A Dash of Summer
Kate leaves Martha in the wine cellar taking care of arranging the flowers and she sneaks up the stairs to find Ellery. It's a little after nine in the morning and even though that's early for their girl, she'll be excited enough about her dress and shoes for the wedding that Kate thinks she won't mind.
Or so Kate hopes. There's not a lot of free space left in the day for Kate to find a moment with her daughter, and she wants to take the time with her, be with her. She remembers how Castle was always in her space at the 12th Precinct, present and waiting for her to figure it out. Castle kept putting himself in front of her, sly and laughing and goofy, and he never quit.
Kate is going to do that. With Ellery. She's going to worm her way back inside her daughter's fierce heart.
She pauses on the stairs and hears Castle and Dash from the bedroom, both of them laughing, the lower tones of her husband's rumble carrying the higher giggles of her son's silliness. She grins and heads the opposite direction, moving for the girl's bedroom.
Kate pauses at the door and takes a breath, then she twists the knob and pushes inside. Lincoln is downstairs in his new beach house, and not having the lizard looking at her and begging for a scratch under his chin is strange. Still, it gives Kate the chance to focus on her daughter - makes her focus on her daughter.
She shuts the door after herself and studies the still form curled at the foot of the bed. Ellery is so small under the blue bedsheet - her new favorite color these days. Her dark hair has dried in tangles no doubt, and Kate should really get the comb and the detangler spray and work it out.
But that's not what she's here for. And that will definitely put her daughter in a bad mood.
Kate slips out of her sandals and slides into bed with Ella, curling up across from her daughter's small, sleeping face. Light-limned lashes fall on those round cheeks, her face not as angular as Dashiell's but definitely long. Her mouth has opened with sleep, pink and puckered, and she looks like she's slept hard all night.
Until Allie gets home - whenever that might be - Kate is free to take as much time as possible to rouse her daughter.
So she wraps an arm around the girl's back and pulls close, close enough that their noses brush, and she strokes her fingers along the knobs of Ellery's spine. The shirt smooths under her hand and she kisses the soft apple of her girl's cheek.
Ellery doesn't open her eyes, doesn't even stir, but there's something there. Kate hums with laughter that she won't spill and slides closer, kissing Ella's ear, dropping to her neck. She blows lightly against the girl's skin and a giggle pops out of her little mouth. When Kate pulls back, Ella's eyes are still closed, but tightly now, trying.
"I think you're awake," she says softly. "Aren't you, sweet girl?"
The eyes squint harder, lips pursing now too, and Kate lets herself laugh as she draws her daughter into her arms, lying on her back. Ellery giggles again, like it's escaping without her permission, renegade happiness, and Kate nudges her nose into the sweet, warm skin at her daughter's neck, aching for more of it.
Ella sprawls over her chest and giggles, tight little sounds like she's trying so hard to keep it in. Kate nuzzles her and cups the back of her head, kissing her cheeks and chin and nose until Ellery pulls back, eyes open.
"You did sleep with me, Mommy?"
"I came in while you were asleep, yeah," she grins. "And I sneaked into your bed and wrapped you up in kisses."
"Oh, you did. All over me," Ella sighs, her shoulders shrugging in and her head tucking down to lay at Kate's chest. Her little fingers grip her mother's shirt, release, grip again. "All over me."
She's humming. Her daughter is humming against her chest. A song that Kate half remembers but can't quite catch. Little bursts of words come out softly under Ella's breath, body shifting over her mother.
Kate would never have stayed this long a week ago; she would have wanted to start the day, get moving, find Ella clothes and her comb, goose her to get going. Ellery's mood would have been sour from the start, of course, so it's not like it's Kate's fault that she's so surly in the mornings, but this is different.
It's vacation and a Saturday too - which is always Castle's day to recover, do nothing, sleep all day. When Kate makes herself stop, her mind is still going, schedules and lists and plans, and it's obvious that this is not how her husband - or her daughter - engages the world.
Even now, in bed with Ellery humming on top of her, Kate can't help planning her next move, trying to see what lies ahead, find the right path. This might be part of her problem - always looking for the next step - rather than dwelling with her daughter in the moment, in the silence.
With Dashiell, Kate always has an objective and a goal in mind - their hot tea mornings, getting her caffeine in, using each experience to teach him something. Even during their conversations, she's going step by step through the words, using each question and answer to get somewhere, to fulfill an agenda. She knows this incidental learning is a holdover from the days when his therapist, Julie, made every interaction with Dash into a teachable moment. Kate has picked up on that style as her parenting method of choice.
It's not bad, she doesn't think. It's very good for Dash and for Kate as well. But it doesn't always work for Ellery. She approaches life like her father - craving spontaneous and seeking out wonder - despite Ella having so much of Kate's personality.
She's only three; Kate's willing to give herself some leniency for only now catching up to her daughter's little quirks. But from now on, she's going to be intentional about this. She remembers finding seashells on the beach with Ella last October, remembers how gorgeous those hours were together, how the awe and pride mingled in them both.
"Mommy," Ella sighs, but it's more like a song. Not even a request, just the hum of her little voice and the droop of her mouth in soft drowsiness.
"Hey, Ellery," she whispers. She's determined not to ask if Ella is ready to get up, determined to let her daughter set the pace.
That fist in her shirt eases, like maybe she's been expecting all this time to be pushed out of bed, and Kate lays her hand on Ella's back, purposefully closes her eyes.
The humming transitions into singing, little snatches of verses, and then Kate hears the words clearly.
It's the Lullaby song that Kate used to play for her in the crib, when she was worried that her so-tiny baby would have her brother's problems with sleep, would need soothing and softness and a voice to listen to as she drifted away.
Ellery is singing the Lullaby song into Kate's neck.
How long do you want to be loved? Is forever enough, is forever enough.
"Forever enough," Kate hums in time against the top of her head. "'Cause I'm never giving you up."
For as long as Ella needs; this is where Kate will be.