticity of the moment feels surreal after yesterday's horrors, but I treasure it anyway.
"Can I stir?" Charlie asks, reaching for the wooden spoon.
"Of course." I guide her small hands, helping her fold the chocolate chips into the batter. "You're doing great."
Footsteps behind me make me tense until I recognize Matthew's measured tread. He appears in the doorway, shirtless and rumpled from sleep, his eyes immediately finding Charlie with a warmth that surprises me.
"Morning," he says, his voice still rough. "Smells good."
"Mr. Matthew!" Charlie abandons her stirring to beam at him. "We're making pancakes!"
"I can see that." He moves to the coffee maker, but his eyes keep returning to her. "Chocolate chip?"
"With strawberries," she confirms proudly.
I watch them, the tightness in my chest easing slightly. Matthew has always been good with kids, even back in high school; the neighborhood children would flock to him at cookouts.
Trenton appears next, drawn by the smell of coffee. He's more reserved than Matthew, but he still manages to make Charlie laugh when he dramatically tastes the batter from the spoon and proclaims it "The best ever."
By the time we sit down to eat, the kitchen is warm and filled with the smell of pancakes and coffee. Charlie sits between Trenton and me, her small legs swinging as she methodically arranges her strawberries in a pattern on her plate.
"Can we go shopping today?" she asks, looking up at me with hopeful eyes. "For clothes? And maybe a toy?"
I catch Trenton's eye over Charlie's head. We haven't discussed our plans yet, haven't had time to make decisions about safety, or how to handle Charlie's presence in our home.
"We need to make some calls first," I say gently. "But yes, we'll definitely go shopping."
On the counter lies the social worker's business card, a reminder of the bureaucracy we need to navigate. For now, though, I want to give Charlie this moment of normalcy—a breakfast that feels so right despite everything.
"Can I have more?" Charlie asks, holding up her empty plate, chocolate smeared around her mouth.
"Absolutely," Matthew says, already rising to fetch the serving plate. "Growing girls need to eat."
As he serves another pancake, I catch his eye. There's a tenderness that wasn't there yesterday. It makes me wonder if maybe we've all found what we didn't know we were missing.
The morning stretches on with ordinary moments that feel extraordinary given the circumstances. I help Charlie shower again, carefully washing her hair and being gentle around the bruises on her small body. Then we choose an outfit from my closet, a T-shirt dress cinched at the waist with a belt.
"Like a princess," Charlie declares, admiring herself in the mirror.
"Exactly like a princess," I agree, brushing through her damp hair.
When we emerge from the bedroom, Trenton and Matthew are in the living room, speaking in low voices that stop as we enter. I don't miss the flash of concern on their faces, quickly masked when Charlie bounds toward them.
"Look at me!" she announces, spinning to show off her makeshift dress.
"You look beautiful," Matthew says, his voice warm with genuine admiration.
Trenton nods, his expression softer than I've seen in a long time. "Ready to go shopping?"
The question hangs in the air. I know we need to discuss safety first, but the eager hope in Charlie's eyes makes it impossible to say no.
"Let me call the social worker," I say. "We need to make sure we're following all the rules."
While Charlie shows Trenton and Matthew her strawberry art from breakfast, I step outside to make the call. The social worker confirms we have temporary custody for now, but regular check-ins and therapy appointments are required.
"We'll need to establish a schedule for visits," she says. "And, of course, she should see a therapist as soon as possible."
