Though I consider defending Pixie by explaining how she used the toilet just fine last night, I keep my mouth shut. Lana takes the same tact.
“What’s in the bag?” I ask when Topanga starts creeping toward the master bedroom on my left. I suspect she hears Pixie’s family laughing and wants to snoop.
“Well, you’re keeping them, yes?” Topanga asks, talking to me as if I’m the hippie weirdos she thinks crap in the yard.
“I don’t know if the mom will stay here for long. But I plan to keep them until it’s safe for them to return.”
“Oh, they won’t go back,” Topanga says, winking at me. “Who would give up all this luxury to live in a hut?”
“I think it’s a tent.”
“Same difference, Anders,” she says, poking my gut. “So, this hippie girl must be quite a beauty.”
Whatever Lana and Topanga see on my face, they share a smile.
“What’s in the bag?” I ask again.
“Those clothes I brought over won’t fit the baby. A few honeys donated some of their boys’ toddler clothes for Pixie’s brother. Diapers too, and a few toys. It’ll hold him over until you can get to the store.”
“Bronco said the sister is around Summer’s age and size,” Lana adds, mentioning Bronco’s fifteen-year-old daughter. “I borrowed some of her clothes. Shoes are tricky, though.”
“Look at you,” Topanga says, her voice getting high-pitched. “A woman and a teenager and a baby and a mother-in-law.”
“I know you’re trying to help,” I say through gritted teeth, “but I’m not ready to think of all that.”
Topanga doesn’t believe in personal space. The first day we met, she spelled out how things would be. Everyone’s space was Topanga’s space. Today, she hugs me and pats my back.
“You’re overwhelmed by having four strangers in your home. That’s a sensible feeling, but this is a big house. You can find plenty of places to hide from them.”
“This is a sweet thing you’ve done,” Lana tells me. “I know you care about the girl, but you’re helping her whole family. Not a lot of people would do that. It shows you have a good heart.”
Lana’s words are kind, but they come out sounding awkward as fuck. I don’t think she’s gotten the hang of being the queen of the Woodlands at Dry Creek yet.
“I don’t know what to do with them.”
“Well, first off, do any of them need to see a doctor?” Topanga asks, inching closer to the bedroom before darting inside to leave the bag in the bathroom.
I frown at where she disappears. Her voice carries as she pokes her head into the bathroom and explains about the clothes. I hear other voices in response. My gaze returns to Lana.
“She held off as long as she could,” she explains, shrugging.
We share a smile. “I don’t know how to take care of a kid.”
“Can’t the mom take care of him?”
Frowning, I nod. “Yeah, no doubt.”
“Then you should just worry about feeding them and giving them areas to play. The kids, I mean. When I first visited Bronco’s house, that’s what he did. Fed us and gave us space to relax. He didn’t hold our hands and watch our every move. I don’t think you need to do that, either.”
“What about the stairs?” I ask and then walk over to pick up a chair from the family room. I carry the recliner to the stairs where I drop it in front. “The kid can walk. He could climb up and fall from the walkway.”
Lana and I look up at the area running from one set of bedrooms to another.
“Your house is just like Bronco’s house,” she says and then mumbles, “I mean our house.”
“I liked his house.”
Lana’s blue eyes size me up and then look around the family room and kitchen nearby. She must notice a few differences in the cabinet colors and furniture. I assume that’s why she stops frowning as if I’m a stalking bitch.
“They’re fun,” Topanga says, reappearing from the bedroom. Her smile falters a bit when she adds, “Underfed. You should make sure they get the right number of calories to put on weight quickly.”
Again, the women react to something on my face. Lana gives me a sympathetic smile.
“We’ll research that,” she says.
Topanga nods. “And I’ll see about doctor visits.”
“I don’t know if they’ll want that.”
“Well, the baby should get checked. He’s nothing but skin, bones, and an adorable head,” Topanga says and sighs. “The mother got a nasty beating. It’s good you took them out of that place. A real hero.”
Even knowing how Topanga babies me, I don’t ask her to stop. I’m overwhelmed by so many people in my usually empty house.
“What do I do next?”
“I will help you if you let me,” Topanga says, holding my gaze with her big eyes. “Bronco is also sending over his sisters.”
“Well,” Lana mutters, “they’re mostly sending themselves over.”
“They’re curious, but we told them to hold off until tomorrow. For today, we’ll figure out what your family needs.” Topanga notices the chair at the stairs and smiles at me. “You’re so cute sometimes.”
“I haven’t put one by the basement. I don’t even know where they’ll sleep.”
“Now, I’m not an anthropologist versed in the living habits of Ohio hippies,” Topanga says, and Lana snickers. “However, I sense you should let them settle gently into this new life.”
“Do they have electricity and running water at the Village?” Lana asks.
“Some parts do. I don’t think Pixie’s family was that lucky, though. They’re new to the community.”
“Where did they live beforehand?”
“We were Dandelions,” Fairuza announces as she exits the bedroom with Future in her arms.
The little boy's wild, wavy hair drips on his firetruck shirt, and he holds a toy block in his little fingers.
“What’s that?” Topanga asks about the Dandelion thing.
Fairuza glances at Pixie, who smiles at me. I don’t know what the mother sees
