Page 65 of Those Two Words

It’s the perfect Friday, and when I see it’s almost time to head to my dad’s house for dinner, the drive across town is done with a smile on my face.

My dad has been weird all week. I offered to come over earlier this afternoon before my therapy session to prep dinner, so all he had to do was throw some dishes in the oven and plate it up. He’s never one to turn down a cooked meal he doesn’t have to prepare, but he shooed the offer away.

When I arrive at my old childhood home, I notice a few unfamiliar cars on the street. Only they’re not unfamiliar the more I study them, because I recognize that light blue Chevy and my stomach drops. Not with the idea of seeing Patrick, but at the idea of him seeing me like this. I’m in ultimate slob-mode right now; with a makeup-free face, hair still damp from my bath, and a zit lurking on my chin. Luckily, my pajamas can easily pass as some knitted loungewear.

I frantically check my appearance in the rearview mirror when movement from the window catches my eye. A small face is pressed up against the living room window and waving frantically.

There’s no running away now to change my outfit, and I can’t help how my grin grows when I see Lottie fogging up the glass. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but I do see the look of excitement in her features.

Climbing out of my car, I head up to the house, quickly running my fingers through my hair, trying to flatten it down. Just as I reach the front step, the door flies open. Lottie waves and jumps from where she is standing in the doorway. “Hi, JoJo. Can I hug you? Daddy says I need to ask first.”

This kid is so stinking cute. I drop to her level and hold out my arms. “I would love a hug.”

She catapults herself into my open arms, and I give her a big squeeze before letting go and straightening.

“Let’s get inside before it starts raining,” I say, sensing a shift in the air. She takes hold of my hand and pulls me inside. It’s only then that I notice Patrick standing in the open doorway, a warm smile on his lips when he sees our joined hands.

“Can JoJo sit by me, Daddy?” Lottie pleads between us.

“You’ll have to ask her yourself,” he says. When she’s not looking, he mouths You don’t have to, but the thing is, I want to. Lottie is an amazing kid, and being around her is like having a shot of serotonin.The more time I spend with her, the less sad I get about how she came into the world.

“I would love to sit next to you, Princess Lottie.” I give her a little curtsey that has her squealing in delight.

“You’re gonna love your surprise. Oh.” Her eyes go wide, and she slaps a hand across her mouth. “Oops, sorry, Daddy,” she says before running into the living room.

“What surprise?” I ask suspiciously.

“Nothing special, your dad thought it would be nice to have a Sadler-Thomas family dinner like the old days. You look pretty tonight. Even in pajamas.” Goddamnit. With a playful wink, he places his hand between my shoulder blades and directs me toward the murmur of voices. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of the feel of his hands on me, which is why I lean back into the touch.

Before we even take a few steps, a high-pitched shriek comes from the top of the stairs, and someone comes charging toward me.

My little sister.

I have just enough time to prepare myself before she throws herself off the bottom step and plows into me. We cling to each other like it’s been years and not months.

“What are you doing here?” I cry happily into her hair, neither of us wanting to let go.

“Oh, you know, I decided I couldn’t wait until May to see you, so here I am!”

I look at Patrick over her shoulder, and from the look in his eyes, I know this isn’t an impromptu trip. Harriet told me only a few weeks ago that money was tight and she might not be able to afford the trip for a while.

You? I mouth at Patrick.

He just shrugs and walks away. Not realizing how he made an already great day remarkable.

“Look at this one of you and Harriet,” Claire coos.

She brought a shoe box full of old photos with her, all of them captured by Ted and his Polaroid camera. We passed them around the table during dinner, and while memories of Mom and Ted still sting, it’s nothing like the pain and distraught I would have felt a couple of years ago, or even several weeks ago. The more time I spend in town, surrounded by everyone under this very roof, I can feel my heart healing.

I let out a soft laugh as I look at a photo of Harriet running around in a diaper as I chase her down with a hose in our parents’ backyard.

Claire and I are in the kitchen clearing the dishes, but we’ve been distracted by the black-and-white Polaroids for the past ten minutes. I’m flicking through a small pile when I freeze, and the tears that have been threatening to fall finally spill over.

She catches the change in my body language, and wraps an arm around my shoulder when she peers over at the photo held tightly between my fingers. It’s one of my mom standing at the cliff edge at Anakiwa Lookout. “I’m sorry if these pictures upset you tonight, sweetheart. I should have known better.”

“No, no,” I rush out, hating that she feels she needs to apologize for sharing such happy memories of both our families. “It’s always difficult to remember how young she was when we lost her.”

“She was,” Claire agrees. “I miss her every day, as I’m sure you do. I still remember the joy on her face when she told me she was pregnant with you. We were both so excited to be having babies in the same year. She was glad I was going through it first so I could tell her what to expect.” She’s laughing, despite the forlorn look in her eyes. My mom and Claire had been best friends since their early twenties, having met when they worked part time at the post office.

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