Page 33 of Return

They all turned when Victor and Belle emerged from the house, drinks in hand.

“Dean,” Victor called out. “When did you get here?”

“Just a little while ago.”

Victor leaned against the porch railing, noticing Pip’s bike. “Did I miss something?”

“Dean’s going to teach Pip how to ride without training wheels,” Vivian said, as Belle lit up with excitement.

“Oh yay!” Belle exclaimed. “Let me go get my phone so I can take some video. Don’t start without me,” she yelled, as she dashed back into the house.

“You sure you don’t want to do this?” Dean asked Victor. “Might be a job for an uncle.”

Victor wasn’t fooled by Dean’s attempt at getting out of something he probably shouldn’t have volunteered for.

“Fu—dge no,” Victor replied, cleaning up his language for Pip. God knew the man never attempted to curb his love of four-letter words for anyone else. He was practically a connoisseur when it came to his abundant—and sometimes creative—use of the f-word.

Belle returned with her phone, joining Vivian and Dean. Vivian knelt, checking to make sure her daughter’s helmet was secure.

“You’ve got this, Pip,” Belle cheered, when the little girl climbed onto the bike. Dean held it as steady as he could, but it was still a wobbly proposition. He grasped the back tightly as Pip slowly pedaled a few times before stopping and looking at him with wide, worried eyes.

“You okay?” he asked, prepared to put the training wheels back on if she was too scared.

“You won’t let me fall?”

“I won’t let you fall,” he said, praying that wasn’t a lie.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Dean was determined to make good on that vow when Pip’s eyes cleared and she gave him a look full of trust.

Vivian stood a few feet away, arms folded tightly across her chest, trying—and failing—not to look nervous.

While his confidence was on shaky ground, Dean still couldn’t stop himself from trying to comfort the mother as well as the daughter. “I’ve got her.”

Something in his voice must have reassured her, because she uncrossed her arms and nodded.

For the next half hour, the quiet cul-de-sac was filled with laughter and the occasional squeals of delight and/or fear as Pip rode around the large circle. Victor owned the two plots of land on either side of the cul-de-sac, which meant there was no traffic on the dead-end street. Dean jogged behind the bicycle, one hand on the seat and the other hovering near the handlebars, while Pip wobbled from side to side.

Once he felt safe doing so, he released the seat, jogging next to her, but not letting Pip know until she’d made it a good ten feet on her own.

“You’re doing it.”

“I am?!” she asked. Her shock and the knowledge he wasn’t holding on, caused her to panic, losing control.

Dean caught her and the bike before either hit the pavement.

They tried again, and each time, she grew steadier and braver. Her mother wasn’t faring quite as well, shrieking with fear every time Pip veered into the grass or looked in danger of wiping out.

Victor had settled on the porch steps, cheering every tiny victory as though Pip was competing in the Olympics, while Belle followed him and Pip, faithfully recording the entire lesson, promising to edit the footage when she was done so they’d have a great memory of the milestone. She’d even started listing songs she wanted to use to accompany the video. Apparently, her soundtrack was going to include Queen’s “Bicycle Race,” Melanie’s “Brand New Key, and some Latino song called “La Bicicleta” by Carlos Vives and Shakira that Belle swore was “her jam.”

Somewhere around the fiftieth attempt, it happened.

“Keep pedaling,” he called out, knowing Pip was ready for a solo run.

“Mommy!” she yelled to Vivian. “I’m doing it!”

“You are!” Vivian called back. Victor was clapping, and Belle, red cheeked from running after Pip, whooped loud enough to startle a pair of birds from a nearby tree.