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  But now less than a week later, he was preparing to move in.

  Thunder once again crackled from above, and like a flash of lightning striking twice, Carolyn fearlessly scampered down the stairs, her voice booming off the acoustics, “Billy—did you come to play with me?”

  Chuck impeded his daughter’s dash, swooping her into his arms. “Billy is moving into the cottage today, princess.”

  “Can I help?”

  “Are you feeling better?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell Billy how old you’re going to be tomorrow.”

  She flashed the three most inner fingers on her small hand, and then took attendance. Upon discovering she missed one, she manually raised her pinky finger. “I’m gonna be foe.”

  Billy smiled to match hers. “Four? And not even one gray hair?”

  She laughed. “You’re silly.”

  Still holding her in his huge arms, Chuck planted his face into hers. “And not even one wrinkle.”

  “That’s cuz I wear sunblock so the ubee rays don’t get me!” she exclaimed, her voice climbing octaves in a scale-like cadence: do-ra-mi-fa-so.

  Beth remained the party pooper. She walked to her daughter, all business, and placed the palm of her hand on her forehead. “Fever’s gone,” she announced to Chuck.

  He nodded as if it were the expected conclusion.

  “Can I help Billy move in, Mom, can I?” Carolyn negotiated.

  Beth’s face contorted, as if she were thinking long and hard about it, but eventually gave in. It seemed the princess always got her way in the end.

  Carolyn lit up like a Christmas tree. “Then what are we waiting for—I’m not getting any younger!”

  Chapter 2

  With Carolyn’s birthday party on Sunday and Chuck scheduled to leave for a hunting trip Monday, Saturday was the logical day for Billy to move into the cottage.

  Chuck assumed the role of muscle, while Carolyn became the unofficial foreman of the job, ordering the men around like the princess she claimed to be. Beth spent most of her time scurrying around the yard setting up for the party. But she did find time to neurotically check on Carolyn every fifteen minutes.

  “Look, Mom—I’m the momback,” Carolyn shouted to her mother as Beth once again approached. Then Carolyn turned her attention back to Billy, who was slowly backing up the Cherokee to the front of the cottage. She started waving her arm like she was directing traffic.

  “The momback?” her mother inquired.

  “I wave to Billy to tell him if there is enough room to back up and say momback…momback!”

  Chuck grinned from ear to ear, which received a stern look from his wife. “I hope you’re watching her,” she warned.

  He nodded away his grin.

  Carolyn, wearing a backwards baseball cap and a white T-shirt saluting the fictional minor league hockey team, the Charlestown Chiefs, suddenly threw up her hands and yelled, “Stop Billy!”

  Not completely trusting the soon-to-be four-year-old, Billy got a second opinion from Chuck, who confirmed his daughter’s diagnosis. Billy threw the truck into park and hopped out. He slapped Carolyn five and she flashed him a toothless grin. It exposed the grisly stitched-tongue that Billy noticed during his initial visit.

  Carolyn then moved to her mother, who first inspected her arms, and then under her shirt.

  “She’s checking me for the lime,” Carolyn explained to Billy.

  The response didn’t clear it up.

  “Actually, I’m checking for ticks so she doesn’t get Lyme disease,” Beth clarified, and then checked for a fever by pressing her palm to Carolyn’s forehead.

  “Maybe you can put her in a bubble,” Billy remarked snidely.

  Carolyn appeared excited about the idea—mentioning her fondness for bubbles, whether it be blowing them or in a bath—but Beth shot him a dirty look and stormed off. He was not off to a great start with his new landlord.

  On the next trip, Billy and Chuck moved his mattress and bed frame. Carolyn pleaded to help them move the large items, looking for a promotion from the momback.

  “Princess, you carry the small stuff. Billy and I will get the heavy things,” Chuck instructed.

  She looked dejected, but remained defiant. “I’m a big girl.”

  “I know you are. Carrying the little stuff is a big girl job.”

  After a moment of tense reflection, she appeared to accept her fate. She grabbed a pile of folders and manuscripts and marched them into the cottage.

  Billy and Chuck had just begun hooking the bed frame together when they heard Carolyn let out an ominous “uh-oh!” They looked up just in time to witness her crashing to the ground, Billy’s folders flying everywhere.

  Billy moved quickly to gather his belongings, but Chuck beat him to a glossy photo of an attractive female. Her radiant blonde hair and sparkling smile almost jumped off the page. She stood next to a tuxedoed and youthful looking Billy Harper at a college formal.

  Chuck viewed the photo and half sang, half said, “Brenda and Eddie were the popular steady and the king and the queen at the prom, eh?”

  Billy wasn’t affected by the picture of his ex-wife, Kelly. It was from Ohio State, almost fifteen years ago. Flustered, he scrambled to secure the other photos—the more recent ones—the ones that reminded him of the things she stole from him. He couldn’t bear to look at those pictures. He shoved them back into the package—back into the rear-view mirror where they belonged.

  “Is that your wife?” Chuck asked.

  “Ex-wife,” Billy muttered, stashing away the last photo to safety.

  Chuck didn’t push it.

  “What’s an ex-wife?” Carolyn asked.

  “Just grownup stuff,” Chuck told her.

  “I’m a big girl,” she announced again. She seemed annoyed that the grownups weren’t catching on to the concept.

  Chuck picked her up in his arms and kissed her on her Coppertone smelling cheek. “A big girl would know not to run while she’s carrying stuff.”

  “I’m sorry, Daddy.” Her lip quivered as she laid it on thick.

  Chuck’s stern look melted like a snowman on the first day of spring. Another victory for the princess.

  Chapter 3

  In the late afternoon, the hungry movers took a break for lunch. Billy sat with Carolyn at an umbrella-covered table on a wooden roof-porch that was built atop the cottage, while Chuck grilled deer meat from his last hunting trip. He went into great detail about how he defeated the deer in an epic one-on-one battle, leaving out the tiny detail that he possessed a high-powered shotgun and the deer was defenseless. It was reminiscent of when Billy tried to fight the Kleins, his former in-laws.

  Chuck described the taste as gamey, which Billy soon learned was another word for pretty disgusting. Losing interest in the food, Billy viewed the extensive grounds of Bevelyn Farms from their perch, and exclaimed with admiration, “This place is amazing.”

  Chuck expounded that the main house had been a milking barn for cows. And back when the farm was originally converted to dairy, the cottage was built to be an icehouse to store the milk, which explained its thickly insulated walls and few windows. He went on to mention that when he and Beth moved in, the cottage still had an “ice chute” that jetted from what was now Billy’s loft bedroom. But they had it taken out when Carolyn began using it as a slide.

  “The converted barn takes up seven-thousand square feet and uses over a thousand gallons of oil to heat the thing in the winter!” Chuck detailed.

  Billy had trouble evoking sympathy for the filthy rich. “Why is it called Bevelyn Farms?”

  “Beth’s grandmother, Beverly, was the owner. Years back, she divorced Beth’s grandfather because of,” he performed air-quotes with his hands, “her good friend, Evelyn. They bought the farm with Beverly’s divorce settlement, moved in together, and named it after themselves.”

  Billy smiled with surprise. “Really?”

  “Brokeback Mountain had nothing on Bev
elyn Farms,” he said with a hearty chuckle. “When Beverly died last year, Evelyn decided she couldn’t bear to live here without Beverly, so it was willed to Beth. We couldn’t turn down a chance to raise Carolyn in a place like this.”

  “Great Granny’s ‘going-away’ party is in two days,” Carolyn exclaimed.

  Billy was confused. “I thought you said she died last year?”

  Chuck interjected, “Beverly’s wishes were to have her ashes tossed into the Long Island Sound within forty-eight hours of her death. But Evelyn refused to part with her, and hijacked her to Florida, where she now lives. It took a year of heavy negotiations to get her to finally hand over the urn, so the ceremony is slated for Monday.”

  “But you’ll be on your hunting trip.”

  Chuck smiled wryly. “Funny how that worked out. But luckily you’ll be here to stand in for me.”

  Billy knew beggars couldn’t be choosers, so he didn’t quibble. Instead, he turned his attention to Carolyn. She couldn’t eat solid food, so her lunch consisted of a bowl of barbecue sauce that she washed down with big gulps of strawberry milk. All Billy knew about the tongue injury was that it had something to do with the “incident” in which she was expelled from nursery school, creating the need for someone to watch her in the afternoons.

  Neither father nor daughter seemed to want to talk about it, but Billy finally had to ask, “What happened to your tongue?”

  “I bit it—they had to sew it back on,” she casually stated.

  “You bit off your tongue?”

  “I tried to trick the other kids in school that I was Dracula, and pretended I was gonna suck their blood. So I made blood go down my chin. But then everybody got mad.” She shrugged, looking perplexed. “I was just havin’ fun.”

  Billy didn’t know what to say. Biting off your tongue is fun? But it did explain why she was no longer welcome in school.

  She didn’t seem to want to dwell on the incident, and skillfully changed the subject, “Billy…last night…in my room…a big dragon was there.”

  “Wow, that’s scary,” he played along.

  “But he didn’t know that fireflies were hiding in there and they got in a big fight!”

  The tale continued getting stranger, before Chuck stepped in. “Carolyn—what did your mother and I tell you about fibbing?”

  Carolyn sighed. “I’m just not gonna apologize for havin’ a good imagination.”

  The men couldn’t help but to laugh. Proud of herself for making a funny, Carolyn showed off her big toothless grin. But the gruesome tongue was still lurking in the shadows.

  Chuck explained to Billy that Carolyn believes fireflies fight off dragons, and she makes him help her collect them each night before she goes to bed.

  “I’ll bet a girl with such a good imagination likes movies. What’s your favorite movie, Carolyn? I’m guessing Sleeping Beauty or Lion King,” Billy said.

  She pointed proudly at her shirt. “Slap Shot!” she shouted, followed by a pretty good imitation of the eccentric, optically challenged Hanson Brothers, who played hockey enforcers in the movie. “Put the foil on, coach.”

  “You watch that movie?” Billy asked, surprised. Slap Shot was a 1970s cult-classic about a minor league hockey team called the Charlestown Chiefs, starring Paul Newman. Not exactly age appropriate.

  “It’s my favorite. But don’t worry, Billy, I cover my ears when they say the bad words,” she said, putting her tiny hands over her ears, peek-a-boo style.

  He smiled. “You play hockey?”

  “I play, but I’m not as good as my dad,” she said in her excited do-ra-mi cadence.

  “You played professionally?” he asked Chuck

  “He was a goony,” Carolyn blurted.

  “A goony?”

  She put her little dukes up like she was ready to spar a few rounds with Ali.

  “Oh, like the enforcer,” Billy caught on. The goon’s job description has always been to protect his teammates, often by use of force. With Chuck’s size, Billy was sure he performed well in the role.

  “Eighteen years in the minors and I have the aching joints to prove it,” Chuck added proudly.

  Billy was going to mention that he was once the star quarterback for Ohio State University and the MVP of the Rose Bowl, but he doubted Chuck would believe him, and besides, it seemed like a different lifetime. He chose to remain quiet while Chuck quizzed his daughter on the important elements of life.

  “What’s icing?”

  “When one team hits the puck out of their own zone and it crosses two lines.”

  “How many minutes do you get in the penalty box for high sticking?”

  She stuck up two fingers like she was giving a peace sign.

  “That’s my girl, eh.”

  Chapter 4

  As they moved the final items, the sun began to sink behind the woodsy surroundings, turning the late afternoon into a Norman Rockwell painting. They first unloaded Billy’s computer stand and modest television. They saved the heavy bookcase for last.

  Billy and Chuck were struggling to set up the computer when they heard the crash. Billy was under the computer stand with a flashlight, trying to find the right plug for the USB attachment. He dropped the flashlight and banged his head.

  When he got outside, Chuck was already on the scene. There was no way to know why Carolyn tried to pull the bookcase off the back of the Cherokee by herself. There was also no way to know how she did it, but the rope used to secure it to the back of the truck was the probable culprit.

  The bookcase rested fiendishly on top of her, only her small head was visible. Blood flowed like Niagara Falls. Most troubling was that there was no scream—no sign of life. Billy stood motionless, staring at the bloody scene in front of him.

  Chuck, kneeling by his daughter’s head, turned and shouted, “Billy!”

  But Billy remained in a trance. They used to rave back in his quarterbacking days about how he always remained calm under the pressure. “Cool as a cucumber,” was the common term of praise. But right now Billy was cracking under the weight of the pressure like he was the one trapped under the heavy object.

  “Billy—c’mon!” Chuck shouted again.

  The light suddenly went on and Billy sprung into action, sprinting to the accident scene and helping to lift the bookcase off the little girl.

  Carolyn remained in a fetal position, the blood continuing to flow from her left temple, painting her once-white Charlestown Chiefs T-shirt a shade of crimson.

  Chuck ripped off his shirt and held it over the gash.

  Billy was relieved to see her eyes open. She looked more stunned than anything else. Once it was determined that she was still in one piece, Chuck began the reprimanding. The parenting books might tell you to apply a calm approach, but it wasn’t their daughter who was almost the lead story on the local news.

  Once he made his point, he pulled her into his arms. As father and daughter embraced, Billy was drawn by a strange “what’s the big deal?” look on her bloodied face. Billy ran into the cottage and retrieved a wet cloth. He quickly returned and dabbed it on her wound. When he touched the raw cut she didn’t even flinch.

  “Are you okay, princess?” Chuck asked her as he inspected the wound.

  “I’m better than the bookcase,” she replied, viewing the multiple pieces that were strewn across the lawn like driftwood.

  “I thought I told you the heavy stuff was for grownups?”

  “But I…”

  “No buts, Carolyn, you need to listen to me,” Chuck again turned stern.

  “I just wanted to help,” she whimpered. Her face tensed, and then the tears began to flow.

  “What do you say to Billy?”

  “I’m sorry about the bookcase, Billy,” she sniffled.

  “I’m just glad you’re okay,” Billy said and again dabbed her wound. Still no flinch. “Didn’t it hurt?” he asked.

  Carolyn looked up at him with a clueless daze, crocodile tears continuing to s
tream down her face.

  Beth arrived in hysterics. She grabbed Carolyn away from Chuck and inspected her head. The gash wasn’t pretty. A vein popped out of Beth’s forehead. “What happened?”

  “I broke Billy’s bookcase, but I’m gonna give him mine,” Carolyn said.

  Beth glared at the two men. “Where were you two?”

  “We were inside and…” Chuck ventured into the rough waters.

  “Inside?” she cut him off. “You left a three-year-old alone around heavy objects? Even for men, you two take the cake!”

  “I told her to leave the heavy stuff alone,” Chuck helplessly flailed.

  Beth looked indignant. “Oh, you told her? Well, that should’ve solved the problem. Have I mentioned that she’s three years old?!”

  Carolyn tried to plead her case that she was almost four, but was ignored.

  Chuck attempted to make one last case, but received a strong, “I don’t want to hear it.” He wasn’t going to win this battle and wisely retreated.

  Beth then turned to Carolyn, and her tone calmed, “Why don’t we go get that cut cleaned up?”

  “Can I get a Big Bird Band-Aid?” Carolyn asked with surprising excitement. Her tears dried up like the Sahara.

  “We’ll see.”

  Beth held the little girl’s hand as they walked into the sunset. Carolyn held the rag over her gash with her free hand.

  From a distance, Billy heard Carolyn’s joyful giggle. He couldn’t help thinking that something was off. And not just because she found joy in an accident that would’ve sent most kids to the emergency room. It was the unnaturalness of her reaction. It reminded him of a movie he once saw where an alien accidentally landed on Earth and tried to assimilate itself into society by pretending to be human.

  But then Billy remembered it wasn’t an alien who fell to Earth in the movie—it was an angel.

  Chapter 5

  After a long day of moving furniture in the heat, Chuck suggested Mexican food, while Billy craved anything that would remove the gamey taste from his mouth. Chuck also conceded that there was a good possibility that Beth had locked him out of the house after the “bookcase incident.” So they passed over the New Canaan border into the neighboring city of Norwalk and ended up at a Mexican restaurant/bar called Durazzo’s.