Page 69 of Nanny for the Doctor

“Yup. It’s not that hard. Just need to grab the baking soda and salt.”

Mae retrieves the remaining ingredients from the cupboard and proceeds to walk Henry and me through the basics of mixing pancake batter from scratch.

“Always mix your dry ingredients first.”

I watch as she measures out the flour, baking soda, sugar, and salt into little cups that Henry adds, one by one, to the large mixing bowl.

“Okay, now use the fork to swirl it all together. Just try to mix it up really good.”

He does alright for a while but then gets a little carried away, and a bit of the white fluff spills onto the counter.

“Whoops.”

Mae smiles, shaking her head as she scoots the mess to the edge of the marble and into her hand.

“Now what am I supposed to do with this?” She holds up her fist, shaking it at Henry.

Turning my back to get another cup of coffee, I suddenly feel the light dusting of something raining down my neck.

I spin around, and Mae playfully points at Henry, who laughs hysterically, shaking his head.

“It was her!”

“Mae. Now please don’t encourage that kind of behavior.” I eye her hard and then go back to the coffee pot.

Another smack of flour hits my face as I turn around, and my mouth falls open.

“You didnotjust throw flour in my face!”

Mae wipes the white dust coating her hands onto her shirt. “Who, me? Couldn’t be.”

Tense silence fills the kitchen momentarily before Mae bursts out laughing.

She’s the most beautiful thing in the world when she laughs, and I find myself quickly losing the battle to remain in control of this cooking extravaganza.

Mae sprinkles more flour on Henry, who promptly smears some on her arm, and I fling a little off the counter toward my son.

Nailing him right on the cheek, I laugh, and he readjusts his sight to launch some in my direction. I try to duck, but soon, it’s a flour free-for-all in the kitchen, and we all wind up dusted in the soft white substance.

At this point, I’m laughing so hard I can’t breathe, and then it hits me that this morning has gone so similarly to others when Clara was here. She was always the funnier one of us both, the gentler, more spontaneous partner and parent.

While there’s a familiar sting of grief twisting in my gut, there’s also a happiness I haven’t enjoyed with Henry in a long while.

A genuine light sparkles behind his eyes, and suddenly, he looks like a kid again. I often forget that he’s just seven.

He’s so mature, and maybe thatisbecause he was forced to grow up faster than expected because of the accident.

But right now, he’s just a sweet kid laughing his ass off as we try, and mostly fail, to make pancakes.

Emotions swell in my chest, constricting my throat, and I fight hard to keep them locked behind the walls I usually have up. Being with Mae and Henry like this is a precarious situation, and I can’t help but worry it’ll come tumbling down.

“Alright, alright. Truce! Let’s mix the wet ingredients into this new batch of dry, and we’ll see about actually cooking them this time.”

Henry giggles, but Mae is successfully able to add the eggs and milk with just a dash of vanilla. “For flavor,” she remarks.

“Dr. Finnigan, think you can handle flipping?” She looks to me, and I nod with a fake salute.

“Aye, Captain!”

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