Page 19 of Kansas Keeper
Sandra was the little girl’s mommy, and I’m incredibly grateful to her for doing such a wonderful job raising her. It makes me feel like a terrible person when jealousy rears its ugly head, but I can’t seem to curb the ugly reaction. I just hope I’m successfully hiding it from Beckett and Embry.
It’s not like I want to take the woman’s place or have them forget about her, but every time I start to truly feel like I belong with this family, I seem to get a reminder that I’m not the one they would want to be here if they had a choice.
Forcing my expression to brighten, I turn away from the sink and say, “I’m sure if your mommy loved it, then I will, too.”
I thought I’d hidden my hurt feelings well, so I’m surprised when Embry’s little face takes on a downcast expression.
Completely in tune with her emotions, Beckett immediately asks, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
The little girl’s voice is quiet when she answers, “Well, Mommy used to be here all the time, and she loved flowers and braiding my hair.”
Pointing at me, she adds, “But now, she’s here all the time, like Mommy used to be.”
The confused look in her eyes makes guilt bubble in my stomach. We should have explained this to her. Of course, she’s confused and seeking answers about my place in her life, but the whole ‘birth mom’ conversation seems a little too advanced for her age.
Beckett and I lock gazes over her head, uncertain how to proceed. This is one of the most important discussions of my life, and I feel completely unprepared. I should have practiced, but it’s too late now.
Water drips onto the floor from the strainer of washed strawberries, while I stand there motionless.
As if she has mulled it over and worked it out in her own mind, Embry brightens with an idea. “How about if she is Mommy One, and you are Mommy Two?”
After setting the fruit on the counter, I kneel down and hold my arms out toward my little girl. She runs into them, and I kiss the top of her head before saying, “That sounds perfect. I would be honored to be Mommy Two.”
Unable to resist the sweet moment, Beckett sets down his spatula and kneels to engulf us both in his strong arms. After several quiet seconds, he says, “I didn’t think I’d ever be this happy again after Mommy One died, but the two of you make my life complete in ways I never imagined could be possible.”
“You’re squeezing me too tight,” Embry’s muffled voice complains.
Chuckling, we release the family hug.
Smiling at the two loves of my life, I say, “I would be thrilled to go with you to see Mommy One’s favorite sunflower field. Making new memories with me won’t take anything away from the old memories you share with her.”
“Exactly,” Beckett agrees, smiling wide.
Turning her big, blue eyes up at her father, Embry asks, “So, Mommy Two is a keeper?”
We both chuckle at that, then Beckett looks deep into my eyes and says, “Absolutely.”
Just then the smoke alarm begins blaring. We all cover our ears and look around for the culprit.
Beckett is the first to regain his senses. He jumps up to get the pan of burning French toast off the stove. In the process of getting the hot pan to the sink, he knocks over the strainer of wet strawberries and they scatter across the floor.
I somehow manage to squish one of the strawberries as I stand on a chair trying to stop the screeching smoke alarm.
Embry is still holding her ears as she shouts, “Make it stop!”
As soon as I silence the alarm, I look around at the chaos from my perch on the chair.
Suddenly, it hits me…Life will never be perfect, but even when it’s messy, it’s pretty damn amazing when you’re with the right people.
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