Page 5 of The Doctor's Surprise Family

“Sorry, I’m a hugger. It’s so good to meet one of Claire’s friends from school! We were starting to think she was too busy to make any, all that homework they load you kids up with.”

“Mom!”

“Sorry, Claire. But youdowork so hard.” She pinched Claire’s arm. “You’re looking too thin.”

Buster shoved his wet nose into my palm. I petted his big head and he wriggled with glee.

“Your friend passed the Buster test.” Alan was grinning. “Look at them bonding. Just don’t feed him scraps.”

“I won’t,” I said, and Buster did sad eyes. But from the look of him, he was plenty well-fed.

“Let’s get inside while I check on my turkey.” Sharon shooed us inside, and I couldn’t believe it, not just how nice it was, though it was that. What sent me spinning was how lived-in it felt. Everywhere I looked screamedhomeandfamily: a trio of coat hooks on the wall by the door,Mom,Dad, andClairepainted on the backboard. A cute little end table crowded with photos, Claire’s graduation, Claire at the fair. Claire’s mom and dad cutting their wedding cake. I spotted a pack of Claire’s little shoe-guards sitting on a shelf above the coat rack, a man’s gloves to one side of them, a woman’s scarf to the other.

“Should I take my shoes off?”

“I wouldn’t, if I were you. Buster likes socks.” Alan took my arm. “Sharon won’t let us mess with the turkey, but the side dishes are anyone’s game.”

Next thing I knew, we were all in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner. I won Sharon’s praise with my fine carrot-chopping, but she nudged me out when I went for the gravy.

“Uh-uh, no you don’t. That’s perfect already.”

“Gran’s recipe,” said Claire. “Momstillwon’t share it.”

“Not till you’re settled with your own family. That’s how it’s always been, so — hey! No spoons!” Sharon smacked Claire’s spoon away as she went for a taste. Claire stole a carrot and ate that instead. Buster watched, mournful, waiting for spills. Me, I kept waiting for the enchantment to fade, for the curtain to fall back and reveal… I don’t know. Cameras, maybe. Big movie lights. Whatever went into this kind of magic. Only, the night went on, and it never did. The picture-book moments just kept on coming, and the dizzying thing was, they all felt… real.

We went round the table before we dug in, said what we were thankful for by candlelight. Alan said Sharon, and Claire’s success. Sharon said Alan, Claire, and her health. Claire said her parents and all their support. I didn’t know what to say, so I said this dinner, and everyone laughed, but I didn’t feel stupid.

“Well, dig in,” said Sharon. “Before it gets cold.”

“Yes, thank you, Sharon, for this wonderful meal.” Alan stood up to carve the turkey. “To the chef, the first slice.”

“To the chef!” Claire raised her glass, and we all drank.

It couldn’t have been the wine — I didn’t drink much — but the rest of that night swam by in a blur. Claire and her parents weren’t like on TV, not like I’d thought when I first saw their place. They had little in-jokes they sometimes explained, and sometimes they didn’t, and I laughed anyway. They annoyed each other in commonplace ways, Alan asking Claire if she’d had her oil changed, Claire rolling her eyes,for the millionth time, yeah. They told round-robin stories where one of them started, then another took over, then the last of them burst in at the end with the punchline. Claire talked about school, Alan about retirement. Sharon didn’t believe he’d ever quit working.

I felt half-sad listening, knowing I’d never have this — a family I went back with all the way to the start. I still exchanged emails with one of my foster moms, but only quick updates. Nothing like this.

After dinner, we all made a start on the dishes, rinsing off what we could while the rest sat and soaked. When the dishwasher was crammed, Sharon called a halt. She herded us all to the den for hot chocolate and a movie, but I couldn’t say what movie we watched. All I could focus on was Claire and her parents. Claire was stretched out with her feet on the couch, sleepy from the turkey, wholly relaxed. Sharon was leaning up against Alan, and halfway through the movie, he took her hand. Whenever something funny happened onscreen, Claire would look at her parents and they’d look at her, and they’d all laugh together and turn back to the screen.

Claire sat and nudged me as the credits rolled. “You’ve been quiet,” she said. “You feeling okay?”

I straightened. “I’m great. This whole night’s been great.”

Claire stretched till her back cracked and covered a yawn. “We shouldn’t drive back tonight. We’ve both had some wine.”

I must have looked doubtful, because Alan laughed.

“There’s PJs you can borrow in the guesthouse. Might be a little bit short in the leg, but other than that, you should be okay.”

“Thank you,” I said. “You don’t mind me staying?”

“We figured you would.” Sharon stood up and smiled. “That’ll give me time to pack up your leftovers. Turkey to last you the rest of the week.” Her grin turned impish, and Alan facepalmed.

“Take it,” he groaned. “As much as you want. If you don’t, we’ll be eating it till Santa’s big day.”

Claire shot me a look —didn’t I tell you?I bit back a chuckle.

“Thanks. That sounds great.”

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