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John Laurens was a busy man. His schedule was precise in its’ developments and he hated when the usual flow of his life got messed up by anything. Each morning the day began at four-thirty when his alarm rang out through his bedroom. A heavy hand would shut off the ringing and he’d take a few minutes (no more than ten) to compose his thoughts and try to regain consciousness before rising to make himself some form of breakfast.
After he scarfed something down, he’d head into the bathroom to change into his usual scrubs and wash his face, fulfilling the usual morning routine. Typically, showers happened the night before because let’s face it, there was no way he could wake up any earlier than he already did to fit one in during the morning.When he appeared semi-presentable and semi-ready to face the day, the time was usually around five-fifteen.
That’s when the really challenging part began.
John had a six year old little girl named Frances; the two of them had been together on their own since she was two when he got a call that her mother, Martha, was terminally ill. At the time, John had still been in medical school, and taking in a two year old had not been a part of his initial plan. They struggled for a few years to make do with what John could afford, and at one point they even stayed with one of John’s closest friends, Lafayette, until he could find a cheap apartment to rent out.
By the time Frances started kindergarten, John finally felt like things were starting to iron themselves out. He had a job, and while it made him spend thirteen plus hours on his feet everyday and miss a lot of Frances’ milestones, it was a steady form of income. Not much of an income, but it was enough. Now his whole morning routine centered around her and getting her to the daycare center before he trudged off to the hospital.
That particular morning, as the clock on his night stand read five-seventeen, John brushed his hair back with one hand, rubbing the heel of his other hand against one of his eyes. With a deep breath, he stood up and walked out into the hallway, quietly opening the door adjacent to his own. Inside, curled up in a little ball on her light purple bed sheets was Frances, hair thrown out in all different directions, face smushed against her pillow. Oh yes, she was definitely John’s daughter.
He kneeled down at her bedside, switching on the dim lamp resting on the small table near her bed. She made no movements aside from her steady breathing and the occasional snore that came from deep within her little body. John couldn’t help but smile as he gently scooped her up into his arms, grabbing the clothes he had laid out the night before on the end of her bed.
It took him another ten minutes to finally maneuver his daughter into her school clothes, and he took quite a bit of pride in that considering that she still hadn’t stirred from her slumber. However, when it came time to do her hair, John had no choice but to prod her awake kindly. Her eyes fluttered open and she let out a low grumble.
“Daddy?”
“Why good morning, angel,” He spoke softly, coaxing her up into a sitting position in his lap. The angle wasn’t fantastic, but the little girl was obviously determined to try and fall back asleep in that sitting position. John wet her hair and brushed out all the knots, grinning to himself when he discovered that she succeeded in her mission and was sound asleep sitting upright. He grabbed a hair tie and secured it firmly between his teeth while he set to work pulling her hair back into one long braid. It was her favorite hairstyle, and she always told John that her braids always looked way better than the other kids in her class.
With her hair tied back, John chanced a look at the clock and found the time to be five-fifty. By that time, Frances was pulling herself awake, yawning in the most dramatic way possible. One of the only positive things about his whole morning routine was that they’d been doing it for so long that Frances had become accustomed to it, so she hardly ever put up a fight when John tried to get her to do stuff, surprisingly. Frances held up a foot for John to put on her shoe.
He gave her an amused look and crossed his arms over his chest. “What? You think I’m going to do all the work for you?”
Frances pouted. “The princess needs her slippers, daddy.”
John rolled his eyes and slipped the shiny black shoes onto her feet. They were her favorite shoes to match her favorite dress that John had put her in (as per her request the night before).
“Alright, go grab your backpack for me and then we’ll head over,” Frances nodded, stretching her arms above her head and letting out one more long yawn (for good measure) before she walked off to her room. John took the free moment to slip on his own shoes and grab what few things he took with him to work. When he walked out into the living room, Frances was waiting by the door with her backpack strapped on, looking just a little too big for her tiny body. Her hands were extended, John’s car keys planted firmly in her palms.
John beamed at her and pulled out his phone, opening the camera from his lock screen. “Stand there and smile, you look adorable today.”
Frances widened her eyes and held up a finger while she fixed her braid in the back of her head and then resumed her pose, giving John the brightest smile she could manage at almost six in the morning on a Tuesday. He snapped a quick photo and took his keys from her hand, opening the front door to let her lead the way into the hall. After locking the door, he turned and was met was an outstretched hand.
“I don’t want to lose you.” Frances said bravely, waiting patiently for her father’s hand to slip into her own.
And who was John to argue?
He grabbed her petite hand and walked slightly behind her while she recalled some ludicrous story from her dreams the night before.
The drive to her daycare was short - another thing John felt endlessly thankful for - and when they got there, Frances ran bounding out of the car to the front door. It wasn’t a normal daycare at some center somewhere off in a business complex; this daycare was run by a couple out of their home. They had quite a few families who brought their kids in each morning at varying times. Typically Frances was one of the earliest kids to arrive and she’d spend that following hour eating breakfast and watching cartoons with the two adults of the house. Then, around eight, all the kids who had arrived would be driven to school. When school was over, they’d be picked up and spend a few hours at the house until parents came to get them.
On a normal day, Lafayette or Hercules would grab Frances around five, and John would meet them all at home by seven or seven-thirty, depending on when they cut him loose from the hospital. There had rarely been a time where he’d gotten off early enough to be able to pick her up, but when he did, Frances knew she was in for something special. Typically John took her for frozen yogurt or some other treat like that, but those day had become few and far between.
Frances knocked on the door, shushing John when he walked up behind her. She never knew if anyone was sleeping inside, but John knew they opened their doors for kids at five, so whoever was there had to be awake. A moment later an older looking woman holding an infant opened up and Frances immediately ran into her legs, wrapping her arms around them in a tight hug.
“Hello, Frances!” The woman greeted, reaching a hand down to pat her braided hair. “We have your favorite oatmeal already warming up on the stove for you.”
All that could be heard from Frances was a loud gasp before she ran through the front room, cheering when she found the man who owned the home in the kitchen.
The woman at the door turned her attention back to John and gave him a sympathetic smile. “Another long day ahead of you?”
“Until seven tonight,” he confirmed, sighing quietly. “Lafayette will be here to pick her up today.”
“The usual, then.” She nodded in understanding.
John hated the fact that he couldn’t even pick up his own daughter every day from daycare, or help her with her homework when she got home, but with the arrangement they had, at least he knew that she, Laf, and even Herc would all have close relationships. They were essentially the only other family Frances had ever known, since John’s father and siblings were hardly in the picture. Maybe the occasional card at holidays, but nothing more.
“Daddy?” Frances’ voice cut through the short silence and the woman moved to the side, waving at John with a small smile as she retreated back into the house.
“Hmm?” John kneeled down to be at her eye level, grinning at her genially.
Frances walked forward and wrapped her arms around John’s broad shoulders as best she could, laying her head against his chest, directly over his heart. “Promise me one thing, okay?”
“Okay, what?”
“Today, make sure that you make someone feel better.” Frances pulled back far enough to be able to poke the area just above his heart. “Try to help more than one person, but at least one!”
Why was John getting emotional? His eyes were starting to burn as he planted a kiss against her forehead. “I’ll make sure to do that, muffin. Just for you.”
It was Frances’ turn to pull John down and kiss his forehead as well. It was a common exchange between the two of them, something that they’d fallen into the habit of doing in lieu of farewells.
“I love you!” Frances sang out, waving at him as she ran back inside to the kitchen. John chuckled and mirrored her words before shutting the front door and heading back to his car. Once in the driver's seat, he took a moment to lean his head against the steering wheel, a tired groan escaping his lips. It was going to be a long day.
~~~~~~~~~
When he walked through the front door just before eight o’clock that evening, John was met with the smell of something sweet and a little girl running head first into his legs.
“Daddy, you’re home!” Frances wailed, holding out her hands in a silent request for him to pick her up. He did so, dropping his keys in the tray near the front door. “Uncle Laf and I were making cookies for you! They’re not done yet, but they will be in a few minutes.” Her voice was filled with pride as John carried her into the kitchen.
“Did you now?”
“Oui,” Lafayette looked up from the sink where his hands were submerged in soapy water. “She insisted that we make you something sweet because you seemed so tired this morning.” John set the little girl down at the table and frowned at Laf.
“You know you didn’t have to do the dishes, especially if you cooked for-”
“Mon ami, relax.” Lafayette dried his hands off with a towel. “It is my present to you. She is fed, her homework is finished, all she needs now is a bath and her reading time.”
John glanced over at Laf’s shoulder to his daughter who was singing to herself as she dragged a crayon across a blank piece of paper. When his eyes focused back on Lafayette he was smiling faintly.
“Thank you so much for getting her, and staying a little late. There was a particular patient who just wouldn’t let us do our job and-”
Lafayette’s hands found his shoulder and he let himself be pulled into a warming hug. “It’s what we are here for, John. You know this.”
“I know,” John sighed.
Lafayette pulled away and walked over to Frances and ran a hand through her now free hair, kissing her lightly on top of the head. “I will see you tomorrow, cher,” He pointed a finger back at John. “The timer for the cookies is still going on the microwave. Left overs are in the fridge, do not forget to eat. ”
“Yes sir,” John saluted him and then he was gone, leaving Frances looking at him expectantly. John put on his best smile and sat down with her at the table, making sure to keep an eye on the timer for the cookies. “How was school today, muffin?”
“Oh daddy, it was so good! Did you know there’s a boy in my class who’s the son of our teacher? He gets taught by his daddy!” She shook her head, as though the concept was inconceivable.
“Oh yeah? What’s his name?”
“Philip. He sits with me at the art table all the time because he says I have the best crayons.” She beamed with pride, holding her head up a little higher than usual.
John noticed the usual stack of papers from her school and began to flip through them, keeping his ears open as Frances began retelling the story of how the little boy Philip stole one of her markers and she almost had to wrestle him for it. The papers were nothing out of the ordinary; announcements about fundraisers as well as their spirit week coming up and a few other miscellaneous things. John didn’t hesitate until he found a paper with a picture of a cartoon child holding a stick and pointing to the words written in blue marker. The words were slightly messy and the time on the dotted line was hard to read. The typed portion read out:
‘Listen up! Parent-teacher conferences are coming up next week! Frances Laurens is scheduled on Tuesday the twenty fourth at-’
John had to squint to try and decipher what the time was. Frances, in the midst of her compelling story must have noticed John squinting and she tapped the corner of the paper with her finger.
“That’s Mr Hamilton’s handwriting. He’s not very good at it, I think.” Her giggle rang out and John furrowed his brows together more.
“Do you know what these numbers are?” He asked, showing her the paper. Frances nodded and grabbed her crayon. She took her time in writing out the numbers in a much neater fashion.
“He told me it was six-thirty.” She grinned and nodded once with a satisfied hum, handing the paper back to her father. Oh. Now that he looked at it, he supposed those numbers did show six-thirty. “Mr Hamilton always writes in blue pens. He never tells us why, though. I think it’s because he really likes the color blue.”
“Maybe,” John mused, taking the paper and hanging it up on the fridge. Just then, the timer went off on the cookies and John made quick work of pulling them out, Frances giving him instructions to ‘be careful’ from afar. With the oven turned off, John put the overmitts back in the drawer and put his hands on his hips.
“While these cool off it’s time for a bath. And if you’re good you can have one tonight.” Frances widened her eyes and ran off to her bedroom, trying to pull her dress off in the process. John followed closely behind at a more leisurely pace, shaking his head fondly at her sheer panic.
About forty minutes later, after she was bathed and prepared for sleep, John found himself sitting in her bed with her, a book resting on his legs as they enjoyed the cookies she and Laf had prepared. They were sugar cookies, and in retrospect maybe not the best thing to have right before bed, but she earned it.
“Alright,” He stated, brushing his hands together to shake off any excess sugar. “Let’s read another chapter tonight, shall we? Do you remember what was happening in the last chapter?”
Frances copied her father’s movement, grabbing the book from his leg to settle it on her own lap, staring down at the pages. “Umm… oh! Alexa met Yipes didn’t she?”
“She sure did, and she found that green stone in the pond.”
“Yes!” Frances clapped her hands together and stared down at the new page, clearing her throat. “Chapter five…”
By nine-thirty they finished the new chapter, John having read the last half of it when Frances started complaining that her eyes were ‘hurting too bad’, and John kissed Frances goodnight as she drifted off to sleep. By ten, he was laying face first on his bed, fanned out across the covers. With what few shreds of consciousness he had left, John plugged in his phone and set a reminder to request that following Tuesday off, or at least be released early. There was no way he could miss the first official parent-teacher conference of his daughter’s school career. Kindergarten hadn't been the same, and the parent teach conferences were different. This was different.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Luckily, by the time Tuesday rolled around, John had been granted an early release to be able to make it down and get to Frances’ conference. The morning went smoothly, he dropped her off without any hiccups and went to work as usual. The day was relatively calm, and John was beyond thankful. When they granted John an early release, it meant early by only a few hours. So when five o’clock rolled around, John was out the door.
He made it to Frances’ daycare and picked her up, taking her out for frozen yogurt as they usually did on those special days. John held her up as she poured more than enough yogurt into her bowl from the dispenser and then added more than enough toppings that ranged from cookie crumbs to gummy worms. John settled on some vanilla yogurt mixed with a few different kinds of cookie bits. Frances always thought his taste was too boring.
The two of them sat together in the shop, enjoying their yogurt peacefully. John listened to Frances’ multitude of stories and when he checked his phone next, the time read six. So, they headed back to her school and made it there with five minutes to spare. Frances held his hand as she led the way down the hall to her classroom, explaining various different rooms along the way.
When she reached her room, there was a sign on the outside of the door with a list of names and various time slots. They were right on time for hers and Frances showed no hesitation in pushing the door open. John followed her inside, taking a moment to observe his new surroundings. The room was brightly decorated with small groups of desks pulled together all over the place. Each desk had a nametag on it, with the names of the student's written in blue marker on each one. In one corner there was a chair and a large rug, and John assumed it was where they had stories read to them.
On another side of the room there was a large table with a few bins filled with art supplies. There were papers cast out on the surface and some had already been drawn on. Probably from students who had come with their parents earlier in the day. John’s eyes continued to scan the room until he landed on the only normal sized object in there: a desk. The desk had a computer on it and a sitting behind that computer was a-
Oh.
A man sat in the chair behind the desk, his face illuminated slightly by the screen in front of him. He had shoulder length black hair and stubble that seemed to fit his face perfectly. A hand was supporting his chin as he smiled at Frances, who had bolted over to his desk the moment she got free from the door. When he looked up at John, he felt like all the air left his lungs.
“That’s my daddy,” Frances exclaimed proudly, pointing to John as he shut the door. The man behind the computer stood up and pulled his glasses off of the bridge of his nose, setting them on the surface of his desk. “He’s a doctor, remember? See, he’s wearing those… the, uh- daddy, what are those called again? The doctor outfits?”
“Scrubs, Fran.” John smiled, trying to regain his lost composure as he approached the desk. With each step he took, the man grew more and more attractive.
“Scrubs! He’s wearing scrubs. But he usually wears this big white coat that goes all the way down to here-” she bent down, putting her hands around her calf, referring to John’s white overcoat that he wore on duty. “And sometimes it-”
“Franny!” A high pitched voice rang out in the room and Frances turned around with a knowing smile, seemingly ready to pounce at any moment. A little boy with dark curly hair came bounding up to her, enveloping her in a hug.
“Philly!”
“Come on, come on, I have to show you- is that your pops?” All his enthusiasm was put on hold for a moment as he glared at John.
“Philip,” the older man scolded, gesturing him away with a wave of the hand. “Don’t be rude. Take Frances and go play for a few while Frances’ dad and I chat, okay?”
“Sorry, sir.” The little boy - Philip - said to John and looked down at the floor, but soon shook himself out of it, tugging on Frances’ hand. “Come on, I got a new dinosaur!”
“Woah!” The two of them jumped off in a fit of giggles, leaving John and the man standing behind the desk.
“Sorry about that,” he shook his head, picking up a few papers from the wood surface. “He’s been here all day. Sort of stuck at the mercy of being the teacher’s son.” He held his hand out, balancing a small stack of papers in his other arm. “Alexander Hamilton. Obviously known to the kiddos as Mr Hamilton, but you can call me Alex if you’d like.”
“John Laurens,” he held met the other man in a handshake and- was he supposed to feel lightheaded? Snap out of it, John! “Nice to meet you, Alex. I hope Frances hasn’t been too much of a handful?”
“Goodness gracious, no!” Alex chuckled, returning his glasses to their place on his nose. “She’s by far one of the best students I have. Academic wise and behaviour wise. Follow me and we’ll go through a few things.” He led the way to a table off in the corner of the room where a few folders were set up with various names on them.
They took their seats and Alexander began thumbing through the files; John tried his best not to stare.
“Here we go,” Alex opened up the file and pulled out a few different papers, laying them out in front of John for him to examine. His finger landed on the first one. “See, we have these weekly evaluation sheets and I give the kids a color based on their behavior and there was only one week where Frances got a yellow. The following day she came back with an apology picture and everything.”
John put a hand on his chin, leaning forward to examine the paper closer. “I remember helping her make that, actually. She wanted to bring you a brownie, but I told her that would have to wait until the holidays.”
Alexander laughed and god did John want to hear that more. “She’s the sweetest thing, let me tell you. Never gets into fights with other students, always trying to work things out in a calm way, always willing to help other kids who need anything.”
John’s heart swelled at that. At least he was doing something right with her, evidently. He’d have to tell Lafayette and Hercules later, considering they were a huge influence on her, too.
Hamilton’s finger landed on the next piece of paper. “And this is her report card. She’s doing very well, could use a little help in reading comprehension, though. Does she read at home?”
“Every night she reads to me before bed. At least a few pages of a chapter book that we’re working through together.”
“Wonderful, make sure to keep that up. It’s definitely showing through in her reading speed - she has the fasted in the class.”
“Boy, I hope you didn’t tell her that. It would probably go straight to her head.” John rolled his eyes, a fond smirk on his lips.
Alexander leaned in slightly, putting a hand up to whisper in John’s direction, “Trust me, I think she’s already figured it out.”
They continued on for a few minutes, Alex mentioning a few things that Frances needed a gentle nudge with, but for the most part she had a clean slate. Alexander tapped all the papers together in a neat pile and put a paper clip up in the corner.
“Do you have any questions? About her or even class in general?”
John hesitated for a moment, passing a glance at the two kids who were off at the art table, bouncing dinosaurs around. “Does she… do well with other kids? I mean, does she have a few friends?”
Alexander looked in the same direction meeting John’s eyes with they focused back, keeping their voices quiet. “She struggled at first, but since she found common ground with Philip she’s really blossomed. And I can say she’s had the same effect on him since they latched onto each other.”
“Common ground?” John furrowed his brows together, unsure of what he meant.
Alexander seemed to hesitate before he nodded slowly. “Frances got asked one morning why her dad doesn’t bring her to school - the daycare folks do, I believe? - and Frances said you work very early in the morning,” John nodded slowly. “Well, when someone asked about her mother, Frances mentioned that she wasn’t around anymore. Mind you, this was in their small group, so it’s not like she was saying it to the entire class. She said that her mommy was ‘off in heaven with the other angels’.” Another hesitation. “I’m very sorry about that news.”
Martha, Frances’ mother, passed away when she was two after fighting cancer for almost a year. John had made it a point to be there for her in those last few months, and make sure that Martha left the world knowing that Frances was going to be taken care of no matter what. It was hard after she passed. Frances didn’t quite understand why her mommy wasn’t coming home, or why she couldn’t go see her anymore. John would always tell her that Martha was with the other angels in the sky and apparently that stuck.
“My son, Philip, somehow overheard,” Alex continued, resting his hands on the table. “He lost his mother too, almost two years ago, now.”
“I’m so sorry, I-” John casted another glance in the children’s direction, feeling a tug at his heartstrings. “It’s hard. But I’m glad she’s found someone who gets it. I think she needed that.”
“It’s okay. We’ve healed, you know? Philip has opened up tremendously in the past month or so. It’s been phenomenal to see.” A faint smile returned to Alexander’s face and he bit his lip momentarily before turning around and grabbing a scrap piece of paper. “Listen, I don’t usually do this, but-” he was writing something down on the piece of paper, sliding it across the table with a small grin. “Call me sometime. I’d like to maybe grab a few drinks and chat. Outside this first grade classroom, preferably.”
John felt his hands trembling when he picked up the note, reading over the digits to make sure he could understand the messy scribbles. Was that real? Did he really just get the number of his daughter’s first grade teacher? Was he really interested in getting drinks?
“I’d like that.” John smiled folding up the paper and sticking it under the paper clip with Frances’ work.
“Fantastic,” Hamilton stood up and held his hand out again. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr Laurens, and I do hope to hear from you soon.”
“As with you, Mr Hamilton,” John shook his hand again and could help but admire the bright twinkle in his eye. It felt mischievous, something that held promises for more to come. “Frances, time to go.”
The young girl stuck her head up and frowned at him. “Awh, daddy! Can’t we just wait a little while longer, Philip and I are playing.”
“I’ve got dinner to make, and you have homework to do,” John chided gently, pushing in the chair he’d been sitting in. “You’ll see Philip in the morning.”
Frances groaned loudly, putting her dinosaur in the plastic bin where she got it from, turning back to Philip and whispering something in his hear. The boy giggled, covering his mouth and Frances did the same, walking over to her dad as though she’d done nothing wrong. John just rolled his eyes and did a double check on all the papers in his hands.
“Bye Philly!” Frances called, waving at him enthusiastically. “Bye Mr Hamilton!”
“See you in the morning, Frances.” Alexander waved back at her and then offered a knowing smile at John as he sat back down at his computer. John waved to the both of them and let Frances lead the way back out into the hallway.
“Did he say that I did good, daddy?” Frances asked once they were in the car.
“He said you did spectacular, angel.” John nodded, looking at her through the rear view mirror. “I’m very proud of you.” She seemed satisfied with that answer and took to looking out the window.
That entire night through dinner, homework, the stories, her reading time, all John could think of was Alex. He’d been by far the most gorgeous man he’d ever seen, and so kind. John could tell that he loved his job, just by listening to the way he talked about the children in his class. After Frances was tucked away in bed and sleeping soundly, John laid awake staring at his phone and a discarded piece of paper. He’d already put the number in his contacts, but was debating on whether or not to text him. That wouldn’t be weird would it?
He did say call… who called nowadays, anyway? Plus, it was almost ten o’clock, calling so late would for sure be a disturbance. What if he was trying to get Philip into bed? What if he was trying to get himself ready for bed? What it-
“Enough, John.” He mumbled to himself, quickly picking up his phone before his brain could tell him not to. He shot off a text message in record time, placing the phone face down on his night stand. Surely he wouldn't get a reply until the morning, so John tried (and failed) to push the thoughts to the back of his mind and let sleep be his main focus. He settled his head into the pillow and sighed soundly.
Not even two minutes later, his phone buzzed. John never had flung his covers off so quickly trying to grab something. On the screen was a message that made him blush for no reason in particular. It was just a response to the question John had asked. Perhaps it was because of the person it came from? Probably.
From Alexander:
Of course. I’m free this Saturday night if that works? I can totally work around your busy schedule.
To Alexander:
Saturday works. We’ll figure out the details soon?
From Alexander:
For sure. Can’t wait to see you again!
They exchanged a few more texts before Alex bid him goodnight, and John put the phone back on his night stand. What a day. In a matter of twelve hours he’d learned that his daughter was doing better than he ever could have imagined, and he got the number of an extremely cute teacher. Huh. Weird how things work out.
John went to bed with a smile on his face that night, feeling more than content.