Bridge Engineering: Part 1

Two broken, single parents find healing.

Based on a post by Architect 23 94, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected.

And so it began. The start of another school year. I pulled my Jeep into the school grounds and took my place in the waiting drop-off lane. Children scurried about the school grounds with crisp back-to-school clothes and brightly colored backpacks not yet soiled and tattered from use. I winced internally as numerous mothers hugged their little ones, sent them into the building, and tearfully departed.

My Elizabeth unfastened her seatbelt and eagerly fidgeted on the edge of the seat as we crept forward in line. Upon arrival at the designated unloading zone, Lizzie contorted herself over the center console and gave me a tight, all-consuming hug. "I love you Daddy!" she shouted as a volunteer parent opened the car door. And with that, she was gone in a flash. The volunteer and I just smiled at each other and shrugged our shoulders.

In a repeat of years past, I drove away with a feeling of emptiness. Lizzie and I spent every minute of the summer together and I grew accustomed to her as my constant companion. It seemed like just yesterday that I dropped her off for the first day of preschool. Today it's third grade. How fast will the remaining years fly by before she leaves me all alone?

I spent the day in a nearby coffee shop distractedly conducting business via email on my laptop. It wasn't rational, but somehow it felt better knowing I was only a couple minutes from the school, and from Lizzie. Time passed excruciatingly slow and I struggled to resist going to the school and being one of 'those' helicopter parents. Well, school ends at 2:50. I held out until 2:15.

I was third in the line of vehicles waiting for pick-up and my eyes anxiously scanned the mass of children emerging from the school doors. It wasn't long before I spotted Lizzie joyfully skipping hand-in-hand with a girl I didn't recognize. She was rail thin, had a very lightly tanned skin tone, and towered above Lizzie. That wasn't too surprising since Lizzie took after her very petite mother and also barely made the birthday cutoff for her grade, but this girl was quite a bit taller than the average third grader.

The girls zig-zagged as they skipped down the sidewalk with swinging arms and bouncing hair. Lizzie's straight and amber brown, her friend's a loose mass of dark curls. Lizzie spotted my Jeep and pointed it out to her friend. They hugged goodbye with Lizzie's arms around her friend's waist, and her friend's arms around Lizzie's head. I smiled at the height contrast and felt a sense of relief as Lizzie ran toward the Jeep.

She climbed in and frantically began telling me everything about her day, a flood of words pouring from her mouth as if a damn holding them back had burst, "My teacher is Mrs. Pierpont and she is really nice and she has red hair. A boy named Alex sits next to me and he has shiny shoes. I had a hot dog for lunch and; and; and;”

My heart felt comfort as she sat next to me and I heard the happiness in her voice. I needed her near me and to know that everything was ok.

Lizzie had talked non-stop for 10 minutes and was still going as we headed toward home. The small-town streets gave way to a rural two-lane road as we headed out of town, and eventually the tires crunched along the gravel road leading to our house in the woods. It was the tranquil setting that I needed when Lizzie and I moved here 8 years ago.

"; and I met a new friend. Her name is Toni, well it's really Antonia, but she wants to be called Toni. Kind of like my name is Elizabeth, but you call me Lizzie. She is really nice and really tall. She has a pet frog."

I interrupted to ask, "Is that who you were skipping with after school?"

"Yes, she in my class but she doesn't sit next to me. I met her when we were in line for lunch and we sat together. She brought a salad from home and bought a milk in the lunch line. She just moved here from somewhere else. Can I bring lunch from home tomorrow?"

I patted her knee with my hand and said, "Of course, you can sweetie." as we parked in front of the house.

It wasn't a large house but was plenty of space for the two of us. There was a great room, kitchen and half bathroom on the main level; two bedroom-bathroom suites and a loft space on the second level; and a semi-finished basement that I had been slowly working on for several years. It had all the modern technology and conveniences but was built with a rustic charm complementing its setting in the woods.

We kicked our shoes off in the mudroom and Lizzie discarded her backpack into the coat cubby by the door. Lizzie, or more accurately, I, survived the first day of the school year. Only 179 more to go.

Getting In A Rhythm.

Lizzie and I settled into the school year rhythm over the next couple weeks and I began to slowly let go of my separation anxiety. Every day, I dropped her off at school, worked from home, then picked her up from school. Evenings were filled with homework, dinner preparation, and some form of relaxing time together. Lizzie particularly enjoyed walking in the woods and making up imaginary games with sticks, leaves, rocks, or other things she would find along the way. The grand finale of her outdoor adventures was always spending some time on a rope swing that I had hung from a tall oak tree. Other nights we might occupy ourselves with board games, cards, or television as the mood struck us. At the end of every night, Lizzie would get ready for bed then we would spend about a half-hour talking and reading a book of her choice before turning off the lights.

I also noticed another pattern forming in those first few weeks of school. Lizzie was talking more and more about her new friend, Toni. They waited for each other to arrive in the mornings before going into the school together and would always emerge side-by-side in the afternoons. They were quickly becoming inseparable and I was happy to see her form that kind of relationship. Like me, Lizzie had always been socially reserved with only a few limited friendships.

I saw her reserved personality opening up more and more with Toni, so one evening when Lizzie asked if she could invite her to play at our house, I readily agreed. I wrote my name and cell phone number on a note pad before tearing it out and handing it to Lizzie, "Ask her to have her parents call me and we will see if we can setup a time to play."

Lizzie squealed and bounced up and down in excitement. She continued bouncing all the way to the mudroom and safely deposited the note in her backpack.

Introductions.

It was a couple days later, mid-morning on Thursday, that I answered a call from a number I didn't recognize. Thinking it was likely a business call, I answered, "Hello, this is David."

A friendly but hesitant female voice replied, "Hi, I'm Stefani, Toni's mom."

"Hi Stefani. It's nice to meet you, well, over the phone at least. Lizzie has been so excited to play with Toni!"

"Yes, I've heard a lot about Lizzie over the last couple weeks. Toni is excited too."

I got down to details and asked, "When is Toni available?"

"Would Saturday afternoon, maybe around 1:00, work for you?"

"Yes, that would be just fine." Not knowing how many facts about our home life found its way to Toni's parents, I tried to be understanding of the fact that people can be cautious of sending their children, especially girls, to a single father's house. I tentatively asked, "Where would Toni be most comfortable? Lizzie would love for her to come here, or we are happy to meet at Triangle Park. Whatever works best for you."

Stefani thought for a brief second, then replied, "Would you be comfortable dropping Lizzie off at our house for a couple hours?"

I noticed that she said, "drop her off for a couple hours," which clearly meant I was not invited to stay. However, I didn't think much of it since a dad hanging around during a play date in someone else's house would be awkward at best.

"Yes, I'm sure Lizzie would enjoy that."

Stefani gave me the address, then we exchanged closing words and ended the call. I sat and reflected on the conversation for a few moments. It all seemed very normal. Stefani seemed "normal" and was pleasant enough, though I sensed a business-like tone in her voice. I shrugged it off thinking, "How much can you tell from a 2-minute phone call?"

Getting Together.

I told Lizzie the news when I picked her up from school. She shrieked with excitement, did a little dance in her seat, and began counting the hours until 1:00 Saturday. She definitely got that over-enjoyment of simple things in life, and the dancing talent, from her mother!

Saturday eventually arrived, although much too slowly for Lizzie's liking. After lunch, we hopped into the Jeep and rode into town with Lizzie impatiently fidgeting in the passenger seat the whole way. We pulled onto Depot Street near downtown and Lizzie helped me scan for the mailbox with the correct house number. I saw it from a distance and slowed down so she could have the discovery.

"There it is! There it is! 2 1 5!" she screamed.

I brought the Jeep to a stop in front of a small, well-kept bungalow style home with an impressive display of annual flowers by the front steps. As soon as we stopped, Toni burst out the front door and bounded down the porch steps in a single leap. Likewise, Lizzie unfastened her seatbelt and threw open the door in one fluid motion. They met midway across the yard in a full speed, shrieking embrace.

I smiled at their innocent joy as I unbuckled my seatbelt and walked around the Jeep toward the house. As I did, the front door opened and a tall, slender lady stepped out onto the porch in bare feet, wearing fashionably weathered blue jeans and a buff color corded sweater. She appeared to be in her early 30s and looked like the identical, older version of Toni. She was maybe around 5 foot 10, tall and had the same slender build, with addition of modest womanly curves at her hips and chest. Her chiseled facial features and shoulder length dark curls were also a matured version of Toni's.

I approached the porch and offered a cheery "Hello! I'm David, nice to meet you."

She crossed her arms and somewhat coldly replied, "Hi David," then with a voice inflection that implied more of an assertion than a question said, "Would it be ok for you to pick Lizzie up at 3:00?"

I sensed the invisible barrier she was erecting and halted my progress toward the porch.

"Yes, that would be fine. I'll see you then."

As I turned away to walk back to the Jeep, she flatly said, "Please don't be late."

I didn't reply to her, but turned my attention to Lizzie and said loudly enough for my demander to hear, "Have fun girls! I'll be back Before 3:00 to pick you up Lizzie."

While the lady on the porch didn't introduce herself, the voice matched Stefani's from our phone call a few days ago, and was equally business-like in demeanor. It's difficult to describe. She didn't project a mean or nasty personality that would have made me wary of leaving Lizzie, but she was definitely keeping her distance. The mystery of it piqued my curiosity and made me realize that, as much as Lizzie talked about Toni, she hadn't told me anything about her family.

I ran a couple errands around town and returned to Lizzie's house at 2:50, ten minutes early. When I pulled up I saw numerous toys strewn across the front yard and heard playing voices and squeals coming from behind the house. Since I was early, I leisurely wandered the front yard picking up hula-hoops, jump ropes, a bicycle, and a few balls. As I deposited the last couple items into a neat pile next to the driveway, I heard Stefani's voice behind me softly say, "Thank you, you didn't need to do that."

I turned to face her as she stood on the porch in the same jeans and sweater she had on earlier, "No worries. I was a little early and didn't want to intrude."

With her arms crossed in front of her, Stefani somewhat timidly said, "Thank you for that too; for being early."

Just then, the girls came running around the corner of the house screaming, "Spider! Spider! Spider!"

I looked at Stefani, smiled and shrugged my shoulders. I corralled Lizzie and said, "It's time to go, is there anything you need to clean up?"

Toni answered for her, "No, we just had toys out in the front yard. I'll put them in the garage."

The girls pleaded for another play date as they hugged. Stefani simply answered, "We'll see."

I gave a quick wave goodbye as Lizzie and I climbed in the Jeep and pulled away.

Drop-offs and Pick-ups.

Over the next few days, the pattern of school drop-offs and pick-ups with Lizzie and Toni as an inseparable pair continued, and Lizzie begged me relentlessly for another out-of-school play date with Toni. Given Stefani's tepid response at the end of the last play date, I was hesitant to initiate. However, Lizzie's continued insistence eventually wore me down and I made the phone call that Thursday.

Stefani answered the phone with a simple, "Hello."

"Hi Stefani. This is Lizzie's dad, David. How are you today?"

She answered somewhat suspiciously, "I'm fine."

After a second of not receiving any more of a response, I stumbled a bit with my words and added, "Uh, Lizzie would really like to get together with Toni again. I; I was just calling to see if you would be open to that."

Stefani questioned sharply, "Why are you asking if I'm open to it?"

I stumbled some more, "Uh; well; you sounded a little hesitant at the end of the last play date and; and I didn't want to be presumptuous about them getting together again."

She coldly answered, "I'm fine with it."

"Okay, good. It seems Lizzie and Toni are becoming fast friends."

In an ever-so-slightly warmer tone of voice, Stefani asked, "When and where are you thinking?"

"How about Saturday afternoon again? Wherever you would prefer is fine with us."

"Yes, that works. Saturday afternoon at 3:00. How about our house again?"

I replied, "Sounds good. We'll see you then." before we exchanged goodbyes. I ended the cell phone call and loudly exhaled my relief that the awkward conversation was over.

Building Friendships.

The beginning of the second play date went much like the first; screaming girls happy to see each other, a cold reception from Stefani, and a firm directive to be there on-time to pick up Lizzie. It also ended similarly to the first play date. I arrived early, exchanged a few short words with Stefani, and gently guided Lizzie to the Jeep as the girls begged for more time together. This same routine became standard procedure over the next several weeks and a half dozen more play dates.

The only change to the pattern occurred after the first few play dates, when Stefani and I began texting each other to make arrangements rather than talking on the phone. The texting suited me just fine as it avoided the awkwardness of our previous telephone conversations.

Eventually, Lizzie started asking if Toni could come to our house to play. I avoided the subject as long as possible since I wasn't sure how Stefani would feel about Toni coming to a single father's house or, for that matter, even how much she knew about our family situation. After an especially persuasive appeal from Lizzie one afternoon, I caved and picked up my phone to text Stefani.

I wasn't sure how to best approach the question and, after several re-writes, settled on a minimal and factual approach, "Hi Stefani. Lizzie would like to invite Toni over to our house for a play date."

A couple hours later my phone buzzed with the simple reply, "Okay. When?"

After a few exchanges of date options, we settled on that Thursday after school. Stefani offered to drop her off and I sent her our address.

I told Lizzie the plan and she immediately began formulating a list of all the things they would do. The two activities that kept rising to the top were to show Toni her bedroom and play on a bridge that she and I had built over a small creek in the woods.

It was a simple bridge made by spanning a couple logs from bank to bank, then covering them with old rough sawn slab wood for a walking surface that was about 6-feet wide. It wasn't much, but it was sufficient to occasionally get my small tractor to the other side of the creek and it was one of Lizzie's favorite spots in the world; running over it, throwing stones into the water, looking for crayfish, watching the squirrels and chipmunks, sliding on the frozen stream in the winter, etc. If the weather was nice, she would sometimes do her homework laying belly down on the bridge with her elbows propping up her upper body.

It was also her spot of solace when she was sad or upset. She would sit on the edge swinging her feet below her until the surrounding woods healed whatever was bothering her. Eventually, she would meander her way back to the house in a much better mood than she left.

She and I were a lot alike in that respect. It was the very reason I bought the property when we moved here, to get away from life and let nature heal some wounds.

Inseparable.

Lizzie was positively giddy during the ride home from school on Thursday. She recapped the list of things she had planned to show and do with Toni. I reminded her to be a good host and do the things that Toni wants to do, though I suspected that would easily be worked out between the now inseparable friends.

As Lizzie shed her backpack and shoes in the mudroom, she asked, "Can we make chocolate chip cookies before Toni gets here?"

"Sure, I think we have all the ingredients. Start getting everything out."

We had made cookies together enough that Lizzie knew where everything was located. She rushed around pulling ingredients, mixing bowls, and baking sheets out of the pantry. After confirming everything needed was present, Lizzie started measuring ingredients into the mixing bowl. I stood by to lend assistance when needed and occasionally clarify a fractional measurement or the difference between teaspoons and tablespoons.

Other than a little incident with the flour, Lizzie did a great job mixing the cookie dough. Together, we spooned balls of dough onto baking sheets and put the first tray into the oven. Lizzie set the timer and I suggested she go clean the flour off her arms and face while they were baking.

I cleaned errant flour from the countertop and floor while Lizzie washed up. Just as I finished and began to load the dirty bowls and mixing utensils into the dishwasher, the oven timer chimed and there was a knock at the front door almost simultaneously.

Lizzie heard it and ran full speed to the door. I quickly dried my hands and hit the button to silence the chiming oven. Since the main level of our house was mostly one big, open space, I could see Lizzie open the door and embrace Toni, with Stefani standing close behind.

I pulled an oven mitt over my hand and called, "Please come on in. I just need to pull cookies out of the oven."

The girls came racing over to eagerly observe the fresh cookies. Stefani stood in the doorway obviously surveying the inside of the house.

"Come on in, Stefani." I called again and, in an attempt to relax her, added, "Make yourself at home. I just need to switch these batches of cookies."

She came inside, closed the door behind her, and tentatively took a few steps into the great room. The girls talked and watched as I removed the first tray of cookies from the oven and then inserted a second tray.

Their impatience was obvious so I cautioned, "Let them cool for a couple minutes, then you can have one while they are still warm and gooey."

Stefani had taken a few more steps toward the great room's floor-to-ceiling windows and continued to study the house and its contents. Seeing her silhouetted in front of the windows and forest beyond was quite striking. Her mass of loose curly hair pulled into a ponytail and carefully fed through the back closure of a Nike 'Just Do It' ball cap. She wore running shoes with ankle socks, three-quarter length running tights, and a quarter-zip pullover running top. The top was somewhat loose fitting but still gave evidence of an undergarment that effectively restrained and compressed modest size tits. The style fit her well and complimented her tall, slender form. Particularly, the well-proportioned curves of her hips and ass that were showcased by the skin-tight running pants.

I was snapped out of my admiration by the girls asking if they could have cookies now. Smiling, I replied, "Yes, I think they have cooled down enough."

I grabbed a couple napkins, placed two warm cookies on each, and handed them to the girls. Lizzie asked, "Can we go down to the bridge?"

I glanced over at Stefani who was now looking at some family photographs on the stone fireplace mantel. Not seeing any reaction to Lizzie's question, I said, "Sure, have fun. Just don't get wet and muddy."

The girls scampered out the mudroom door and meandered into the woods behind the house. I joined Stefani who had moved to watch them out the large windows. We stood in awkward silence for a few minutes as we watched the girls work their way down the gently sloped woods toward the bridge.

As we watched them reach the bridge, the oven started chiming. I gestured toward the open kitchen said, "Excuse me, I'll be right back." Stefani continued watching the girls as I turned away.

I pulled the second and last batch of cookies out of the oven and turned it off. As I placed a couple hot pads and the hot cookie sheet on the kitchen island, I noticed Stefani had returned back to the family photographs on the fireplace mantel. There were several of Lizzie and me together, several of my wife and me together, and one larger photo centerpiece of me, my wife, and a newborn Lizzie. Stefani looked at them all but seemed to focus her gaze on those with my wife in them.

After a few moments, she coldly and very accusatorily said, "I haven't met your wife yet."

I didn't appreciate her tone and matter-of-factly replied, "It's just Lizzie and I here." without any additional explanation. I wanted to spit back in a matching confrontational tone, "I haven't met your husband either." but managed to restrain myself and didn't say anything more.

She lingered at the photographs for a few more moments, then turned to me and said, "Would you mind if I left my car here and went on a run while the girls are playing?"

Glad to get her attitude out of my house, I sharply said, "That's fine."

She snipped back, "Thank you." and found her way out the front door.

In my anger, I remember thinking to myself that it's too bad beauty like hers was wasted on such a bitch. She didn't know anything about me, or my wife, yet questioned me about her like I was hiding her in a closet or something.

I continued to smolder over the next hour or so as the girls happily played outside, then moved inside up to Lizzie's bedroom. My bitterness had just begun to cool when Stefani knocked on the front door. I opened it to find her standing there with beads of sweat and a rosy flush over her lightly tanned face, wisps of hair not as neatly tucked into her ball cap as they were earlier.

I attempted to be a civil host and offered, "Sit down. Let me get you a towel and some water."

She sat on a stool at the kitchen island while I gathered a towel and poured a glass of water. As I did, she timidly began to speak, "I'm sorry for asking about your wife. I shouldn't have pried."

The sincerity in her voice was evident and led me to offer a little more information, "It's fine to ask, and I'm happy to tell you about her. It just seemed like I was being indicted."

She hung her head and said softly, "You were. I'm sorry."

When Stefani didn't offer any more explanation, I set the glass of water in front of her and said, "My wife and Lizzie were in a car accident when Lizzie was one month old. Lizzie wasn't hurt, but Julie had a lot of internal injuries and managed to fight for 4 months before she passed. That was in Indiana. The week after the funeral, Lizzie and I packed up and moved here. I just needed to get away and find some peace."

"I'm so sorry."

I shrugged my shoulders as if to say, "It is what it is." At the same time, I glanced at her long, slender fingers wrapped around the water glass and noticed she wasn't wearing a wedding ring. I suspected she was a single parent since I hadn't heard any references to a male figure while coordinating play dates, but I didn't know that for sure.

"If I may ask, what is your family situation? Lizzie talks about Toni constantly, but I don't think I've heard anything about your family."

Stefani's voice had an edge to it when she said, "I divorced Toni's dad 4 years ago. It's just me and Toni now. We moved here in June after;”

The conversation was interrupted by the girls sliding down the banister from the loft, laughing wildly as they crashed together at the bottom of the stairs. Stefani and I chuckled as they gathered themselves off the floor and proceeded to ask for more cookies.

Stefani said, "I think you've had enough sugar for today, Toni!" She tapped her smartwatch and continued, "It's also time for us to go."

She took one more drink from the water glass, then stood up to usher Toni toward the door. On her way past me, Stefani said very genuinely, "I'm sorry for earlier."

I didn't have a chance to respond before she whisked Toni out the door and waved a quick goodbye.

Costumes.

Playdates over the next month settled back into the status quo. Whether at Stefani's house or our house, it was a simple drop-off and pick-up without any more conversation about our personal lives. Stefani's demeanor was slightly warmer than it had been previously, but she was still very guarded and somewhat business-like.

As Halloween approached, the girls conspired to go trick-or-treating in Toni's neighborhood dressed as characters from the old Addams Family television show. Toni as Wednesday Addams and Lizzie as Cousin Itt. I found an online sale for a cheap bulk box of mop heads and when they arrived the week before Halloween, Lizzie and I spent an evening cutting strands off the mop heads and pinning them to an old dress. The next night we fashioned the head covering by taking the same approach with an old stocking cap. When we finished, Lizzie tried everything on and I strategically added a few more mop clusters to bare spots. It really turned out well!

I'm sure much to the dismay of schoolteachers, Halloween fell on a Tuesday that year. Around 4:00, Lizzie started dressing in her costume and I made a few final adjustments to prevent the underlying dress from showing through the mop strands. After carefully loading Lizzie into the Jeep without damaging her costume, we made the 15-minute drive into town and parked on the street in front of Stefani and Toni's house. It was 5:00 and a few costumed little ones were beginning to roam the sidewalks.

Lizzie ran up their front walkway and eagerly rang the doorbell while I followed a little behind. A short moment later, Toni opened the door as a perfect Wednesday Addams resemblance. Pale powdered white skin, straight braided black hair, white collared dress and all. They both broke out in laughter and ran into the house.

I stepped inside and closed the door behind me as Stefani came down the staircase wearing an ever-timeless cat outfit. Black yoga pants with a tail pinned on her rear, black long-sleeve top, black cat ear headband, and black whiskers painted on her cheeks. I don't think she intended it as a "sexy kitten" outfit, but she certainly looked good in it. Her long, toned legs and womanly rear were absolutely made for yoga pants and the pin-on tail very effectively focused my attention there.

I stood there in jeans and a flannel shirt, "Well, I guess I'm underdressed for the occasion!"

Stefani smiled and paused as she thought for a second, "I think we can fix that. Just a minute."

She disappeared into the garage for a few minutes then came back in carrying a set of well-worn orange suspenders with large black lettering "Husqvarna" spaced vertically down the very wide belts. She held them out to me, "My dad accidentally left these here. You're a logger now!"

"Ha! Okay." I said as I took them from her and started to figure out how to put them on. Stefani watched with an amused look on her face as I struggled to clasp the rear straps onto the back of my jeans. After a couple unsuccessful attempts, Stefani stepped forward to assist. She quickly clasped the straps in the waistband of my jeans then adjusted the loop closures so the belts were snug over my shoulders.

"Thanks for the help. I can't say that I've ever worn suspenders before."

With that complete, the four of us left the house and began the quest for overflowing bags of Halloween gluttony. It was now dark outside and the town was in full Halloween mode with costumed children and parents filling the sidewalks.

Stefani and I admired creative costumes and chatted about various mundane topics as we all proceeded door to door through the neighborhood. She was being much more personable than she had been to date and midway through the evening, I realized that I was really enjoying her company. It had been quite some time since I had the pleasure of conversation with an adult woman, at least beyond normal exchanges with a store clerk, waitress, or teacher.

As we walked, Stefani mentioned that Toni had been asking about having a sleepover with Lizzie, to which I responded, "I'm sure Lizzie would love that."

We made trick-or-treat stops at a couple more houses before Stefani tentatively asked, "Would Friday night work for a sleepover?"

I thought out loud, "I don't think we have any plans for Friday; Yes, that should work."

Stefanie gave a sheepish smile then hesitantly said, "Would you mind if it was at your house?"

I chuckled and then joked, "Why do I feel like I was just set up?"

"I'm sorry. A guy at work asked me out for dinner and dancing with some co-workers. He really saved me when I was behind on a deadline, so I didn't feel like I could say no."

Her words said it was only an obligation, but her eyes said something different. I felt a twinge of jealousy course through my veins and didn't understand why. Up until that night, she was downright frigid toward me and I would have put her firmly in the "necessary acquaintance" category, tolerating her only because our daughters were friends.

My very practical reply was, "No worries. The girls will have a blast and I didn't have anything going on anyway. If you want, Toni can come home with us after school. We'll just swing by your house and pickup any overnight things she needs."

"Thanks, I owe you."

I asked about her job and she went on to tell me that she was an accountant for a corporation headquartered in a larger city nearby. Like me, she had the flexibility to work from home which was invaluable in making single parenting life somewhat workable. Her usual routine was to go into the office after Toni left for school, work there until early afternoon, then do the 30-minute commute to be home by the time Toni walked home from school. She would make up the few hours of lost work time throughout the evening and after Toni went to bed.

Stefani reciprocated by asking about my work, which I had just began to describe when we arrived at a house that was particularly festive with an abundance of yard decorations, strobe lighting, fog machines, and spooky music. It didn't phase the girls at all, and they eagerly went to retrieve candy from a woman in an elaborate witch outfit.

As they did, a man dressed as Captain Morgan opened a large treasure chest and called to Stefani and me, "Arr ye matees! Bootie for the Buccaneer and his First Mate!" while gesturing toward what turned out to be a disguised cooler filled with ice, beer, hard lemonade, and other assorted spirits.

It was all in good fun and I politely declined his offer using my best pirate accent. I glanced at Stefani who gave me a strangely warm smile and called, "Come on girls, let's move on!"

I wasn't sure what the smile meant, but it made me feel good.

An Overnighter.

On Friday, neither of the girls could contain their excitement as they climbed into my Jeep after school. They were bouncing on the seats, giggling and squealing as I tried to focus them on fastening their seatbelts. Once latched, the belts restrained them from bouncing on the seats, but the giggling and squealing continued all the way to Stefani's house.

When the three of us went inside to retrieve Toni's overnight bags, Stefani greeted us with several different dresses draped over her arms, obviously weighing what she should wear for the evening. She thanked me profusely for the overnight accommodation, to which I genuinely assured her was no imposition at all. Toni and Lizzie returned with a couple bags and I offered a half-hearted, "Have a great time tonight." as we walked out the door.

Bonding.

It was a cool day and the forecast was for freezing temperatures that night, so I set about starting a fire in the great room hearth as the girls carried the overnight bags up to Lizzie's bedroom. After assuring the kindling fire was well established, I began to assemble ingredients for homemade pizza and smiled internally at the sounds of them happily playing in the open loft upstairs. Toni had really been a Godsend to Lizzie and, in turn, to me.

The girls were thrilled when I called them downstairs for dinner and they saw the freshly wood-fired cheese pizza. I got huge hugs from both of them before they took plates back upstairs to watch 'Frozen' in the loft. I also grabbed a slice and settled myself in front of the fire to channel surf and relax for the evening.

A couple hours later, the girls came downstairs, roasted a few marshmallows in the fire, and promptly went back upstairs for another movie. I muted my TV for a moment and heard the familiar music of 'The Incredibles' emanating from the loft. Satisfied they weren't watching anything inappropriate, I turned my attention back to the ball game I was watching.

I turned the TV off when the ball game ended around 11:00 and noticed it was very quiet in the house. When investigating the silence upstairs, I found the girls asleep in Lizzie's double bed with the lights still on. It appeared as if they exhausted themselves to the point that they crashed in the middle of an Old Maid card game. I laughed quietly as I took a picture, texted it to Stefani, then turned out the lights.

My sleepiness was getting the best of me too, so I brushed my teeth, stripped down to my boxers, climbed in bed, and immediately fell asleep.

Night Terrors.

I was startled awake by a loud and continuous banging sound coming from downstairs. My eyes flashed to the bedside clock, 12:20pm, and I flew out of bed realizing that the banging sound was coming from someone beating on the front door. Intuitively, my hand went to the fingerprint recognition lockbox under my nightstand where I swiftly removed the .45 Beretta PX4 it housed, pre-cocking the single/double action as I ran down the stairs.

The banging stopped as I neared the door, so I paused for a deep breath and to consider my actions. All the lights were off in the house so my movements should be relatively concealed. However, the exterior porch light was on so I could easily see outside. I carefully peered out the windows adjacent to the door and didn't see anyone standing on the porch or in the gravel driveway immediately beyond. Having confirmed that, I took a tactical stance with my weapon, readied myself, and flung the door open.

What I found was Stefani collapsed in a sobbing mass just outside the doorway. Relieved that she wasn't an intruder, yet concerned about her at the same time, I exclaimed, "Stefani!" while quickly flipping the safety on the gun and setting it on a shelf by the door. Still clothed only in boxers, I crouched down and carefully lifted Stefani to her feet and into an all-consuming bearhug.

She was shaking like a leaf as I cradled her head against my shoulder, shuffled us inside the house, and closed the door. Having no idea what was wrong, I was scared to say anything for fear of making whatever it was worse, so I just held her for what seemed like an eternity.

When she eventually began to calm down a little, I said softly, "I'm here to listen whenever you want to talk; I'm here to do whatever you need; I'm here for you."

She briefly pulled her head away from my bare shoulder to look up at me through streaming tears, then returned her head to my chest before rhythmically repeating through escalating cries, "Why me?!; Why can't I escape?!; Why me?!";

Again, having no idea about the situation, my arms simply cradled her in an attempt to provide some minimal amount of comfort and protection. When she seemed to calm slightly and her chanting faded away, I guided her to the leather sofa facing the great room's stone hearth fireplace. Grabbing a box of tissues off an end table as we passed, I sat her on one end of the sofa and gently tucked a throw blanket around her arms and legs.

There were still red coals in the fireplace from earlier, so I stoked them a bit and added a few new logs as Stefani looked on while wiping her face with a handful of tissues. I glanced upward toward Lizzie's room and was happy to see the door still shut and the girls apparently still asleep.

Looking back at Stefani, I tried to lighten the mood by gesturing toward my boxers and saying, "I'm not really dressed for company. I'll go throw on some clothes."

"No, please don't leave."

The sincerity of the need was evident in her eyes so I sat next to her on the sofa and covered my lap with a throw blanket in an attempt to be somewhat gentlemanly. As soon as I was settled, Stefani shifted to rest her upper body against mine and her head on my shoulder. While repositioning, she pulled my arm around her, folded her long legs back beneath her on the sofa, then rested her hand on my bare chest.

We both sat that way for quite some time just staring into the flickering light of the fire. At some point, I noticed her breathing became slower and deeper, signaling exhaustion had overtaken whatever traumatic events occurred earlier in the evening.

As she slept, I cautiously decoupled myself from our embrace while simultaneously laying her down on the sofa. I felt a little guilty as I stood there admiring her form while she slept. A neatly tailored wool cocktail dress with intricately mottled gray herringbone fabric tastefully hugged the curves of her body. The rounded, high neckline stopped just under the chiseled wings of her collar bones and the A-line profile that would have normally ended mid-thigh, had worked much further up her long legs as I laid her down. Thankfully, a pair of black knit leggings preserved her modesty and prevented me from having to explain myself later.

I retrieved a pillow from the linen closet and carefully lifted her head to slide it underneath. I then unzipped and removed her fashionable black suede, ankle-height boots before tucking blankets over her slender but toned body.

Satisfied that she looked relatively comfortable, I put another couple logs on the fire then went upstairs to bed.

To be continued in part 2. Based on a post by Architect 23 94, in 3 parts, for Literotica.