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that was his sense of humor.
    Emily signed for the package and closed the door. A loud crash and what sounded like glass shattering echoed from the kitchen.
    “Oh shit!” Emily dropped the box and hustled across the worn wooden floor. Katy stood in the archway wide -eyed.
    “Mama, Trevor bad.” Katy pointed to the tiny little dark -haired boy wearing blue cotton pants and a striped T-shirt, barefoot, sitting in an orange, sticky puddle beside an open fridge door. The lower plastic side bar stuck out like a partially detached thumb and dangled to the floor. Jars and containers scattered the floor. Chunks of glass and pickles surrounded Trevor. “Trevor, don’t move.”
    “What the hell’s going on in here?” The back door clattered and Brad stomped into the kitchen, brushed past Emily, bent over and picked up his wet boy, moving him out of the mess.
    “Stay there.” His deep, smoky voice was sharp as he cast an accusatory glance at Emily.
    “Weren’t you watching him, how in the hell did this happen?”
    Trevor tried to step into the puddle of orange juice, flapping his arms and yelling “da, da, da.” Over and over.
    “Dammit, you’re going to cut yourself.” Brad picked up Trevor and moved him over by Katy , who stood quiet and unsure in the doorway. Big pools filled Katy’s eyes. She looked ready to cry.
    “Brad , a delivery guy brought you a package, I signed for it. Trevor was in front of the TV. I just turned my back for a second.”
    The cream-colored walls seemed to vibrate as the tension thickened the air. Katy burst into tears and Brad ran his large callused fingers, the hands of a working man, through his hair, irritated. He ground his teeth with his tight, strong jaw. His Adam’s apple bobbed. Then he sighed and threw his hands in the air, as Emily picked up Katy.
    He let out a weary laugh and something softened as those magnificent eyes connected with her.
    “Well let’s clean this up.” Brad reached for a roll of paper towel s on a shelf at the back door. He ripped off sheets and dropped them onto the puddled juice.
    Emily kissed the top of Katy’s head and wiped her tears. “Watch Dora and let me clean up this mess. I’ll come and get you.” Katy clung when Emily tried to get her to sit on the sofa. But she appeased her with her dolly and was able to slip away. Trevor was a different story. He was making a “whop, whop” noise as he swayed back and forth just inches from the chunks of glass Brad scrambled to pick-up.
    “Why don’t I take Trevor and get him cleaned up.” She didn’t wait for a reply, but squatted down in front of the child. He was whimpering in his juice-covered pants, making a different noise now, “whee, whee, whee” over and over again, as he played with his fingers. “Actually, Brad, I don’t know where his room is. If you could point the way to the bathroom and his room, I’ll get him changed into some clean clothes.”
    It took Emily a moment to realize Brad had stopped cleaning up the mess and was watching her with a look that resembled confusion, or maybe he didn’t understand what she’d asked. Then he dumped a wad of soggy paper towels into a black garbage bag, and stood to his full height. He gestured toward the back of the kitchen, where there were a set of stairs by the back door.
    “Just up those stairs, first door on your right is the bathroom, Trevor’s room’s beside it on the left.”
    Emily hesitated in front of the boy. Not in fear, but wondering what his reaction would be toward her. She could feel the heat from his father burning into her back. Clearly, she was center stage.
    “Come Trevor , let’s get you cleaned up.” She waited, holding her breath for him to freak out. She didn’t want that to happen in front of Brad, she was nervous enough as it was. Trevor was still agitated and he whimpered when Emily reached under his arms and picked him up. Trevor wouldn’t look at her but he did wrap his tiny baby-fat little arms