Out of Focus #SYTYCW15 Top10 Finalist! [COMPLETED]

22| Good Intentions

The place had changed from what he remembered as a boy, Marshall thought. Taking in the upgraded cabinetry and dark quartz counters. But the floors were the same, battered and weathered wood, rolling and dipping with the settling of the structure.

At his side, Lucy handed him the spoon so she could push up falling sleeves and wiggle giddy fingers.

Eva found them bent over the bags he'd carted in, discussing the contents in avid fascination and setting forth a game plan. And though she was still thoroughly pissed, a small corner of her heart warmed at the sight. Lucy was always her brightest, most happy-go-lucky child, but this morning, at the discovery of a breakfast guest she was in her absolute glory.

While Marshall was busy giving her a little lecture on the wonders of artisanal bacon, Eva moved to the stove and decided the least she could do was start cooking.

She'd only just turned on the burner when Lucy's head snapped up and a squeal of protest erupted.

"No, momma. I wanna do it!"

"But I can--?"

"No, no momma. I wanna do it. You go."

"But..."

Marshall rounded on her, too, arms outstretched to corral her back and away from the stove. "Chef says out, then out. We have this under control, don't we, Chef?" he asked, tipping his gaze down to her daughter.

"What does 'Chef' mean?"

"Means you're the kitchen boss."

Lucy's face lit with triumphant glory marbled with love struck fascination. "I like that."

Good God, Eva realized. My little baby has a crush. Tossing up her hands she left them to it, but always keeping an ear tuned to the kitchen. He was patient with her. Letting her ask a million questions-in typical Lucy fashion, and never once rushing her along or losing his patience when she made him repeat himself. Over and over.

Perched in front of the stove, Eva watched as he taught her the science behind pancake flipping, and wondered how many times in her own childhood had she wished for a moment like this? A lazy Sunday morning spent with family, creating memories and meaningful experiences?

To have a father? Someone to make her mom smile, someone to tuck them into bed at night, or carry around on his shoulders? Maybe then her mom wouldn't have had to work so hard, spending most of her weekends in bed regaining her strength for the coming work-week. Swallowing pain pills by the handful just to make it from one day to the next.

When the last pancake slid atop a golden stack, Eva stepped forward and plucked Lucy down from her stool.

"Alright, Chef, please go get your sisters. Marshall and I will finish up here and set the table."

"Can we eat on the desk?"

"Deck, baby."

A little nose scrunched. "That's what I said. Desk."

Chuckling, Eva slipped off Lucy's very messy apron. "Yes, baby. It's your breakfast. Sisters, please get them."

"M'kay!" Excited feet bounded down the hall and thundered up the front stairs. Marshall cozied up next to her, an endearing smile on his face.

"What a cutie."

When she was sure Lucy was far enough out of earshot, Eva rounded and punched him square in the chest, hard enough to make a point. "Asshole," she snapped the word between her teeth like a dry bone. "I thought I made myself clear last night?"