Page 31 of Cabin Fever With My First Flame

I brush my teeth and then slip on my robe, ready to greet the day ahead. As I walk down the hall, I start humming along with Jenny’s favorite Christmas CD by Home Free playing on the stereo. They’re an acapella group with perfect harmony, which is why I don’t sing along with them. I’d only ruin the vibe with my howling.

“Good morning!” I shout, startling everyone. Ava has her hand in the cookie jar—literally—and quickly snatches it back when she knows she’s been caught. I reach inside, grabbing one of the shortbread cookies to split it with her. I bend down and half-whisper, “Cookies make the best breakfast appetizers.”

Ella is directing Jonah, who is standing on a stool and cracking eggs into a bowl. She points at Ava, “Don’t let that sweet face fool you. She’s had three ‘appetizers’ already. I doubt Mom is going to be very happy about that.”

I scan the room and don’t see Bailey anywhere. “Speaking of your mom, where is she?”

Mia answers as she puts premade biscuits onto a baking sheet. “Sleeping. Ella said the smell of bacon would wake her up if the coffee didn’t.”

I reach for one of the pieces of bacon that Micah has sitting on a paper towel to absorb some of the excess grease. “It woke me up, and I think it smells delicious. Did you all plan on getting up early just to make breakfast?”

Isaac grins while he stirs a pitcher of orange juice concentrate. “We wanted to cook for you and Bailey. You always take care of us, and this morning, we wanted to take care of you! Do you like it?”

I wrap an arm around Isaac’s shoulders and squeeze. “I love it! I might have you guys cook every morning from here on out.”

Micah laughs. “Don’t push it! If Ella and Mia hadn’t shown us what to do, we’d be eating cereal for breakfast this morning.”

Bailey shuffles in, still half asleep, and makes a beeline for the coffee pot. She yawns as she reaches for a mug and begins pouring. It’s not until she takes her first sip that she notices it’s the kids who are cooking and not me. Bailey’s mouth drops open, and her eyes widen in shock. “Wow! What’s all this?”

Jonah stops what he’s doing, jumps off his stool and runs to give Bailey a hug. Mia, Isaac, and Ava join him. “It’s our Christmas present to you! Our mom used to say that ‘acts of service are the best presents in the world because they never break or get shoved in the back of a closet!’”

Bailey’s eyes become misty, and she smiles at each and every one of them. “This is the best present I could have gotten. Thank you!” She walks over to Micah and Ella, who are both continuing to cook. She hugs them both. “This is so wonderful!”

Ella winks, “This isn’t even the best part.”

It’s not until Ella and Micah plate our food and then take it into the dining room that I understand what she means. The table is set for two, with a large candle burning inside a glass jar and wine glasses from my cupboard. The plates are filled with fluffy scrambled eggs, bacon, and hot biscuits with a whipped honey butter glaze.

Isaac follows us in with the pitcher of orange juice made from concentrate and pours a glass for us both, spilling a few droplets on the table as he does. He uses the hem of his shirt to wipe it up. “See, Finn! I even cleaned up for you!”

Bailey and I are both giggling when Mia, Jonah, and Ava come in carrying the small portable CD player from the living room. Mia plugs it in while Jonah puts in a CD, most likely from Jenny’s Christmas collection. They let Ava contribute bypressing the play button, who gives us two thumbs up and then runs out of the room.

Micah bows and sets a small bell on the table. Using what I presume to be a British accent, he says, “If you need anything, just ring the bell, and one of us will take care of you. Enjoy. Please ring the bell twice when you are finished.”

The song “What Child Is This?” plays softly in the background, and Bailey closes her eyes. “This is one of my favorite Christmas songs. Is the ‘The Little Drummer Boy’ still your favorite?”

“It is. Why don’t we pray before the food gets cold? I’d hate for all their hard work to go to waste.” I reach for Bailey’s hand and can’t help but appreciate how her delicate fingers fit into mine as if God made her just for me. When I’d embrace her, her head would fit perfectly underneath my chin, and my arms would fully encompass her small frame.

I clear my throat and my thoughts. “Dear Heavenly Father, we thank You for six amazing children who understand what the Christmas spirit is all about. It’s about recognizing the greatest gift of all—Your Son, whom You sent as a sacrifice on our behalf. We thank You for this food, but more importantly, for the hands that prepared it. In your name, Amen.”

Bailey echoes the Amen and then picks up her fork to take a bite of eggs. She puts a hand to her mouth and gasps.

“What? Is it that bad?” I ask.

“No! It’s that good! Finn, you have to try these! It’s the perfect balance of cream, pepper, and salt. They even added some Italian seasoning.”

I take a bite and relish the flavor. Putting on airs, I use a hoity-toity accent, which doesn’t sound any better than the not-so-British accent Micah had used, “Dare, I say it? These are the best eggs I’ve ever tasted! I think there’s a secret ingredient hidden inside!”

There are a few giggles on the other side of the French doors that separate the dining room from the rest of the house. Ava shouts, “It’s because they were made with love!”

“Yes! That’s it!” Bailey exclaims. “I thought I tasted a hint of love mixed in.”

Eventually, the children leave us alone, and I expect the conversation to be stilted. It isn’t. Bailey and I talk for nearly an hour about nothing and everything all at once.

Bailey rubs her tummy as if a mother is caressing her unborn child. “That meal was so good that now I have a food baby.”

I set down my fork and then wipe my mouth to hide my snort. “I’m sorry; what? What is a food baby?”

Bailey rubs her belly one more time. “It’s when you are so full your stomach sticks out, and it looks like you’re five months pregnant.”

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