11/23/11

Louisville

You couldn’t say I hadn’t been warned. But no warning could have adequately prepared me for what was waiting on the other side of security.

I stood in the middle of the corridor as if rooted to the spot. Travelers were rushing around me, running home to family, to traditions. Brian was standing in the arrivals area. I could see him, cap pulled down over his eyes, but he hadn’t seen me yet.

But the little blonde boy standing next to him had. His eyes pinned me in place. They were very familiar eyes, electric blue, not wise and tired, but wide and innocent. And very, very skeptical.

It was all real now. I could no longer pretend that my boyfriend didn’t have a kid. That kid was no longer an abstraction. That kid was staring me right in the face.

I briefly considered my options. I could face this head-on, like the adult I purported to be, but what fun was that? I could turn around and run right back to the gate, pretend my plane had crashed, live out the rest of my life in the concourse like Tom Hanks in that one movie. I could pretend I didn’t speak English and go outside to hail a cab. I tried to dredge up my high school German. Of all the useless languages I could have taken.

Brian was waving at me now. Even with his eyes shaded, I couldn’t miss his grin, or the flowers he was holding. I squinted. Wait, those weren’t in his hand. They were in the kid’s.

I pasted a huge smile on my face. “Shit,” I said through my teeth.

Alicia’s voice echoed in my head, from months in the past, before this moment had ever materialized in my head. Your garden-variety divorce does not constitute a problem when you’re a single New Yorker in your 30s. And neither does his having a kid, if he does. It was easy for Alicia to say. She wasn’t staring at that kid.

I reached Brian, on legs made of rubber, and he threw his arms around me. I was shaking too badly – my God, shaking! – to do much more than put my arms around him awkwardly.

“Hi, sweet girl.” He kissed my cheek. “Stop shaking. It’s OK,” he whispered.

He pulled back, a hand still on the small of my back, and placed his other hand on the kid’s shoulder. “Meg…this is my son, Baylee.”

Of course. Of course he was. But the pride in those words was enough to melt my furiously beating heart.

Baylee was virtually a smaller clone of his father, with more and blonder hair, a mess of curls not terribly unlike my own. He was less than a head shorter than me; I couldn’t begin to guess where he got his height. He held out the flowers to me – tiger lilies – but suspicion clouded his eyes.

“Hi,” he said tentatively.

“Hi, buddy.” I forced a smile as I took the flowers.

I’m not your buddy, his eyes said as we started walking, Brian between us.

I didn’t remember the ride back to the house from last time – I’d been too sleepy after a late flight – but it certainly hadn’t seemed this long last time. The silence in the car was suffocating. Well, not quite silence. A steady stream of video game beeps and chirps issued forth from the backseat. I had no idea how to interrupt it.

Brian reached over and took my hand. He smiled at me, his face shaded and hollowed by the bleak orange and gray light that slid in and out of the car.

“It’s OK,” he said simply.

Back at the house, Baylee still had his nose buried in his Nintendo DS. It was a wonder he found his way into the house.

“Baylee,” Brian said. Flatline. He reached down and covered the screen with one hand. Baylee glared up at him as a mournful chord sounded, no doubt his character’s death knell.

“You’ll live,” Brian went on dryly. “I’m gonna get Meg settled into the guest room. If you go get ready for bed, we can watch a movie.”

Baylee side-eyed me. “Is she gonna be there?”

Brian heaved a sigh and set down my suitcase. “Can you show yourself to the guest room?” he said to me. His eyes were exasperated. “My son and I need to have a word. Again.”

He pulled Baylee toward the kitchen, and I grabbed my suitcase and started down the hall. My feet felt like lead. They should have felt like clouds, but I was going to the wrong destination for that.

“Motherfucking guest room bullshit,” I muttered under my breath.

I turned the second doorknob on the right, flung it away in disgust and flipped on the light. Soft brown walls, a green quilt on the double bed, a watercolor of a forest. There was a door open in the corner; I peered through it and saw a small bathroom, all white. It was all very nice, I supposed. But not nearly as nice as snuggling with Brian, much less snuggling-adjacent activities. Of course it made no sense to share his bed tonight. I’d never be able to forget that his son was across the hall. But these were all theories, and practice sucked.

I pushed my suitcase over halfheartedly. It landed on its back on the floor. I sat on the bed, bouncing a little. I waited. I opened my suitcase and pulled out a pair of yoga pants, throwing my jeans into the suitcase. It was a bit chilly to ditch my cozy sweater. When had Thanksgiving gotten so cold? I sat on the bed and waited some more.

Finally, Baylee trudged past the door. He didn’t look at me. The door next to mine opened and closed. Brian followed a few seconds later and leaned against the doorframe. He curled his lip.

“Kids are just a…blessing,” he muttered, every word oozing with sarcasm. “They’re just swell.”

I smiled. “Now, now. Don’t say that like he’s not.”

I patted the spot next to me on the bed, and he sat. He kissed me, fingertips under my chin, and my eyes fell closed. His mouth, his touch were always so much sweeter for the wait, and now his kiss felt a tiny bit forbidden, with a child on the other side of the wall. My hand moved to his leg, and he broke the kiss.

“We’re doing the right thing,” he murmured. “It’s the crappy thing, but it’s right.”

“It’s definitely the crappy thing.” I laid my head on his shoulder, unable to suppress a sigh of pure longing. Just his warmth next to me was enough to set my body humming, just a little.

“I know. I miss every inch of you.” He put an arm around me and kissed my forehead. His voice dropped even further. “I guess we’ll just have to sneak out to the car for a quickie tomorrow.”

I pinched his leg. “Stop.”

Baylee’s door opened again. I sat up straight and folded my hands in my lap at the sound. Brian moved his hand from my waist to my shoulder.

“OK. Let’s do this.” Baylee stood in my doorway. I couldn’t tell if the smile on his face was fake, or brave, or pure, or what.

“You brush your teeth?” Brian said.

Baylee grimaced and walked away, and I thought I heard him mutter, “I tried.”

“Do I smell a little smart-ass?” I whispered.

“Oh, totally.” Brian grinned at me. “No clue where he gets it.”

I wanted to laugh. Instead, I pressed my lips together and jumped right in. “Does he…know I’m your girlfriend? How do you handle that with a kid?”

The faint sound of running water came from the bathroom. Brian twisted his lips in an idle, thoughtful gesture. “Yes. And he knows I think you’re very special. He’s a smart kid. I won’t lie to him. That’s sort of what we were talking about.” He smiled wryly. “I basically told him that he needs to act like a human.”

I swallowed. “Does his mom know about us?”

“Yes! Of course. I had to tell her.” Another wry, fleeting smile. “Couldn’t have Baylee going home talking about some strange woman in my house.” He tweaked the tip of my nose. “Or my bed.” I made a stinky face at that last part, and he pulled me closer and kissed my forehead. “Yeah, yeah.”

I sighed and leaned into his shoulder again. “I don’t know how to talk to him,” I admitted in a whisper. “I’m not good with kids.”

“He’s not expecting much,” Brian said. I raised an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged. “Well, he’s not. He’s a kid.” He brushed my chaotic hair over to one side and traced circles on my neck with his thumb. I closed my eyes at the tender touch.

“Be yourself,” he whispered. “It’s good enough for me. It’ll be good enough for him.”

The water shut off, and Brian and I both hopped up from the bed and walked out into the hallway. Baylee came out of the bathroom, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Star Wars?” he said hopefully.

Brian nodded. “Sure thing, buddy. We’ll watch it up here. We’ll make some popcorn.”

We all started back toward the living room together. Even in the dark, I could feel Baylee’s eyes on me.

“You better like Star Wars,” I thought I heard him mutter.

11/24/11

Lexington

“Relax,” Brian said without looking at me. The car slowed, and he flipped on the blinker.

I steadied my voice. “What makes you think I’m not?”

“You’re destroying that grocery bag.” He reached over and pulled one of my hands away from the damp and shredded edge of the brown paper bag, which held a bottle of wine. Just as quickly, he dropped my hand and wiped it on his pants. “And your hands are kinda sweaty. Like, two pairs of gloves sweaty.”

I couldn’t help but smirk at the Dumb & Dumber reference. “Well, yeah. We’re in the Rockies.”

We turned down a long driveway, dotted with trees whose branches still held a few brown leaves.

“Time to put the game away, pal,” Brian said to Baylee. The video game beeps stilled.

The driveway rolled by underneath us. My lungs constricted as the house came into view: a gorgeous story-and-a-half house, very new-looking, with a circle driveway. There was an attached garage that looked like a tiny house unto itself, with a basketball hoop in the driveway.

Brian cut the engine behind a black minivan with a tribe of white stick figures on the back window. The back door opened, and Baylee was off like a shot, heading for the front door, which bore a wreath of colorful fall leaves and velvet ribbon.

I stared at the house. My heart was pounding beyond control. I hadn’t met a boyfriend’s parents since college. I hadn’t met a boyfriend’s kid, well, ever, prior to last night. Now it was all happening within the span of 24 hours. Certainly this had felt serious from the start, but now – now it was serious. It was easy for us to say and feel whatever we wanted in a vacuum. As of this weekend, we no longer existed in a vacuum.

I contemplated emptying the paper bag and breathing into it.

“Hey.” I turned at the sound of Brian’s voice, at his hand on my knee, and he leaned in and kissed my cheek. His eyes were serious but reassuring. “None of this would be happening if I didn’t love you. I want us to be a team. I got your back. They’ll love you, too.”

“And if they don’t?” I challenged him.

His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well, I did marry the last girlfriend they didn’t like.”

I got out of the car, slowly. I ran my clammy hands down my black pants. I thought I looked parent-worthy, snuggly cardigan, nice T-shirt, black pants, flats. I wrapped my fingers around the neck of the wine through the bag. Brian took my other hand and pulled me into the house.

It was beautiful inside, a grand foyer with a staircase leading to a loft, a little sitting room with coats heaped on a bench and a small table circled with low chairs and plastic place settings. There were paintings on the wall, impressions of leaves and creeks rendered in short, heavy, vivid strokes.

“Mom’s paintings,” Brian said proudly. “She got herself a hobby when she retired.”

There were photos on the wall, too, two big canvases of young men, one leaning against a tree, the other sitting on the ground with one knee bent up. I had only a moment to squint at the latter before Brian tugged at my elbow, mumbling in embarrassment, but it was long enough to realize I was staring at my boyfriend’s senior picture. I snorted with laughter.

“Nice hair, babe,” I said. “Do you own stock in American Crew?”

“Cram it, Meg,” Brian said through his teeth.

“There’s my little duck!” I turned at the squeal, and a woman in her 60s, wearing a green apron and a messy blonde braid, rounded the corner and folded Brian in her arms. She was small, birdlike, sort of like my mother, but I glimpsed iron will in the force with which she hugged him.

Brian squeezed his eyes shut, and I saw fondness and embarrassment jockeying on his face. “Hi, Mama,” he said.

Mrs. Littrell let him go and turned her attention to me. “And you…” She placed her hands on my upper arms, as if sizing me up, but there was warmth in her eyes. “You must be Meg.” She hugged me as tightly as she had Brian. “I’m Jackie, you don’t even think of calling me anything else, oh, I’m just so pleased to meet you in the flesh, you must let him show you off to everyone else.”

I patted her back, awkwardly. “The pleasure is mine…Jackie.” I caught Brian’s eye. He was grinning from ear to ear.

Jackie grabbed both our hands and dragged us through the house. She was talking a mile a minute in a soft, rolling drawl. “The bird’s doing great. Heather’s working on the mashed potatoes. We just put in the green bean casserole.”

“You made two pans, right? One for me?” Brian winked at me behind his mom’s back.

“Now, Brian Thomas, you have never gone hungry in this house.” Jackie stopped and poked him in the stomach. “It’s only back home you need to eat some real food.”

Brian squeezed her shoulder. “You should take that up with my heart doctor. You know how he feels about real food.”

Jackie craned her neck around a corner. I followed her head into a family room with a massive stone fireplace and a TV as big as a refrigerator, showing football. Two men, who both looked older than Brian, were sitting on the couch. Baylee was sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace with four – four! – other fair-haired kids about his age, three boys and a girl.

“Y’all, look who’s here!” Jackie said brightly, shoving Brian into the room.

The kids with Baylee all leapt to their feet and took off for Brian, ambushing him with hugs that sent him stumbling back into me. “Uncle B! Uncle B! What’d you bring us?”

“I…” Brian looked at me, visibly trying not to laugh. “I think I brought you a new friend?”

I smiled at the kids. Two of them did now appear to be a few years older than Baylee, and they were almost exactly my height. “I’m Meg,” I said to them.

The little girl smiled brightly. She had her strawberry blonde hair pulled back with barrettes. “I’m Hannah.” She jerked a thumb at each of the boys in turn. “That’s Hank. Hunter. Hayden.”

Hank, the biggest boy, who also had strawberry blond hair buzzed close to his head, scowled at her. “I can talk, thanks. Just not as much as you.”

A laugh escaped me. These kids were probably the source of 90% of their parents’ gray hair.

The younger of the guys on the couch leaned past the older and waved at me. He looked like essentially a taller, balding version of Brian. “I’m their dad. I’m Hal. I’d get up, but…” He gestured at his lap. There was a little blonde boy asleep between him and the old guy, head on Hal’s leg, mouth open in a snore. “And this is Henry.”

The old guy got up. He was in his 60s as well, at least a head taller than Brian, and his hair was pure white, but other than that, the resemblance was uncanny. Same broad smile and blue eyes. He clapped my hand in both of his. “I’m Harry. You must be Meg.”

I smiled. The grin on his face put me at ease. “So everyone says.”

“We’re glad you’re here.” He pointed to the bag in my hand. “Can I take that?” I handed him the wine, and he whipped the bag off it as if presenting a prize. He nodded approvingly at the pinot noir, which had cost a lot more than I usually spent on alcohol. “Good choice. Jack!” he called to the kitchen. “Is the corkscrew in there?”

“I figured we’d wait for dinner,” I started to mouth to Brian, but he was already flopping down on the couch – on the side away from the sleeping child, thankfully, because he sometimes had sense – and bro-hugging his brother.

“I’ll get one,” I assured Harry. I might as well earn my keep.

I wandered into the kitchen, which was all white in a way that should have been Star Wars-esque but somehow still felt homey, with a painting of a rooster rendered in angry little red and yellow strokes. Jackie was back at the counter, manning a stand mixer whose bowl was full of potatoes, while a younger woman bent over the oven, fussing with the turkey. A bald-headed baby in a pink onesie dozed in a carrier on her back.

“There should be a corkscrew over there on the island,” Jackie said without looking up from the mixer, pointing in the general direction of a white island where a couple bottles of wine already sat opened. I walked across the room and grabbed the corkscrew.

The younger woman straightened up, strawberry blonde hair falling like a curtain. She was probably a decade older than me and looked very, very tired, with bruise-dark circles under her green eyes, but she smiled warmly. “Meg, right?”

I smiled. “That’s me.”

She crossed the room and clasped my hand. “I’m Heather, Hal’s wife.” She half-turned so I could see the baby. “And this is Hope.”

Six kids, and the entire damn family had H names. Jesus H. Christ, indeed. I cooed obligingly at the baby and excused myself to bring Harry the corkscrew.

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked Jackie on my way out.

She looked up long enough to wink at me. “I think you get a free pass this year. If you ain’t sick of my son by next year, I’ll put you to work.”

That was assuming he wasn’t sick of me by then. I pushed the thought out of my head.

Baylee and the H brigade ran past me at full tilt just as I was heading back into the family room. I hit the wall and sucked my stomach in to keep from getting trampled.

“Put your coats on!” Brian and Hal shouted after them, more or less in unison.

Harry smiled as I handed him the corkscrew. “I’ll grab your glass from the dining room. Unless you’d rather have something already open in the kitchen? We have another bottle for dinner.”

I waved a hand. “Oh, no, the pinot’s fine.”

Another quick smile from Harry. “Good. Otherwise I’d think it was poisoned.” He walked out.

The little boy on the couch jerked awake. His face crumpled. “Daddy, bathroom,” he whined.

Hal put a hand to the kid’s butt and made a face. “I’ll be back,” he said, picking up the kid in one arm and heading for the bathroom.

I sat next to Brian on the couch. “I will not be having six children,” I informed him, “so don’t get any ideas.”

Brian snickered as he put an arm around me. “They think they’re the Duggars. And just think about this.” He mapped out invisible lands with his free hand. “Allllll those kids are homeschooled.”

I couldn’t resist. “How do you homeschool a baby?”

Brian moved his hand to the curve of my waist and tickled me. “You and your smart mouth…”

“Hey, hey, hey, no getting fresh on my couch.” Harry walked back into the room and handed me a glass of dark wine to match the one in his hand as he sat back down.

Brian pouted. “What am I, yesterday’s newspaper?”

Harry jerked a thumb at me. “She’s a guest. You’re my kid. Get your own drink.”

I liked this family.

Brian harrumphed and got up from the couch. His phone fell out of the pocket of his khakis. I wouldn’t have noticed if it hadn’t rung. I glanced at the screen in passing. It was Howie.

I snapped up the phone and ran my thumb across the screen in one practiced motion. “Littrell’s House of…” I caught myself, realizing Brian’s dad was at my other elbow, before I could say anything inappropriate. Instead, I went on, “Fish. You hook ‘em, we cook ‘em.”

“Meg Michaels, as I live and breathe.” I heard the smile in Howie’s voice. “Happy Thanksgiving, kid.”

“Thanks. What’s up with you?”

“Well, I was calling to gloat about fantasy football, but I guess we can stall until he comes back. We’re having Backstreet Friendsgiving. He ever mention it?”

I smiled. “Maybe once or twice. Sounds like a good time.”

“Yeah, we’ll pass the phone once he comes back.”

“Well, what if I don’t want to give the phone back?”

“That’s fine. Speaking on behalf of the band, I like you better anyway.”

“Howie, you old…” I caught myself again. “So-and-so.”

Howie chuckled. “You’ve got one of his relations sitting next to you, don’t you?”

“Good guess,” I said. Brian came back into the room, holding a beer by its neck. I cupped my hand over the phone and stage-whispered, “Say nothing, act natural.”

Brian snatched the phone from me. “Hello?” He frowned. “Real funny, D. How was I supposed to know Stafford was actually gonna do work today?”

“One of the guys in the band?” Harry said to me. I nodded. “So you’ve met them all, too?”

I grinned. “They’re how I met Brian, if you take my meaning. Work.”

Harry nodded. “Brian mentioned that. Rolling Stone? I read that back in the day. Is, uh, Hunter Thompson still around?”

Yep, I officially loved this family. I smiled sadly. “No, he died several years ago. We never got to work together.”

“You know, he was an old Kentucky boy.” Harry inclined his wine glass toward the TV. “We didn’t agree on much, but I think we would have agreed on the Cats.”

I had no idea what he was talking about. We were watching an NFL game, which I was pretty sure didn’t involve cats. I had absolutely no idea what was going on. Woo, sportsball!

“Yeah, pass us around.” Brian beckoned me closer and put the phone on speaker.

“What up, dawg?” Nick said. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Carter,” I said. “You staying out of trouble?”

Nick was grinning from ear to ear, I could hear it in his voice. “Never.”

“Good,” Brian said. “I’d be disappointed. How ‘bout this game?”

“I’ve got the Packers defense, so fuck you,” Nick said cheerfully.

“I benched Stafford,” Brian said glumly, “so fuck the horse you rode in on.” Harry cleared his throat at the other end of the couch, and Brian looked only a little guilty.

Hal walked back into the room, bouncing the little boy – Henry, I thought – against his chest. He looked forlornly at the three of us, taking up his real estate, and settled into a recliner. Henry-or-whatever squirmed against him, and Hal set him on the floor.

“Hey, lemme talk to someone else,” Brian said.

“OK. Hold on.” There was some shuffling, and a voice I didn’t know filled the phone. “Hey, brother. Happy Thanksgiving.”

Harry and Hal both looked up like a shot had gone off. Brian’s eyes widened. “Kevin. What is up, brother?”

“Hey, not a lot. Enjoying the holiday. You over at the parents’?”

“Yeah.” Brian held out the phone. “Everybody say hi to Kevin.”

“Hey, Kev,” Harry, Hal and I said.

“Kevin, there’s someone I’d like you to uh…meet?” Brian’s eyes met mine.

“Hi, Kevin. I’m Meg,” I said into the phone. “I’m, uh, Brian’s girlfriend.”

Kevin didn’t say anything for a moment, but I could hear him chuckling. When he spoke again, his voice was full of amusement. “So you’re the famous Meg. These idiots think you hung the moon.”

I grinned. “Well, then, how idiotic could they be?”

“Well, my cousin thinks you hung the moon, too, and I don’t think he’s an idiot. You keeping him out of trouble?”

I elbowed Brian affectionately. “I do what I can.”

“Good. Am I gonna meet you at A.J.’s wedding?”

I looked at Brian. He gave me a hopeful grin. “December 17,” he mouthed.

I thought quickly about my Christmas plans. I was taking a week off to go home to Illinois. What was another flight, another couple days of traveling?

I nodded. “OK,” I mouthed to Brian. “I’ll do my best,” I said to Kevin.

The phone made another couple of circuits, and then we hung up. Brian gave me a funny look.

“I figured Kevin was going to the wedding, but I’m a little surprised he’s at Friendsgiving.” He stroked his chin absently.

“Does that…mean something?” I prodded. Everyone, I realized, was looking at us.

Brian shrugged, his expression unreadable. “Don’t know.”

“I see. And, uh, when were you planning to invite me to this wedding?” I mock-glared at Brian.

He looked guilty. “It slipped my mind? Multiple times?”

Harry shook his head and finished the last of his wine. “I didn’t raise you in a barn, boy.”

Hal was staring at the TV. He held up a hand. “Hold up…”

The guys all fixed their eyes on the TV. I followed their eyes just in time to see a bulky, blue-suited guy catch the football and tumble into the end zone.

Harry and Hal both jumped to their feet, whooping. Brian kicked the coffee table. The little boy looked balefully at them all and walked into the kitchen. I followed him.

“We’re close. Very close.” Jackie was scraping the last of the mashed potatoes into a serving dish. She looked up at me. “You can do one thing to help me. Can you rally everyone to the dining room to say a prayer?”

I smiled at her. Something about this woman made her impossible to say no to. I suspected she’d spent many years cultivating that. “I’ll do my best.”

The little boy was looking around helplessly, his mom and grandma busy. I squatted to his eye level. “Wanna be my helper…” I racked my brain again for the name. “Henry?”

I held out a hand to him. He looked at it suspiciously for only a moment before putting his chubby hand in mine, and we walked out of the kitchen. I thought I saw Heather wink at me as we went.

I stuck my head into the family room. “Dining room. Prayer.” That was easy.

At Harry’s direction, we walked back through the kitchen, through a mud room, and out to the open garage, which held a pickup truck and a red Dodge Caliber with a horse-themed license plate. It wasn’t as cold as it had been last night, but I still missed my jacket. “We won’t be out here long, little buddy,” I said to Henry, even though he was wearing a thick sweater.

I raised my voice toward the older kids, who were shooting baskets enthusiastically. “Guys, come inside and pray!”

Baylee, of all people, abandoned the game and walked toward me. So did Hannah. The other kids, a couple of them griping, followed him.

“Are you cold, little tot?” Hannah said to Henry. She took his hand from mine and hustled him inside.

I tried to think of something to say to Baylee. “You guys having fun?”

Baylee actually half-smiled at me. “Yeah. Are you?”

Caught off-guard, I smiled back. “I am. Your dad has a really nice family.”

The other kids ran past us. Baylee shoved his hands in his coat pockets and looked at me. The smile was gone, the suspicion back. “Dad likes you a whole lot.”

My heart was in my throat. So we were going to do this now, huh?

“Yes, I think that’s right,” I said. “I…I like him a whole lot, too.”

“You gonna try to be my mom?” He couldn’t have gotten his point across more bluntly if he’d been holding a lead pipe. “‘Cause my stepdad tries to be my dad, and I’m not a fan.”

I wondered if he’d gotten that little piece of vocabulary from his obviously sassy older cousins. I bit my lips and racked my brain for an appropriate answer. Only one made sense.

I placed my hands on Baylee’s shoulders, lightly, awkwardly. “I don’t know what the future holds,” I said slowly, the words coming out only as they came to me, “but I will make you one promise, Baylee. I promise I will never ever, try to be your mom. You already have one of those.”

I dropped my hands and held one out to him in a handshake. “Can I be your friend?”

He eyed my hand as if it were a dead fish, but eventually gave me his and shook. “We’ll see,” he said, his tone neutral. “Keep being nice to my dad, and we’ll see.”

He walked into the house, and I exhaled, my breath leaving my mouth in a long cloud.

In the dining room, the family had circled the table, hands joined. I squeezed in next to Brian, who laced his warm fingers through my cold ones. On my other side, Hannah held out her hand expectantly to me, as if it were only natural.

“Let’s quiet ourselves in the presence of the Lord,” Jackie said.

We all bowed our heads. I stared at the green swirls on the cream-colored rug. I had never been one for prayer. It was odd to think of joining a family that was so big on it. It was odder still, I realized almost instantly, to think of joining this family. And it was most of all odd to think that joining this family felt only natural right now. I closed my eyes with them.

“God, we give you thanks for this day you have made,” came Hal’s voice. “We thank you for this food you have given us, for the hands that harvested it and prepared it. We pray for those who don’t have enough to eat today or any day. We pray that they will be fed. We give you thanks for family, for friends, for new friends…”

Brian squeezed my hand hard. A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.

Yes, perhaps this place could be home.