“Aha!” Gloria says, pointing at her. “You have seen that movie!”
“There is no such movie!” Miriam says, leaving the office.
Gloria runs to her office door and leans out into the entryway. “You just described the plot, so I know you’ve seen it, Miriam!” She turns around and puts her finger to her lips. “Shh. We don’t want to spoil this.” She puts the rest of the cake she was eating into her mouth. “Let’s just keep our mouths closed so this doesn’t stop and simply say, ‘God bless our secret Santa.’”
THIRTEEN
September 1972
“What are you doing?” John asks, entering the kitchen.
“I’m going to make pumpkin ricotta pancakes with Gigi,” Joan says, pulling butter, eggs, ricotta cheese, and milk from the refrigerator.
John stands in front of the sink, looking at her. “You have surgery today. You can’t eat.”
“But you can eat. And Gigi and Christopher can eat.”
“You don’t have to do this, Joan.”
“I knew you would say that,” she says, pulling a mixing bowl from a cupboard. “I know what I do and don’t have to do, John.” Her voice is cracking and he’s sorry he said anything. “Gigi is old enough that she will have memories. I remember my mom in the kitchen. I can still smell some of the things she made for us when I was growing up. I don’t want Gigi to remember me or you looking scared on the day that I went to the hospital. I want her to remember her mom in the kitchen, making her breakfast.” Her voice cracks and John steps to her, wrapping his arms around her.
“I think she needs to remember her mom and dad in the kitchen making breakfast for her!” He yells over the top of Joan’s head, “Hey, Gigi!” They hear her small voice answering from her bedroom at the top of the stairs. “Come on down! We’re making pancakes for breakfast!” They can hear her feet slap onto the floor and then break out into a run for the stairs.
“You’re helping, too, Daddy,” she says, coming down the stairs and turning the corner into the kitchen.
“I’m helping, too, and no matter what Mommy says, I’m loading the pancakes with chocolate chips!”
Joan laughs and breaks two eggs into the mixing bowl. “If you’re both helping, then you both need to wash your hands.”
John opens a pack of ground sausage he recently bought at the butcher and begins to form patties as Gigi helps Joan pour in the rest of the ingredients to make the batter. “Remember,” John says to Gigi, “it’s all in the stirring. If you don’t use your magic wand then the pancakes are ruined.” Gigi looks at Joan and Joan hands her a whisk. Gigi attempts to put it into the bowl when John stops her. “Nuh-uh! You can’t put that in there without waving it over the bowl and saying the magic words.”
“What magic words?” Gigi says.
“Eatem, eatem! Eatem uppem!”
Joan smiles and Gigi giggles, waving the whisk over the bowl. “Eatem, eatem! Eatem uppem!” she says, thrusting the whisk into the mixture and stirring it as if her life depends on it.
“How many pancakes will you eat?” Gigi asks her dad.
John lifts up his shirt, sticking out his belly so it’s round and firm, like a bowling bowl. He slaps it like a drum and snarls his upper lip, using a funny voice. “I’m thinking eighty is a good number.”
Gigi and Joan both laugh and he keeps his stomach sticking out as they finish cooking. They work together inside the small kitchen and Joan finds herself smiling throughout. If she wanted Gigi to have a memory, then John was going to do whatever he could to make it a lasting one. When the pancakes, sausages, strawberries, and blueberries are on the table and Christopher is in his high chair, Gigi spreads her arms open and says, “Welcome to our feast!”
“It is a feast!” John says. “And I’m extremely grateful for your mommy, who cooked it.” He looks at Joan and her mouth turns up into a sad smile.
“Are you done talking, Daddy?” Gigi asks.
John laughs and rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands. “I am, sweetie. Go ahead and eat.”
They would explain again to Gigi that Joan would be going in for surgery today and would be gone for a few days, but for now they ate, and they laughed together, just as Joan had hoped.
July 2012
Lauren pulls a gallon of whole milk from the fridge and sets it on the counter. She picks up the recipe card for Homemade Yogurt and reads through it again.
I wonder how many gallons of homemade yogurt I made as you were growing up. Once I made that first batch, there was no turning back! Your dad said, “I will never be able to eat store-bought yogurt again.” And as far as I know, he hasn’t! For a slightly sweet yogurt, include less than one-third cup of sugar, but if you like it unsweet, don’t add the sugar. Either way it is delicious and, like you always said, “Filled with strength and nutrients!” We’d dollop this on waffles and always ate in on the side with pancakes or oatmeal casserole, and we made countless yogurt parfaits! Again, I only used milk from Bud’s farm, but if you move away, I hope you can find fresh milk at a local farm near you. Remember, don’t let the milk get over 200°F while it is on the stove, and when it cools, don’t let it go below 100°F.
Lauren flips the card over and reads the directions: Pour one gallon of milk into a pot and heat it to 180°F to 200°F. Scrape off the skin from the top and let it cool to between 100°F and 110°F. Add one cup of whole yogurt as a starter, one to two tablespoons of vanilla, and
