Gigi looks up at Joan. “What about you, Mommy?”
“Um, I’m thinking I could borrow a gown from the hospital and go as a patient.”
Gigi shakes her head. “No, Mommy. We see you as that all the time. You need to have a pretend costume.”
Joan’s face straightens at the words and she sets Christopher down. “That’s how they see me,” she says, looking at John. “As a patient. Somebody sick.” She looks down at Gigi, who is trying to keep Christopher from taking off his lion hood.
“You are a patient, Joan. That’s all she means.”
“I don’t want her to remember me as being sick and puny,” she whispers hotly.
“Nobody said puny,” John says.
“I said puny! Sick, puny, and whiny. I don’t want any of it,” Joan snaps.
Gigi and Christopher pop up their heads to look at Joan. “What’s wrong, Mommy?” Gigi asks.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Joan says. “I’m just working on some costume ideas.”
October 2012
Lauren and Travis spend time in the kitchen making a three-cheese egg casserole. She leans over, reading the recipe card on the counter: Absolutely one of our favorites! Saturday mornings were made for this. “When Grandma got so sick that winter, you helped me make this for her and Gramps several times. How many meals did we take to them that winter? This dish always made Grandma smile. I hope it still makes you and your family smile, baby girl.
Lauren puts eggs, milk, and sugar into a bowl and mixes them while Travis grates a cup of Monterey Jack cheese and cubes two ounces of cream cheese. “What if we don’t find Bud?” she asks, reaching for the cottage cheese in the refrigerator. “Or what if we do find him and he has no idea who the cards belong to?”
Travis melts butter in the microwave. “If we’re honest, it’s a long shot.” He picks up the recipe card. “Unless he recognizes the handwriting or has an exceptional memory of a customer who told him that they used his milk to make homemade yogurt, I’d say the chances of tracking down the owner of the cards are slim to none.” He looks at her and knows he’s disappointed her. “But anything’s possible, right?”
Lauren adds the three cheeses and butter to the egg mixture, plus a half cup of flour and a teaspoon of baking powder. She mixes everything together and pours it into a three-quart baking dish, then opens the oven door, holding her belly as she does. When she straightens, her hand is still on her stomach, and she gasps. “The baby’s kicking again!” She reaches for Travis’s hand and puts it on the spot, making him smile.
“Feisty,” he says, looking at her. “Just like his mom … or her mom!” He keeps his hand over the spot, and the baby kicks again, making him smile. “At least she doesn’t give up like her dad.”
Lauren puts her hand on top of his. “You’re not giving up. You’re being practical. And you’re right. It is a long shot that Bud will know anything.”
He pulls her to him, wrapping his arms around her. “But there is a slight chance. We’re Mabreys, and we believe a slight chance is better than no chance at all!”
“Really?” Lauren says, looking at him.
He nods. “After all, there was a slight chance that you’d learn to cook and look what has happened!” She pulls away from him, grabs a dish towel from the counter, and swats him. “I love you,” he says. “I think you’re amazing.” The words make her blush. She didn’t hear words of praise growing up. Someday she hopes to receive a compliment without feeling awkward, but she knows that until then, Travis will continue to praise her. He bends over and looks at the casserole inside the oven. “I think this is going to be amazing!”
She walks to the table and picks up the recipe card, reading from it. “This dish always made Grandma smile. I hope it still makes you and your family smile, baby girl.” She looks at him. “It’s already made you smile.” She taps the table. “It’s kind of cool to think that whoever wrote these recipes probably served them on this table.”
“And you can pass the recipes and the table on to our child.” He stops for a moment. “A copy of the recipes. Not our copy of the recipes. Let’s not let that happen again.”
TWENTY-ONE
October 1972
John, Joan, Gigi, and Christopher sit at the table, finishing their dinner of beef stroganoff with noodles. The anticipation of the evening is about to make Gigi explode, and she wiggles in her seat. “When can I put on my costume?”
Joan laughs. “For the twentieth time, after you have warm food in your stomach. You can’t just put candy in your belly.”
“Yes, I could!” Gigi says in all seriousness, making John chuckle.
“I know you could,” Joan says. “But I don’t want you to get sick. I want you to have warm food in your stomach.” Gigi begins to eat quickly, and Joan opens her mouth to stop her but gives up. Halloween comes around only once a year.
“So, you put warm food in your belly,” Gigi says, “and then put your costume on.”
“I’ve got it ready!” Joan says.
“You do?” John asks. “What is it?”
Joan smiles. “You’ll see. I have one for you, too.”
“Yay!” Gigi says, shoving another bite into her mouth before scrambling away from the table.
Christopher leans over his high chair, wanting down. “Okay, I give up,” Joan says. “Are you full?” He nods. “Are you really full or do you just want to go get your costume on with Gigi?”
“Gigi,” he says, looking for his sister.
Joan takes the bib from around his neck and lifts him from the high chair. “All right, let me hear your roar.” Christopher opens his mouth like a baby bird and roars, sounding like a duck again and making Joan and John laugh together. She takes him to his bedroom and he
