An Innocent Thanksgiving

That would be Mark, Violet, and Fern. It was time.

Maggie looked terrified, like a gigantic spider had just shown up in front of her. We were still on the stairs, so we couldn’t be seen from any of the windows. I grabbed her and pulled her in to kiss her one last time. One for the road, so to speak.

“It’ll be okay,” I whispered, and then Maggie pulled away and hurried down the stairs, putting distance between us as the front door opened and Fern entered.

“Cal!” she said, grinning at me, a bit of chocolate smeared on her face.

I longed for the day—hopefully soon—when she would call me Daddy or Papa instead of Cal. The day when she would know the truth about who I was. “Hey, baby girl!”

I swooped her up into the air and she laughed, delighted.

“Someone looks like they’re in a bit of a sugar high,” I noted, spinning her around and then hugging her.

Fern hugged me back enthusiastically, like it never occurred to her that she might not want it. It felt like my heart grew three sizes.

“You have no idea,” Mark said dryly, grinning at me.

I passed Fern over to Maggie and tried to ignore the twist in my stomach. I was viscerally reminded of when I had first met Mark. I’d expected him to be a total stick in the mud. We were such opposites. He was logical, loved numbers, had a steady and quiet existence and that was how he liked it. I was all over the place, usually had paint on me somewhere, and never had the same schedule twice, which was how I’d liked it. But somehow, from that first meeting, we had clicked. I’d known then that he wouldn’t just be my finances guy, but that he would be my friend. We’d spent more time in his office making each other laugh—him with his dry sarcasm and me with my sly, winking comments.

Before I could do or say anything, Violet entered. “Cal?” she looked surprised. “What are you doing here?”

I couldn’t see her, but I might as well have been pressed against her, given how I could feel Maggie going stiff on the other side of the room. I wanted to tell Violet and Mark the truth, but not like this. Not just blurting it out first thing.

“Oh, you know I could never turn down a home cooked meal with you guys,” I teased.

Violet laughed. “We were just going to have leftovers today…”

“Oh no, how awful,” I replied, deadpan. Leftovers of delicious homemade food were better than a microwaved meal that I’d made myself, any day.

“Would you like a drink?” Mark asked.

“Sure.” I paused. “Hey, Violet, I know you’re allergic to the oven but do you think you could spare Mark for a moment? I wanted to talk to him.”

“I’m sure I can warm up some food.” Violet rolled her eyes at me fondly. “Don’t you worry.”

“Why don’t we go help grandma in the kitchen?” Maggie said to Fern, who bounced on her feet excitedly.

“I’m not hungry, I had cookies!”

“Hmm, that’s okay, we’ll just use your second healthy food stomach, it only accepts healthy food. So even if your cookie stomach is full, this one isn’t.”

That was pretty clever. I grinned at Maggie as she ushered Fern into the kitchen.

Mark crossed through the living room into the dining room, where they kept some nice whiskey on the shelf in a cut-glass bottle. “So, what’s up?” He poured me a glass. “Have you been working on a new piece? I hadn’t heard anything from you and usually you’re bursting with ideas once you finish your last work.”

I accepted the glass, trying not to clutch it too tightly. “I’m working on a new piece right now, actually. It’s going to be a masterpiece.”

“Oh?” Mark’s smile was small but teasing. “Is that why we haven’t seen you around as much lately?”

I cleared my throat. “Actually, it’s because I’ve been in Nashville.”

Mark’s smile faded. Not like he was angry, but like he was confused. “Nashville? Why have you been down there?”

“A-hem!” Fern ran in, then stood very straight and stiff like she was about to give an important announcement. “Dinner is served,” she said, in a horrible attempt at a fancy British voice.

I stifled a laugh, as did Mark. Well. Looked like my confession would have to wait.

24

Maggie

I was absolutely terrified.

I had never been this scared in my life. Not that I’d had a very exciting life when it came to thinks like possibly fearing for the consequences. I had never really broken rules, more focused on my career and doing well in school. I hadn’t ever been in a situation where my life was in danger. I had been a bit scared when I’d been giving birth to Fern, this fear striking me all of a sudden that I couldn’t do it—the labor, the pushing, and then raising this baby. What if I screwed her up? What if I was awful at it? I was so young and I didn’t know jack about babies.