The Setup and the Substitute by Jiffy Kate

Chapter 12

Sophie

Shufflingmy feet to the door, I try to appear somewhat together before opening it.

Thankfully, it’s just a delivery man holding a box.

“Hi,” I say, keeping my distance so as not to infect this unknowing man with the strep throat that’s now running rampant through the Thatcher house. Both kids are laying in my bed, watching a movie. Since we’re all sick, I figured it was no use keeping them separate. And I like them with me so I can keep an eye on their fevers and give them their medication when they need it.

“I have a delivery for Sophie Callahan,” he says, glancing down at his iPad.

“That’s me,” I say, my voice raspy and weak.

“Sign here.” He hands me the iPad and then rolls the box that’s on a dolly into the foyer.

Once he’s back out on the front step, I tell him thank you and close the door behind me.

Bending over, I inspect the shipping label, but it doesn’t give much away.

Who could’ve sent me something here? The only people that even know I’m working here are my family and Greer. Well, the school now knows too. But I can’t imagine what any of them would’ve sent, especially in a box this size.

After peeking in on the kids, I grab some scissors from the kitchen and cut through the tape on the box. On top is an envelope, so I open it first.

Sophie,

I’m so sorry you’re sick and I wish I could be there for you and the kids. Hope this box gives all three of you some comfort and helps you feel better ASAP.

Owen

The note is short, but I have to read it one more time for it to register. Maybe it’s the fact I’m caught off-guard or the medicine I’m now taking, but my brain is slow to catch up.

Owen sent us a box.

And he wishes he could be here for me and the kids.

My eyes prick with tears as I begin to sift through the contents—soup, bread, cookies, a blanket with my name on it and two individually wrapped gifts for the kids.

This might be the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me when I’ve been sick, or ever, for that matter. Wiping the back of my hand across my cheek, I stand and scoot the box into the kitchen. After putting away the food, I take the blanket and gifts for the kids to the bedroom.

Their eyes immediately brighten when I read them their personalized notes from Owen and then they see what’s inside the packages—a stuffed unicorn for Molly and a new stuffed dinosaur for Ryan.

“Can we call him?” Molly asks.

“Sure,” I tell them, crawling onto the bed and spreading the new blanket out over all three of us. Grabbing my phone, I hit Owen’s number, but all we get is voicemail. After we leave a message, I check the time and realize he’s probably already at the stadium, preparing for tonight’s game.

“I’m sure he’ll call us back when he gets a chance,” I tell them. “But I bet if you give those stuffed animals an extra squeeze, he’ll feel those hugs all the way in California.”

That gets me a soft giggle from Molly, and I watch as Ryan immediately clutches the dinosaur to his chest. According to Owen, it’s usually Molly who’s more emotional when he’s gone, but I think Ryan is one of those kids who just wants his dad when he’s not feeling well—knowing Owen will do everything in his power to make it better.

It’s enough to make my chest ache, like it did two nights ago when he was sobbing for his dad over the phone.

One more sleep and Owen will be back.

The team’s flight is scheduled to land at six o’clock tomorrow evening. Through my haze of sickness and worry over the kids, an anticipation and anxiousness over Owen’s return has seeped through.

What will it be like co-existing in this house with him?

Will he need me to stay around the clock like when he’s gone?

Will we have meals together?

What will that be like?

The questions floating through my head are endless and I try to put them out of my mind, knowing there’s no sense worrying about tomorrow, or anything else that’s out of my control.

Tomorrow will take care of itself.

Isn’t that how the saying goes?

“I’m hungry,” Ryan says, holding his dinosaur out in front of him. “So is Ducky.”

“Ducky?” I ask, rising up to see Ryan a little better. “Is that your dinosaur's name?”

He nods, bringing him for another hug. “Like in the movie.”

“Oh, that’s right,” I say, sitting up and swinging my legs to the edge of the bed. My head is feeling woozy, but if Ryan and Ducky are hungry, then I’m going to feed them. This is the first time he’s mentioned food since he woke up with a fever. I’ve been forcing popsicles and Pedialyte down him for the past day.

“You mean The Land Before Time?” I ask, remembering that Owen has introduced Ryan to those old movies.

Ryan nods again. He hasn’t been his chatty self, but I don’t blame him. If his throat feels anything like mine, it’s painful to talk.

“You know what else your dad sent us?” I ask, standing from the bed.

Molly’s eyes brighten. “What?”

“Soup and cookies,” I whisper. “How about we go to the kitchen and see how good they are?”

Maybe it’s the fact Owen sent the food or that we haven’t eaten much, but it’s the best damn soup I’ve ever had. The cookies are amazing too. Both kids have a small bowl of soup and nibble on a cookie. I wrap up the leftovers and put them back in the fridge. Hopefully, this is a turning point and they’ll be ready for something more substantial soon.

Once I have them settled back in bed with the new coloring books that were also in the box, I take a few minutes to call in a flower order for my mom for Mother’s Day. With everything going on, I kind of lost track of time. After the florist, I text my sister and tell her I’m sending over the money for the spa package. When I’m finished, I glance up to see Molly watching me from her spot on the bed.

“Who were you texting?” she asks, half her attention on me and half on the picture she’s coloring.

“My sister,” I tell her, putting my phone back on the nightstand and plugging it into the charger.

“Do you have a brother?”

Settling back on the pillow, I smile. “Yes, I have four brothers.”

She looks at me, eyes wide. “Four?”

I can’t help my chuckle. No doubt, she’s imagining three more Ryans and her reaction is adorable.

“How old are they?”

Grabbing the blanket Owen sent, I throw it over my legs, loving the softness and the feeling of comfort it brings. “Well, my oldest brother, Harrison, is thirty-six. Then, there’s William, but I call him Liam. He’s thirty-three. Grayson is twenty-eight and Bennett is twenty-six.”

“They’re old,” she says matter-of-factly.

Trying to keep a straight face, I nod. “Yeah, they’re kind of old.” The relativity of age comes in stages. I remember thinking twenty-four was old, but now that I’m here, it doesn’t feel old at all. And although the thought of being thirty-six, like Harrison, or sixty-three, like my dad, seems old now, I know when I get there, it’ll feel young.

Or maybe that’s my wishful thinking kicking in?

“Can I meet them?” Molly asks thoughtfully as she concentrates on staying inside the lines as she colors a flower.

I love how open and inquisitive she is. She reminds me of myself when I was her age. I remember wanting to know everything about everything. I think my curiosity is what drove my wanderlust and need for travel.

“Maybe one of these days,” I tell her.

A few minutes pass and then the questions start up again. “Why did you order flowers?”

“Oh, for my mom because tomorrow is Mother’s Day.” I don’t tell her about missing brunch because I don’t want her to feel bad. “She really likes peonies, so I’m having some delivered to her house tomorrow.”

Putting down her crayon, she leans back on the bed and pulls her unicorn in for a hug. She’s so quiet that for a minute, I think she’s tired herself out and is possibly taking a nap, but then I hear her sigh. It sounds sad, so I tilt my head to see her face.

“Everything okay?” I ask, my hand going to her forehead. She doesn’t feel warm, but her throat might be hurting. “Do you need a popsicle or some juice?”

She shakes her head.

“Water?”

Another shake of her head.

“Are you tired? I can turn on a movie in your room if you want to go in there and rest.”

She gives her head another shake. “I’m not tired.”

“What’s wrong then?”

“I missed making Mother’s Day cards in class,” she finally admits, her eyes turned down. “Mrs. Smith said we were making paper flowers and cards, but I missed it.”

“Oh,” I say, my brows furrowing because I don’t know what to say. “We could make something here,” I tell her, trying to think of a way to help her not feel so sad.

“It’s okay,” she whispers. “She’s not coming home anyway.”

That statement hurts my heart, so I wrap my arm around Molly’s shoulders and pull her close.

She might only be six, but it’s obvious her mother’s absence affects her deeply. I can only imagine how that feels, because even though my mother wasn’t the most loving parent in the world, she was always around. I’ve never known what it’s like to be abandoned by someone.

But I’m sure it does some damage, even on kids their age.

Ryan seems oblivious to our conversation, but when he leans into Molly and rests his head on her shoulder, I get the feeling he’s wise beyond his years and understands what she’s feeling.

We don’t talk for a long while, letting the movie play on in the background.