Page 68 of When We Were More
His voice is warm and smooth.
“Really, Henry? An old red apron with a frilly bottom does it for you?” My tone is teasing
“When it’s you wearing it, absolutely.”
I turn my head enough to see his face. There’s nothing to indicate he’s saying what he thinks I want to hear.
When we get to the living room, I stop in the doorway, and Henry almost runs into me. I’m acutely aware when he puts a hand on my waist to steady himselfandwhen he leaves it there. I’m watching Layla, on her knees, leaning over my coffee table and coloring away while she singsFrosty the Snowman.How this child has been through so much with her mother leaving and is still full of joy is a tribute to Henry’s parenting and, I’m guessing, support from his family.
I look over my shoulder and smile at Henry.
“I’m gonna get the food ready. Let’s eat in the kitchen.”
“Sounds good. I’ll get their hands cleaned up and meet you in there.” I hand off Lena to him and go to the kitchen to get everything prepared.
Within ten minutes, we’re all sitting around the table eating. To say Layla is thrilled with the chicken nuggets is an understatement. I’m pleased watching her enjoy them.
It strikes me that this is the first time I’ve had a meal here with anyone except Gram, Lester, Ruthie, and Sally.
With all the holiday activities, especially for Henry with a family the size of his, I haven’t seen Henry since Christmas Eve.
My Christmas Day was quiet. I spent the morning reading, enjoying several cups of coffee, and even sitting out on the swing for about half an hour. Then, in the evening, I went to Ruthie and Sally’s for Christmas dinner.
I didn’t know the protocol for how and when to give Henry’s kids their presents. For Shannon and Troy’s kids, I went over and spent an afternoon with them. But it’s different with Henry. I don’t want to overstep. Hence, when he told me Layla asked when she was going to see me to give me my gift, we made this plan. Here we are.
“Everything okay?” Henry asks.
“Yeah, everything’s good.”
After dinner, Henry insists on helping with the dishes, so he puts Lena in the portable play yard he brought, gives her a few toys, and she happily entertains herself. Layla, however, still has the energy of one hundred children and marches in circles around the kitchen and back door area holding her baton and singing an off-tune rendition of her own mix of Christmas carols.
Henry and I are just finishing the dishes, and he’s opening the wine for me when a loud whack gets our attention. We turn simultaneously, and I see Layla standing near my kitchen table—a beloved hand-me-down from Gram—her baton on the floor and a noticeable dent in the leg of the table.
Tears immediately fall from Layla’s eyes, and her breathing kicks up, almost to the point she’s hyperventilating.
Between sobs, she says, “I’m s-sorry, Tillie. I wasn’t s’posed to play with my baton. Please don’t be m-mad. I promise I won’t break anything else. Are-are y-you gonna still be m-my friend?”
Oh my gosh, my heart breaks for her. Henry moves toward her, but I put my hand up, silently asking for a chance to help her. He stops. I move to her, kneel, and put my hands on her shoulders.
“Hey, look at me for a second, Layla.” When she does, I push a strand of tear-soaked hair behind her ears. “First, of course, I’m still going to be your friend. You don’t have to worry about that. You’re a great friend, and now you’re stuck with me.” I smile, trying to ease her fear. Her breathing starts to slow a little. “Plus, it was a mistake. You didn’t do it on purpose. Accidents and mistakes happen.” An idea occurs to me. “Can I show you something in the other room?” Her tears are slowing, and she nods.
I stand, take her hand, and lead her to the living room. When we get there, I pull out one of the end tables, revealing the big gouge in my living room floor. Then, I tell her the story of how Imade that gouge when I was a little girl and how Gram made me feel better.
“Do you know why it’s still here even after all this time has passed?”
She shakes her head.
“My grandmother could have had it fixed, but she kept it here so she would think of me and my summers here whenever she saw it, and it would make her happy. Now let’s go back to the kitchen.”
Henry watches our whole interaction off to the side, and I lead Layla back to the table. When we’re by the dent, I run my hand over it.
“I bet your dad could fix this right up for me.”
Layla turns to look at Henry. “Will you, Daddy? Will you fix it?” Her tears have stopped, thankfully.
“Sure, ladybug. I can fix it. No problem.”
“Well, let’s wait a minute.” I kneel to Layla’s level again. “I think I’d like to keep it there. Then every time I see it, I’ll remember our special dinner, my pretty yellow flowers, and getting to spend time with you and Lena. I like you two very much. What do you think?”
