She was very shy and she looked like she was about three. “Yes, I wike spaghetti,” she said so softly I could hardly hear her. She was so cute I thought my heart would stop.
“Can I hug you, baby?” I asked her.
She hesitated and looked up at her mother. Syndy nodded, and she came forward, putting her chubby little arms around my neck and I hugged her tiny form up tightly. I realized I was crying.
“What’s wrong, Kara?” Andie asked. “Why are you crying?”
“You’re just so beautiful,” I told her. “I always wanted a little girl like you. I can’t have children and seeing how beautiful you are just made me so happy you came to see us that I cried. They’re happy tears, honey.”
Her curly little head pressed against mine. “Maybe Mama will wet me come and be your wittle girl sometimes,” she offered. She had trouble with the “L” sound at the beginning of words and it just added to her charm.
Randy came ambling in about that time and I introduced them. He reached down and scooped Andie up as she squealed with delight. He’s like a big teddy bear. Children love him instinctively. He hugged Syndy and I could tell he was in awe of her. He couldn’t take his eyes off either one of our guests and I smiled. This was perfect.
We ate dinner and I discovered that Andie liked pickles, but not onions and she wanted Parmesan cheese on her spaghetti. She liked chocolate cake, too, and had two pieces and some ice cream. We retired to the living room and Andie watched a cartoon, sitting on Randy’s lap, while we got to know each other.
Syndy and I sat next to each other on the sofa with our feet up on the ottoman and our heads touching. I found out that she was a teacher. She taught science at the high school down the street and had moved here from Texas. She was 29, had a master’s degree and she coached volleyball.
I told her about Randy and me. He worked for NASA and I was a fiduciary. I managed money. I was 48 and Randy was 49. We’d been married for 21 years and we were high school sweethearts. Syndy liked to play racquetball and we made a date to play on Monday. She was out of school for the summer and I was looking forward to spending some time with her. I knew she was someone I would like to be very good friends with.
Over the next two months, she became part of our lives in ways I had never even anticipated. Randy and I both loved her dearly, and I felt like I had known her all my life. We fell totally in love with Andie. She spent nearly as much time at our house as she did at hers. She loved me and we had lots of fun, but Randy was her real buddy. They spent hours in our pool and Syndy and I watched them play. They often brought Cat with them and, oddly enough, he showed absolutely none of most cats’ aversion to water. He swam happily whenever he got hot.
Syndy was a study in contradictions. She was such a child in many ways: at least it seemed so, to this lady going on fifty. She had the same innocence of heart that Andie did. She was an open book and her emotions were never far from the surface. She would laugh at the smallest things and cry at the drop of a hat. There was no middle ground with her. She either loved something or someone, or she hated them. She overreacted to everything except Andie.