Free Where Life Takes You by Claudia Burgoa

night sleep; the nightmares stayed away as long as Dan was next to me.
    “If you’re sure,” I shrugged, and my voice went down several decibels. I closed my eyes tight, afraid they would betray me. Sadness invaded my mind.
    “I want you to be comfortable.” He moved around the closet. “But say the word and I’ll stay with you.”
    I whispered a please. The lights went off, the bed sank on his side, and I drifted away.
    * * * * *
    “We ran out of chocolate chips.” Dan put a full plate of pancakes on the table. “Do you think you’ll survive a few days without your fix?”
    “I’ve more across the hallway, and you can fetch them later.” I drenched the pancakes with maple syrup, took a bite, and moaned. “Amazingly good! I’m impressed. You dominate the kitchen like it’s your boardroom. Who taught you how to cook?”
    Dan poured orange juice for us both, as well as a cup of coffee for him, and a glass of milk for me. He sat next to me, covered his own pancakes cautiously—not Becca style—cut a piece of pancake, and ate it. “Hmm. They are good, but they don’t seem to affect me the way they do you.” He chuckled.
    I awaited his answer curiously.
    “My last foster family.” He’d gone through two foster homes. “My foster mother taught her surrogate children to fend for themselves. Our chores included cleaning, cooking, and washing dishes and clothes. No, she didn’t want cheap labor. She did it to teach us how a normal house hold functioned, and to care for ourselves.”
    “She sounds smart. I’m guessing you helped her—or them—after you became the all-powerful Daniel Brightmore?” I asked, while sneaking my fork onto his plate to steal a piece of his pancake. Mine had disappeared way too fast. He playfully fake-slapped my hand away, and I pouted at him. “Selfish. That’s why no one likes you.”
    “You not only like me, you love me, little one.” He fed me a fork full of pancake and gave me a satisfied smile. “After my first company became fully successful, I set up a trust fund for the Swansons. It made sense to help them after everything they did, and didn’t, do for me.” I knitted my eyebrows in confusion. “They didn’t hit me, or abuse me. Very few children get to spend their years in the system with people who truly care. Richard Swanson taught me how to hold a hammer, use power tools, and fix cars.” His voice became more animated as he continued with the story, and those gray eyes smiled at the fondness of the moments he told. “Thanks to him and those skills, I held a few jobs during college. And was able to begin my first company. Last year I moved them to Austin, Texas. They’re getting old, and the weather is nice year-round.”
    “Are you going to raise your children the same way?” He gave me a strange look. “To be self-reliant, even though they’re the children of a billionaire.” I gestured dramatically towards the luxuries penthouse. “The beautiful wife you were talking about in Telluride, who went to catholic-private schools and spent her summers in Europe, might not want her beautiful children to be exposed to hammers, power tools, and pans. You have the means to give them whatever their hearts desire, and staff to service them. All the comforts she’s accustomed to.” His face screamed, What’s this girl talking about . “Oh my, that never occurred to you. What would you like in a wife? Ooh, I’ve got a great idea. We should make a chart. Don’t you think?”
    He tipped his head to the side, looking at me curiously, though he had a wide smile. He shook his head. “A chart, you say. And what will be the purpose of this exercise?”
    “Ingenious. This is the best idea ever.” I clapped my hands, excited. “Bring me a paper and pen… no, a pencil. We have to do this, so when you’re ready to start the search, you have a clear idea who she is. Go, go…. This is going to be fun.”
    He handed me a legal yellow pad, a pencil and eraser, a