28
Gavin
This isone of the best days of my life. I’m sure of it. I hold Jamie’s hand as she pulls into the drive. I watch her, while trying not to let her know I’m watching. I don’t want to miss her reaction.
We may not have much money, I can’t take Jamie to New York or Paris to see the museums and the galleries for our anniversary, but I can give her something else she loves. Her family and her friends. The sunlight flickers through the tall, shaggy evergreens and splashes across her face. I smile at her.
She takes her eyes off the drive, looking at my smile. “What?”
I shrug. “I’m just happy.”
She squeezes my hand. “Me too.”
Then we’ve rounded the last curve of the gravel drive, and right before us is the surprise that I planned. Everyone is outside, in the afternoon sun. Elijah and Tanner are dressed in matching blue dress shirts with khakis, pulled from the back of their closets. Easter Sunday clothes, they’d said. And Shay, she’s wearing a light yellow dress, all poufy and wide, it makes her look like a dandelion dancing in the green grass of the yard.
The kids are filling mason jars with flowers on the picnic table, wild ones picked from the field, the little blue ones with the ragged edges, the white ones that look like lace, the yellow daisies.
Grandma Allwright is bringing out a pie to set on the picnic table. The table is crowded with all the foods that Jamie told me she loved, crispy-skinned Sunday chicken, iced tea with sugar, sweet corn slathered in butter, greens with bacon, and desserts, lots of desserts. Peach pie loaded with peaches, lemon meringue pie with meringue that’s as high as the clouds, strawberry shortcake, piled with fresh strawberries and cream. It’s all there. I’ll admit, those nights we sat in the kitchen and I asked her about her favorite things…I didn’t forget a single one.
Diedre and Tom are here too. They’ve hung red streamers on the front porch and Diedre is pointing out where to tack a bunch of white balloons. When she hears us coming down the drive, she elbows Tom and points our way.
The kids shove the last of the flowers into the mason jars, hop off the picnic table benches and run toward the station wagon. Grandma sets down the pie, wipes her hands on her “That ain’t burnt, that’s flavor” apron, and watches us pull in with a satisfied smile on her face.
I’ll admit, when I called her at six this morning, she was happier to help than I thought she’d be. She enlisted Diedre and Big Tom, and the kids to help. Everybody pitched in.
Jamie looks at the kids running our way, at all the food stacked on the table, the decorations and flowers, and her lips tremble. I can’t tell whether she’s stunned with happiness or if she’s going to cry.
“What is all this?”
“Happy anniversary.” I smile at her and brush a kiss over her mouth, then the kids are yanking open the doors and shouting and pulling us across the grass.
“You should see all the food Gran and Diedre made.” Tanner jumps up and down, dragging Jamie behind him. “Dad told them to make all your favorites. Crispy chicken, corn, peach pie, and lemon meringue and strawberry shortcake. I’m gonna eat dessert first!”
I grin over at Jamie. There’s no way he’s eating dessert first. But I don’t think she heard him. Instead she’s looking at me as if I just reached up, grabbed the moon, and handed it to her.
“You made me my dream meal?”
Suddenly, I’m embarrassed. I didn’t think it’d make her cry. She takes a hurried step forward and then throws her arms around me. I let out a whoosh of breath when she hits me, then I wrap my arms around her and hold her close.
“Thank you. Thank you, thank you. You have no idea.”
I shake my head. The kids seem to realize we’re having a married moment, so they take off, running across the grass back to the picnic table.
“Everyone pitched in.”
Jamie’s not listening, she’s holding me so tight I don’t know if she’ll ever let go. That’s alright, she fits in my arms just fine.
I breathe in her orange blossom-scented hair, and the lingering cherry smoke from the glassblowing studio. She’s small, I always forget how short and how small until I’m holding her in my arms. The grass blows against our legs, and the kids are shouting to Diedre and Tom that they can come to the table, because it’s finally time to eat.
Gran tells the kids they’re as cute as speckled pups, and Diedre tells Tom he better learn to speak up if he ever wants an anniversary party of his own, and I smile and press my lips against Jamie’s temple.
“You’re happy?”
She sniffs and nods. “The happiest I’ve been in years.”
Somehow, I think the same is true for me.
I unwrap my arms from her and take her hand, “Come on. We have a party to attend.”