Til Debt Do Us Part (Married At Midnight #4)

Chapter 11

Eleven

Talia

I stare at the blank brick wall, a canvas of possibility. The early morning light casts shadows across its uneven surface as ideas swirl in my mind.

I can feel the tension between me and Dare lingering like an oppressive fog. I have to shake it off, bring my entire mind back to this mural. I take a deep breath to clear my head and focus on the task at hand. This blank wall is in need of some love and attention. I scrunch up my face, thinking that the left side could be the perfect place to start.

I feel the sun on my back and a sense of anticipation bubbling up from within. I am finally doing something I've planned for quite a while; I'm helping to create something beautiful in this long-neglected area of town.

My swollen belly leads the way as I shuffle forward, paint cans clanking in my arms. The smell of fresh paint mingles with exhaust fumes. A city bus wheezes past, brakes screeching.

Beside me, Dare claps his hands and rubs them together, turning away from the wall and toward the group of Hope House kids. We've gathered an eclectic crew - a gaggle of wide-eyed children, their small hands clutching oversized paintbrushes.

He crouches, putting himself on their level. "What should we paint today? What story will we tell on this blank canvas?"

He waves toward the wall.His sleeves are rolled up, a smudge of blue paint already streaking his cheek.

One boy raises his hand and then shouts, "A bus full of kids on a ride!"

Dare nods. "We can put that over here, on a hill maybe?" His hand waves toward one side of the blank canvas. "Maybe we'll do a landscape. The sun in the top left over a pretty blue sky. Then maybe pieces of our town below? We could paint a bus full of kids on the way to school."

Solana walks over to me, her dark pigtails bouncing, a huge smile on her face.

"What are you painting?" she asks me, brown eyes dancing.

I smile down at her eager face. "That's up to you. A forest? The sea? Our town?"

Her nose crinkles in thought. She points to my belly. "Let's paint a baby! No, ten thousand babies! Ten million mothers, holding their babies."

Laughter bubbles up. "Let's start with one mom with one baby for now. Does that sound good?"

She nods. "What about Dare? What is he painting?"

"Why don't you ask?" I suggest.

She pushes up the strap of her pink overalls, turning toward Dare. Marching over to him, she asks him a question. They're too far away from me to hear it but the look of happiness that lights up his entire being makes my heart ache.

Dare doesn't know it, but he was born to do this work with these kids. I think he needs it even more than I do.

Dare lifts Solana onto his shoulders with a grin. She squeals in delight and he chuckles.

Aunt Minnie walks up, pointing to my husband with a paintbrush dripping with orange paint.

"He's changing," she says.

I press my hands to my belly, where the baby is currently doing somersaults. "You're right. He's becoming the father I know he can be. The man behind the billionaire facade."

Minnie wiggles her eyebrows at me.

"It's about damn time. I thought he would always be a selfish little boy."

I smile, shrugging a shoulder. Minnie seems to be looking for some kind of response to her allegation, so I slide my arm around her bony shoulders and ask her to help instruct the children on how to decide what they want to paint. I always ask Minnie where her inspiration comes from and I'm met with a puzzled glance.

But today she happily starts asking a small group of kids what they think should go in the bottom right corner of the mural. The kids are downright jubilant, and her question is met with several shouted suggestions.

I turn, cupping my hands to my mouth to call to everyone present.

"Alright troops," I called out. "Let's make some magic..."

Brushes swish through paint cans, vivid hues spreading. With each stroke, our mural comes alive - a fantastical landscape emerges. Greens and blues, purples and golds. Beauty transforming bland brick into a vision.

Solana perches on a step ladder adding finishing touches, an artist in her element. Her tiny handiwork brings it all together. As I step back to admire, she slips. Dare lunges, catches her just in time.

"My hero," she proclaims, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Pride swells within me. This, right here?

This is the found family I have always wanted. However unexpected, we're in this together. Creating something beautiful from scraps and fragments. Making connections that you can't put a price on. This is the image that will remain with me long after the paint has faded. A lasting imprint on my heart.

Solana's bossiness emerges as she directs the other children where to paint. "No, not there! Over here!"

She points insistently and waits until her words are turned into actions.

One boy's face falls at her tone. I'm about to intervene when Solana notices his reaction. She touches his shoulder gently, voice softening.

"I'm sorry. Will you please paint the sun right here? Your suns are always so bright and happy."

The boy beams and gets to work. Solana glances my way, as if seeking approval. I give her an encouraging nod. She's learning, taking steps from self-centeredness toward empathy.

"Lookin' good over here," Aunt Minnie says, taking a break from kneeling. "Seems like Dare is enjoying himself."

I follow her gaze to where Dare and Solana are working side-by-side. A smile tugs at my lips. "He's really embraced this. I think it's been good for him."

Minnie gives me a knowing look. "That little girl sure has stolen his heart."

"She's special. But also the first child Dare has ever really known." I sigh. "Makes me wonder what will happen when she leaves Hope House."

"She's been here for a long time. It's been longer than expected," Minnie agrees. "But her time will come."

"Yeah. I keep thinking how crushed his heart is going to be." I pull a face.

"It'll be as flat as a pumpkin run over by a semi. At least, that's what you were like the first time a kid you had bonded with graduated to a foster family."

Sadness washes through me. I wrinkle my nose. "Her name was Jacqueline Bolton. I remember her as though it was only yesterday."

Minnie pats my arm before rushing over to stop a little girl from adding a huge glob of black paint to the middle of the town skyline.

We take a snack break, and my husband Dare turns to me with a thoughtful expression.

"So, if we wanted to foster Solana... what would that entail?"

My heart cracks and warps at his kind impulse. God, he really is going to have the worst kind of heartbreak when she eventually goes to a foster home.

I take a deep breath and explain the complications.

"Well, first of all, it would require an assessment of our family dynamics. A home study process."

I go on to detail the application process, including references from friends and family, background checks, and training courses to prepare us for parenting a child in need.

"We don't have any kids, so we'd have to take a lot of parenting classes. Plus," I add, "the state has strict guidelines about who is eligible for fostering." I bit my lip, not wanting to dampen Dare's enthusiasm. "It may be more difficult than you think, especially since we don't really have a dedicated home."

Dare shoots me an odd look. "But I'm rich. I can make anything happen. The state should be falling all over itself to have me as a foster parent. And with you along for the ride, I don't see how they could say no."

I shake my head, marveling at how little Dare understands about the system. "It's not about money, Dare. It's about stability, safety, and love."

Dare leans closer to me, his eyes searching mine. "Do you think we could provide those things for Solana?"

I pause, staring at him in disbelief. Is he really considering this? The idea of Dare and I being foster parents seems so far-fetched, but the thought of having Solana in our lives forever fills me with warmth.

"I think we could definitely provide those things for her," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "But it's not an easy process. If we go through with it and get disqualified for some reason, Solana would be shattered."

He nods slowly, processing the information. "I understand," he says. He puts his arm around me and draws me close. "I just want to help her."

"I know you do." I kiss his cheek. "One step at a time."

For now, we have this moment. Paint-splattered and laughing, connected through art. And I know - everything will work out just as it should.

I take a step back, surveying the scene before me. The once-barren wall is now bursting with color, brought to life by little hands. Dare stands in the center, paint smeared across his expensive shirt. Yet he doesn't seem to mind at all.

A warmth spreads through me as I watch my husband gently guide the children. With patience and care, he shows them how to hold the brushes just so. How to mix the paints into new shades.

"Like this?" a little girl asks, seeking his approval.

Dare smiles. "Perfect. I love the purple you created."

Aunt Minnie sidles up beside me. "Well would you look at that," she says, nudging my arm. "Seems fatherhood agrees with him already."

I nod, my throat tightening. "I know. Who would've thought?"

Just months ago Dare was closed-off, sheltered. Volunteering here has coaxed out a new side of him. A gentle, nurturing side I'd never seen before.

As if sensing my gaze, Dare glances my way. The pure joy on his face makes my heart skip. In that moment I just know.

He is ready for this. Ready to embrace the changes coming to our lives.

No matter what uncertainties lie ahead, we will face them together. As a family.

During a break, Dare comes over. His eyes shine as he looks at the mural taking shape.

"Dare, if we foster Solana, what happens to the next child who comes to Hope House needing care?"

Dare blinks, seeming confused.

"I know you've grown close to her," I continue. "But our role here is to help whichever child needs us most. We can't play favorites."

Dare falls silent. Solana hops down and tugs his hand, ready to paint again. As he allows himself to be led back to the wall, Dare turns back.

"I just want to help," he says at last. "However I can."

I smile softly. Rising up on my tiptoes, I plant a kiss on his cheek.

"I know," I whisper. "Just something for you to think about."

His eyes search mine. After a moment he nods, squeezing my hand.

We return to the mural, side by side. There is still so much work to be done. But we will face it as a team.