Tea Parties and Feather Boas (Luke Kuechly)

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Shirtsleeves

•When salted tears won't dry
I'll wipe my shirtsleeves
Under your eyes•

Isla could tell something was up between her father and Miss Melissa. They didn't talk a lot anymore. Miss Melissa spent lots of time out of the house. Not that the child could complain. The woman wasn't her favorite adult to be around. However, Miss Lydia was around more often. That made Isla happy. Also, her baby brother. Her baby brother made her very happy.

She and daddy had gone out a week ago and picked out a color for his room. They decided on a deep forest green color. Isla had envisioned something more colorful than her father. He, on the other hand, wanted something his son could grow with. He wasn't keen on the idea of changing the paint color every five years.

In that green painted room, Isla currently played. Daddy had assembled the crib and dresser a week prior. However, as he did, Isla saw the perfect opportunity for the most amazing fort. So the parent and child made a deal. Her father would keep the dresser parallel to the crib so that a large comforter could be spread over the two pieces of furniture until it was two weeks away from her brother's due date, and Isla would keep her room cleaned up. So far, it was working.

Last night, daddy had added fairy lights into her semi-permanent fort and Isla's life had been pure bliss since. He even let her sleep in it last night.

As she busied herself, serving imaginary tea to her stuffed animals (the first cup going to Lady Cordelia, of course), raised voices met the child's ears. It wasn't hard to figure out that Daddy and Miss Melissa were having a disagreement. That was happening a lot lately. Unconcerned, Isla crawled out of the fort and closed the door. Once she was back in her fortress, the raised voices were nothing but murmurs, unbothering in the child's wonderland.

Over the next 15 minutes, however, the voices grew louder and louder until they were obvious shouts. Isla jumped at the sound of her father's loud voice. He sounded angry. Daddy never sounded angry. Curiosity got the better of her. On her tiptoes, Isla quietly crept out of the room and down the stairs.

Peaking around the banister, the five-year-old caught sight of the two adults in an obvious standoff. Both wore expressions and used tones the young girl had scarcely seen or experienced, if ever, in her short life.

"Out!" Daddy's voice boomed. It scared Isla to see him like this. "I want you out of my house and gone for good!"

"I have rights!"

"Actually, no, you don't. You gave those up freely and willingly a long time ago!"

"Admit it! You don't want me here!"

"You're right, I don't, and I don't think you truly want to be here or want her."

"How dare you-"

"Your mom called yesterday," Daddy cut Miss Melissa off, regaining some of his composure.

Isla couldn't see Miss Melissa's face, but there was a long, drawn-out silence. Curiosity pulling her in, the little girl dared to sneak closer.

Melissa stumbled over what to say at an obvious loss for words. Isla longed to know what daddy meant by that, but she knew she would probably never find out. Whatever they were talking about, it was obvious to the child that they were very "grownup matters". Meemaw had taught her that term, and Isla decided that it very much fit the situation before her.

"I could still tell her..."

"And cause her the emotional trauma of that? I'd like to think you're better than that."

Melissa bit her lip, taking a minute to contemplate her options. Would she fight dirty? Fight to stay? Or surrender?

Luke continued to stare down his ex. He prayed she would leave. He didn't want her around any longer. It was more stressful to have her in his home than to worry about making sure Isla was taken care of.