“Gorgeous! Okay, oh my.” Jefferson blathered idiotically, feeling a blush rise on his cheeks at the casual pet name she bestowed upon him. He half felt the urge to smooth down the front of his jacket, run a hand over the scruff of his beard as though to check himself, ascertain that he couldn’t possibly be the ‘gorgeous’ she was referring to. And he might have done, had she not currently had both of her hands delicately wound around his, playing into the ridiculous farce he had begun. Perhaps this was a thing all pretty, confident women did? Go around telling absolute strangers they were aesthetically pleasing? Belle often plied him with compliments, but she could sometimes hardly do so without blushing herself.
The woman’s blonde tresses tickled the back of his hand as she bent down slightly (was she going to curtsey?) before she did something even more unpredictable! She kissed him! Well, not quite so much a kiss as a peck on the back of the hand. Now that was quite out of the ordinary! Jefferson knew strangers didn’t go around kissing each other. Except maybe in France. And women certainly didn’t just go around kissing men’s hands. Jefferson felt himself blush an even deeper red, if at all possible. But he also couldn’t help but admire her for it. Perhaps this newfound friend was an oddity like him, a stranger, laughing boldly in the face of social conventions. He couldn’t help but admire that!
The moment she let go of his hand, Jefferson swept his hat from his head with a flourish and the sound of twinkling bells, revealing his messy brunette locks underneath. He heard Grace giggle as he clamped the hat to his chest with a show of politeness, her standing up on the bench. He stooped automatically so that she could comb her fingers through his hair, righting the mess he’d made.
“Dragged through a hedge backwards, Papa…” she muttered under her breath, tutting. He wasn’t quite sure where she’d got that from.
“Oh, twice for good luck, poppet!” he quipped back, straightening up again when she deemed him fit. He cleared his throat, returning to present company and introducing himself, “Jefferson A. Madigan, my dear. Jay.”
At this, Grace clambered down from the bench haphazardly, clinging onto Jefferson’s coat tails to aid her descent. With both converse planted firmly on the ground, she folded her little hand into his much bigger one as Jefferson squeezed her hand lightly, watching the display of affection between Mother and Son. His heart clenched a little at the display. Grace would never experience this, only secondhand, through the interactions of her school chums and their Mothers. He was sorry for that.
Jefferson’s eyes widened in a show of surprise as the woman spoke, turning back to Grace with his mouth wide, while his daughter looked up at him puzzled.
“Why yes, that is you! You are my beautiful Grace.” he cheered excitedly, Grace scurrying to hide behind him as all the attention turned on her. She peered out, interested in what this delightful woman and her edible bunnies she had to offer, but shy. Jefferson couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. He didn’t know this boy, he hadn’t ever met Grace’s school friends. He was sure her foster family knew them, but he didn’t have a clue.
“Gracie, my love, are you going to introduce me to your little mate?” he asked, coaxing her out by his hand, letting himself be dragged an inch or two closer to the Mother and son as Grace gestured proudly, her voice still quiet, however.
“Charlie Potter, Papa.” she said, smiling shyly, brushing her hair off her face, as though looking for something to do with her hands. And as an afterthought, “And his Mama!”
Jefferson wanted to laugh at her flair for dramatics, but didn’t, instead nodding very seriously, putting his hat back atop his head and thrusting his free hand out for little Charlie to shake.
“Well, you know Gracie, I’m her Papa.” he said, smiling proudly. Because if there was one thing he was proudest of, it was little Grace. “I didn’t come equipped with chocolate, however… let’s see.”
With a quick wiggle of his fingers, he produced what appeared to be a pound coin from behind Charlie’s ear.
“Rats, always get the currency wrong.”
Patricia was thrilled. She loved nothing more than getting to meet Charlie’s friends, and in keeping with that she revelled in getting to meet their parents too. Truth be told, Charlie wasn’t what a lot of people considered to be ‘normal’ – though, Patricia didn't think there was any such thing as normal in the first place, and frankly whatever societal norms they were supposed to adapt to, she had no interest in. All the same, between the scar on his face – Patricia thought him to be exceedingly handsome regardless, but she still vowed to make his father suffer for what he did to her sweet boy – and his love of magic and makeup, he was often picked on by the other children in his class. Indeed, even other parents and teachers often found ways to criticise her son, and her parenting, in some desperate bid to silence his own self expression. Patricia would have none of it, of course, and she always took pleasure in hearing about the children that did enjoy his company, and if the gent standing before her was anything to go by, she got the impression that he would have no qualms about her son's love of painting his nails and playing dress up.
“It's an absolute pleasure to meet you, sugar,” Patricia told Jefferson, her smile wide and fierce, her cheeks aching from the effort. She watched as he ever so carefully encouraged his daughter closer, the two of them shuffling ever nearer to Patricia and Chip, the young girl smiling ever so nervously up at them as she offered up an introduction. With Charlie at her hip, his little arms wrapped neatly around her shoulders, Patricia slowly lowered herself down into a crouch, bringing herself down to young Grace's height. Carefully, she held out her bag full of goodies, and offered them up to the young girl. “Hello Gracie, it's lovely to meet you. My name's Patricia, i'm Charlie's mummy! How about I leave this bag of treats with you, and you get the very first pick?”
And with that, she gently placed the bag at Grace's feet, opting to settle Charlie down beside her in the process, before rising back to her full height and turning to face Mr Madigan once more.
Tipping her head to the side, her cheeks rosy with joy, Patricia watched as Jefferson's face transformed from confusion to sheer pride. There was such a deep and all-encompassing look of love on his face, so fierce and so powerful, that Patricia almost felt the strength of it would bowl her over entirely. She was much too unfamiliar with the love of a father, both from her own, and from Charlie's, and to see it so plain before her was suddenly a little overwhelming. A dull ache filled her chest, a lump forming in her throat as she watched the man interact with his daughter, only to then turn his attentions to Charlie – her Charlie!
With a gentle gasp, Patricia felt tears sting at the back of her eyes as the Brit flourished his hand and tugged a coin from behind Charlie's ear. Biting down on her lip, so as not to embarrass herself, she opted to say nothing, instead taking the moment to loudly and enthusiastically clap in encouragement, watching as her son's eyes grew wide with wonder.
“Mama! Mama?!” Charlie cried out, spinning on the spot to face her, his mouth agape with shock. “Did you see that? Did you? Mama, he's a wizard! He did the magic! He did it, mama! Did you see?”
Despite her best efforts, a tear rolled down Patricia's cheek, a choked sob escaping her throat as she let out an unattractive, watery laugh.
“I saw, baby! He did, wow! Isn't that exciting, my love?” she nodded, her head bobbing excitedly along with her son, whose attention had since turned to his friend, the two of them giggling with glee as they tried to make sense of the trick.
Gazing at Jefferson, the goofy look on his face, and the foreign coin still tucked away in his palm, she shook her head in disbelief.
“Thank you, for that...” she told him, feeling at a complete loss for words. “Charlie, he– well, he loves magic, and... he doesn't... he doesn't have many men to look up into his life, so... Let's just say, he'll be talking about this for weeks.”
She shrugged, crinkling her nose in a self deprecating attempt to wave away her own silly sentiments. She ducked her head, her cheeks blushing as a strange, unfamiliar flutter unfurled at the pit of her stomach.
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