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it was a small wedding with a small reception, on a thursday in june, when the summer heat turned to a calm breeze that came through in the evening.
claire had let karen act as wedding planner to give her sister something to focus on now that the boys were older and zach was away at college. the elder dearing insisted on whites and pastels, the color scheme shown in the tent for their outdoor wedding (as owen insisted) to the arrangements of baby’s breaths (as maisie wished) sitting in the middle of every table and placed delicately on the little girl’s head in the shape of a crown.
they were surrounded by family and friends. zia and franklin had driven down from the city, and claire’s parents had flown in, excited for their youngest daughter and the chance to meet their new granddaughter, a fact that made maisie’s cheeks glow red. even owen’s navy pals came to congratulate the newlyweds and their little family that they had formed.
it was a sight to see for claire. seeing owen with his friends, standing proud in their white uniforms. she was so used to seeing owen in his jeans and cargo pants, a cotton shirt and vest for work, the occasional flannel button up. and those board shorts, which she’ll admit has become sort of a fond memory she has of him. and as she watches them trade memories of their service days, it makes her smile at the fact that she married a man in uniform who loves dinosaurs and insists on wearing board shorts on a date because “it was hot,” and is already an amazing father to maisie. she’s seen so many sides to him and claire couldn’t be happier.
the sun began to set as the cool breeze blew through the reception, the candles, lanterns, and string lights all lit up, brightening up the tent. owen and claire sat at the head table with their hands in each other’s, taking in the sight of their guests around them as the band played. maisie, who was immediately taken under the wings of her new cousins zach and gray, could be seen smiling and laughing with the older boys.
it was after a toast from karen, eliciting tears from both dearing sisters, that it came time for the father-daughter dance, which claire was unaware of until her father led her onto the dance floor as her mother smiled knowingly. as owen watched her smile in her father’s arms, head craning back in laughter at something the elder said, an idea came to him.
the raptor trainer made his way over the table where maisie sat with the boys, a soft smile gracing her face as she watched her new mum and grandpa share their special dance together. owen thinks it’s strange that he feels slightly nervous, his hands feeling clammy for some reason, and part of him hopes his question won’t pressure the nine-year old too much. granted it’s been four months since she’s been with owen and claire, one month since the adoption went through, and not one day has gone by that owen’s heart hasn’t grown with the presence of the child in his life. he knows maisie loves them as much as they love her, but she was just a little girl who was still adjusting to her surroundings, everything being new since she never knew what life was like outside the lockwood estate. he wasn’t sure how she’d react, but he remains hopeful.
owen kneels down to maisie’s level, and offers her his hand.
“maisie girl, may i have this dance?”
the little girl looked up at him confusedly, her head slightly tilted.
“but it’s the father-daughter dance.”
owen smiled. “i know.”
he can see the realization hit the young child and the smile that forms and stretches to her ears as she happily places her hand in his and allows him to lead her to the dance floor.
“i’m afraid i don’t know how to dance. grandpa never taught me how,” maisie admits shyly. she looks down at her white flats as if willing her feet to cooperate to the rhythm.
owen tilts her chin up so she meets his eyes. “that’s alright. i’ll teach you. just keep your eyes on me.”
the truth is, owen knows very little about ballroom dancing but he isn’t about to disappoint his little girl. he was so ecstatic maisie was willing to have her own father-daughter dance with him that it hadn’t dawned on him that he didn’t have much experience with dancing outside of his prom days in high school. and he didn’t exactly have the best moves back then either. but it can’t be that hard, he figures. they could just follow along with what claire and her father were doing. or perhaps…
in one sweeping move, owen lifts maisie up with one arm, keeping it under her thighs for support as he holds her hand with his other and starts swaying left to right. maisie giggles at the sudden movement, cheeks glowing.
“owen, are you sure this counts as dancing?”
he smiles softly at his brown-eyed girl, safe in his arms with her little flower crown perched on her head, her small hand resting on his shoulder and the other in his hand. she was so pure and sweet, so precious. maisie, who came crashing into his life four months prior and has made a home in his heart ever since; who he’d sing van morrison to to remind her she’s one-of-a-kind to him; who’s the only brown-eyed girl in his life; who curls into him so easily when they take naps, her hand always holding onto his shirt tightly as he keeps a hand on her back, both for comfort and protection; who’s always willing to learn and up for an adventure.
his maisie girl.
“probably. probably not. but let me tell you this, brown-eyes. i’m honored to have this dance with you.”
the things owen would do for his little maisie girl.