Page 85 of Nothing But It All
From @jackreedauto:I’m so proud of you. You made this? I love you. You’re so beautiful.
I blink back a wash of tears and keep scrolling.
“Things just might work out, after all.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
JACK
Watch your fingers, Maddie,” I say as she reaches a little too far across the fire.
Yellow-and-orange flames dance happily from the firepit. Nineties country music, Pops’s favorite, plays from a speaker propped up in the kitchen window. Laughter and conversation surround us.
I sit back in my lawn chair, a beer in hand, and take in the scene unfolding in front of me.
Maddie works hard to either burn a marshmallow to a crisp or to get as close as she can to falling in the flames without actually getting hurt. I’m not certain what she’s going for, really. Michael and Ava, with Snaps on her lap, sit beside her, lost in their own world. The topic of their conversation must be fascinating because they only remember the rest of us are here when we say their names.
Pops sits across from me and beside Lauren. He’s been especially entertaining tonight. He had the kids rolling over hamburgers—that Lauren made—and he poked and prodded my wife until she broke down and baked a pan of brownies. He used the kids to lobby me to start a fire.
It didn’t take much effort on his part. I was happy to do it.
Lauren’s eyes meet mine over the flames, and a small smile graces her lips. I wink at her. Her cheeks turn a rosy shade of pink that reminds me of her when she was younger.
“Want a s’more?” Maddie asks, squishing the blackened sugar between two graham crackers. A drip of chocolate falls off the side. “It’s delicious.”
“It looks like it’s going to taste like the hamburgers I made.”
She laughs. “Wrong. You have to burn the marshmallow a little to get it toasty and caramelized. Otherwise, it’s a warm blob of goo.”
“I’m good. Thanks, though.”
She shrugs. “Suit yourself.” She takes a bite of her concoction. The marshmallow forms a thin strand from the graham crackers to her mouth.
“How does it taste?” I ask.
“Delicious.”
I shake my head and chuckle.
“What did you do with all of our blackberries, Pops?” Maddie asks, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Chocolate streaks across her cheek.
“I gave ’em to Mrs. Shaw.”
“When did you see her?” Maddie asks.
“What? Do I have to give you a copy of my schedule for the day?”
Maddie giggles. “No. I was just wondering.”
“I think my grandma is making Harvey a blackberry cobbler,” Ava says. “Isn’t that what you asked her for?”
“I didn’task herfor anything. I merely suggested that a homemade blackberry cobbler sounded mighty fine, and I conveniently had a few pails of them sitting on the porch when she drove by in her little buggy.”
Ava grins.
“You and Mrs. Shaw aren’t fooling around, are you?” Michael asks, teasing Dad.
Dad smirks. “What’s it to you?”
