Coast Guard Courtship

The boy’s lower lip wobbled. “Mimi always reads me a story.”

Braeden noticed the hardcover picture book tucked under Max’s arm.

Honey let out a gust of air. “Mimi’s not here right now, Max.” She threw up her hands. “And just look at me. Just look at the mess you’ve made of me—not to mention the bathroom.”

Braeden moved out of his chair. “I’ll read Max the story. Would that be okay?” He edged toward the sofa. “Probably not be as good as Mimi, but I’ll give it my best shot.”

Seth shook his head. “Not your responsibility, Braeden, though I appreciate the offer.”

“It’s me Amelia is avoiding.” Braeden shrugged. “Besides, it’ll be fun hanging out with Max before he goes to bed.” He cocked his head at the boy on the stairs. “You will go to bed after we read the story, won’t you?”

Honey teetered on the step. He and Seth both held their breath. Max nodded. Everyone else exhaled in relief.

Seth grasped the armrests and heaved himself to his feet. “And I’m going to have a little talk with another family member of mine, one Amelia Anne Duer.”

Honey paused at the landing. “She’s shy around people she doesn’t know, Dad. Don’t be too hard on her.”

Seth tucked in his shirt. “She’s stubborn is what she is.”

Honey sniffed. “Apples don’t fall far from the tree.”

Seth gave his other daughter a crooked smile. “Same could be said for you, too, baby girl.”

With a cautious look, Max ventured off the stairs as Seth made for the door and his aunt sailed upstairs. Using only the tips of his fingers, Max extended the book to Braeden. And Braeden, for the first time, began to wonder what he’d gotten himself into. An only child, he’d never been good with kids.

Or maybe he’d simply never had the opportunity to learn.

“So what do we have here?” Braeden opened the storybook and smiled. “One of my favorites when I was a boy.”

He was more than a little relieved to realize he knew the story. And that the boy’s literary appetites didn’t run to something the length of War and Peace. Although if he stalled long enough, perhaps Amelia would come back into the house.

Braeden patted the seat cushion beside him. “Hop on up and we’ll begin.”

Sticking his hand into the pocket of his pj’s, Max retrieved his miniature muscle car. “Mimi makes noises when she reads.”

“Noises?”

It was a story, Braeden recollected, about a plucky little sailboat exploring the deep blue sea.

Max nodded and scrambled beside Braeden. The little boy flipped past the title and copyright page. “It starts with the wind in the sails. Mimi makes wind sounds like this.”

He demonstrated by sucking in his cheeks and blowing out small puffs of air. Max recited the first five lines from memory. The clean, just-bathed scent of the little boy reminded Braeden of the boy he’d once been. And of the parents who once read this same story to him.

Braeden let go of the book. “Sounds as though you don’t need me to read it to you. You know it by heart.”

All motion ceased. Max’s eyes shot up to Braeden’s. A pucker creased the ridge between his eyes. “I guess so...” His voice faded and Max looked down at the tiny car he clutched in his hand.

“But...” Braeden swallowed against the unexpected feeling. “Since it’s been a long time since I read the story, maybe you and I—we—could read it together. You could coach me on the parts I’ve forgotten or if I don’t do the sounds like Mimi.”

“Really?” Max blinked at him.

“How about it?”

Max snuggled closer, and before long Braeden found himself as caught up in the story of the brave little sailboat as Max. They laughed together at the funny seagull parts. They groaned as the sailboat’s timbers shivered in the midst of a typhoon and high waves.

By the time they reached the climax where the boat sighted a distant, welcoming shore, Max had curled into Braeden’s lap.