Page 45 of Can We Try?

“Good.” I can’t help myself when I peck a kiss on her cheek. “What about you, Grandma?” I stand to my full height. “Can I get you anything?”

“Oh, heavens no. This is plenty.” She nods to her plate of pancakes, her side of bacon, and the steaming cup of coffee sitting in front of her.

“Mom?”

“Make yourself a plate, Lachlan. We’re all good here.” She smiles at me, and it’s one of those mom smiles that tells me she can see right through me. I’m not just being nice; I want to be everything that Maggie needs, no matter what that looks like. It's that one look from my mother that lets me know she understands that. I expect a phone call later, unless she talks to Dad first. My conversation with him should clear up any confusion she might have.

Maggie isn’t mine.

But I want her to be.

That’s all they need to know for now.

“Have you kids thought about a nursery theme?” Mom asks.

“Not yet,” I tell her, sitting next to Maggie with my plate piled high. I glance over at Maggie. “I think we want to find out the gender first, before we make any solid plans.”

“Makes sense.” Dad nods.

“Doris, Maggie and I are planning a shopping day soon. We’d love for you to join us,” Mom tells Doris.

“That’s sweet of you, but I don’t get around as well as I used to. I’m glad she has you,” Doris says.

“Grandma.” Maggie sighs.

Doris reaches over and pats her hand affectionately. “It makes my heart happy that you’re a part of such a loving family.”

“Grandma, I’m not—” Maggie starts, but my dad speaks up and stops whatever it was she was going to say.

“You’re both family now. Soon, we’ll have a little one to add to that list.”

Beneath the table, I reach for Maggie’s hand and squeeze gently. She turns to look at me. “No matter what,” I whisper, and she nods, blinking away her tears.

Dad starts telling a story about how I would beg for bread with sweet sauce when I was little, because I couldn’t say pancake. Everyone laughs at my expense, but I’m okay with it.

“I’m thirty-three and still love the bread with the sweet sauce,” I tell them.

“Maggie, if the baby has a sweet tooth like this one, you’re going to be on constant watch. Lachlan is a terrible influence.”

“What? Me?” I act appalled. “My son or daughter will know the finer things in life, like sugar.” I chuckle.

“Oh, well, you better plan to stay up with them all night when he or she is ready to party at 2:00 a.m. and you both have to work the next day.”

“Okay, so maybe we’ll keep it to the nights where Mom or Dad are off the next day,” I amend. Maggie’s laughing, her shoulders shaking, and I love it. I love how well she fits in with us. How easily she’s already a part of this family.

“You’re going to have to learn to say no to sweets.”

“Wait. Hold up now. I don’t have to say no for me. Right? Mags? Say it isn’t so,” I say dramatically, and her shoulders shake harder as she covers her mouth with her hand.

“You can’t very well eat cupcakes in front of your kid and not give them any,” Dad explains.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get them. I’ll just wait until the baby is asleep. Problem solved.”

“Yeah, until your son or daughter is old enough to know where you hide the goods. I remember when you were five or six, you wanted a Little Debbie cake, but it was so close to bedtime that I told you no. You pouted, but that was all. An hour later, I heard wrappers, and it wasn’t a sound a mouse would make. Besides, it was coming from your room. I snuck into your room to find you under the bed with a flashlight and the entire box. You’d already eaten two by the time I found you.”

That’s how the rest of the morning goes. Mom and Dad share stories from my childhood. Maggie and Doris soak up every detail, even sharing memories from Maggie’s childhood that include her parents.

I watch as they share a sad smile, but it’s a good smile too. It’s nice to talk about loved ones who are no longer with us. It helps keep their memory alive.

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