Gritty
"I don't know if I can do this," Beatrice grumbles, folding her arms on the counter and resting her head on them. She growls, and Kate turns the heat down on the burner and comes around to her daughter.
Kate rubs a palm softly at Bea's spine. "You can do, sweet girl. You're gonna be okay."
"No I'm not," she wails, lifting her head. Her eyes are wet, lashes clinging together and she blinks fiercely. "Mom, I've never been this stressed. I feel like I'm gonna puke."
"You're not gonna puke," Kate says gently, moving to sit at her daughter's side. She's got pasta sauce cooking, but she can keep watch over it from here. And if it burns, they can throw it out and order pizza.
Beatrice presses her palms against her eyes and groans, a note of real desperation in her voice. "How did Jack make it through this, Mama? I feel like I haven't slept in weeks. I'm all gritty and gross, I can't stomach anything except coffee."
"I know baby," Kate soothes, wrapping an arm around her daughter's shoulders. Beatrice lets herself get drawn in close and rests her head against her mother's chest, her eyes closed. "I know it's stressful. I remember it all too well. But you're gonna make it through this, I promise you."
"It's too hard," Bea whispers, fisting a hand in Kate's shirt. "I feel like I'm losing my mind, Mom. These exams determine the rest of my life. What if I screw up?"
"You won't," Kate says firmly, dusting a kiss to the crown of her daughter's head. "But if something weird happened and you didn't do great, Dad and I would still be proud of you. All we can ask is that you try your best, and look at you baby. You're working so hard."
"Mom's right," a voice says, and they both jolt.
Sitting up straight on her stool again, Beatrice manages a weak smile for her father as he comes to stand between Kate and their daughter. "Hey Dad. Didn't hear you come in."
"I'm sneaky," he shrugs, settling a hand at each of their shoulders. "Bea, sweetheart, Mom and I are always going to love you, no matter what."
"I wasn't worried you would stop loving me," their daughter rolls her eyes, swivelling on the stool to lean back against the countertop and face her father. "It's just that Alexis and Jack are both so smart. That's a lot to live up to."
Kate turns on her chair as well, lifting her chin to accept the kiss her husband brushes against her mouth. He's been running errands today, so that Beatrice could have the whole loft to study, and when Kate got home from work a half hour ago their daughter was stretched out on the living room floor with notes spread in a wide arc around her.
"You're smart too," Castle says, dragging the barstool on Kate's other side until it's in front of her and Beatrice and he can look at them both. He toes out of his shoes and wiggles his feet, the dog coming to butt his head against Castle's thigh in greeting. "You've always done great at school. You got Mom's brain, Bea."
"I'm just scared. And stressed," their daughter says, sliding down from her barstool to wrap both arms around Baudelaire. The dog rests his head at Bea's shoulder, his nose nuzzling into her neck and his tail thumping against the kitchen island.
Kate slips down from her own stool and joins her daughter on the floor, turning her face away when the dog tries to lick her cheek. Tugging on her husband's socked foot, she shoots him a look and he grumbles, joining the two of them on the floor.
The dog adores Castle, and the moment Kate's husband has his legs folded beneath himself Baudelaire is climbing into his lap and wriggling to get comfortable. Rick scratches behind the dog's ears, but his attention is focused on their baby girl. "Bea, sweetheart, I have no doubt that you're going to do fantastically. But I know that doesn't make it less stressful. So, how about we go out for dinner tonight?"
"Mom's cooking."
"It's just sauce," Kate shrugs, smiling when Beatrice slumps against her side. "It can go in the fridge and be leftovers. Let's go out."
"You sure honey?" Castle asks, narrowing his eyes as if to assess her true feelings. Kate smiles a little wider, sifting her fingers through their daughter's hair.
The dinner she was making isn't anything special, and she wants her baby girl to be okay. If only for an evening. "I'm sure. Let me take it off the stove so it can cool."
She gets to her feet to deal with the sauce, leaves her husband and daughter on the floor. Castle is tugging on Bea's arm to bring her into a hug, the dog whining when he gets trapped between their bodies. From over the top of the counter she can only see their heads, but she can hear her husband's insistent muttering.
He's great at pep talks. More than once when their kids were tiny things, her husband had to reassure her that she wasn't a failure of a mother. She can't hear what he's saying to Beatrice now, but she has no doubt that it's exactly what their girl needs to hear.
"Hey bud," she says to the dog when he comes to investigate, sidestepping him on her way to collect a tupperware from the cabinet. She pours the sauce into it and sets it on the counter to cool down, stooping to kiss Baudelaire's long nose. "You give Bea lots of love, okay? She needs it."
"Mama, are you talking to the dog?"
"No," Kate huffs, coming around the island to see two faces staring up at her. "Okay. Maybe a little bit."
Castle gets to his feet and nudges his elbow into her. "Get your coat, Dr Dolittle."
