Page 68 of The Snuggle is Real
“It is? What are you making me?”
She giggled. “No, silly. I can’t cook.”
“Okay, you can make a PopTart then.”
“Fooooord!” She crawled from the bed and grabbed my wrist, tugging as if she could hope to move me. “I want pancakes!”
“Pancakes, huh?” I reluctantly climbed from the bed, all evidence of my morning…distraction…long gone. Which, frankly, was a relief. “I don’t know. That’s a lot of work.”
“With chocolate chips too!”
“Chocolate chips? Where’d you get a weird idea like that? Yuck.”
“No, it’s good!” she said earnestly. “Grandma Dottie told me they make the pancakesextraspecial. You can put a happy face into it and everything! Grandma says it’ll make you smile when you eat them, and then you’ll have a good day!”
My heart warmed to hear her call Dottie grandma, even as a tiny part of me regretted that I was stillFord.
She’d only called me Dad the one time, but I kept holding out hope for a repeat.
“All right. I’ve got to try this chocolate chip pancake experiment,” I said.
“Yay!” She clapped her hands.
I picked her up and sat her on the counter next to the stove. “You’ll have to be my helper though. You can put in the chocolate chips.”
Charlie grinned. “I’ll make the best happy face ever!”
I chuckled, a lightness taking me over. Nothing lifted my spirits like this kid. “You know, I think you just might.”
After pulling pancake mix from the pantry, I let Charlie measure it into a mixing bowl. I added the liquid and eggs, stirring the batter to the right consistency while my frying pan heated on the stove.
“Okay, here goes nothing.” I used a ladle to pour a small oval of batter into the skillet, then a second and third one. “Okay, chocolate chip girl. You ready?”
“Yes!”
I picked up Charlie, holding her over the stove so she could place the chocolate chips. “Just don’t touch the pan,” I warned. “It’ll burn.”
“I know. I’m not a baby!”
“Oh, sorry. My mistake.”
“I’m really smart,” Charlie said smugly as she dropped chocolate chips onto each pancake. The happy faces were a little…lopsided. One looked demented. But she seemed happy, and that was all that mattered.
I put her down on the floor and finished the pancakes, carefully flipping them and piling them onto a plate.
Before I could start the next batch, my phone rang on the counter.
The caller ID flashed up Northern Illinois Recovery Center. That had to be LuAnne.
I handed the plate of pancakes to Charlie. “Get started on these and I’ll come join you in a minute.”
I wasn’t sure what LuAnne would have to say or how Charlie would handle it, so it was best she got some breakfast in her first.
I picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Ford, hey.” LuAnne’s voice was threadbare. “How’s my girl?”
A sudden rush of anger burst in me.
