CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Grace
“Good girl, now carefully drizzle the caramel over top.”
I stand behind Hope at our kitchen island, helping her pour the ingredients into the crust for the pie we’re making to bring to Lucy tonight. It was her creation, and it’s a beautiful one. It warmed my heavy heart.
The kids didn’t go to school today. We kept them home since last night was so emotional on everyone. They even slept with Sawyer and me, they didn’t want to leave me, and I didn’t want to be away from them either. I haven’t been able to swallow past the permanent lump that has formed in my throat since telling them.
I know I’m doing the right thing but it doesn’t make it any easier. My heart is shattered knowing how much I’m hurting my family.
The last people on earth I’d ever want to hurt.
When making this decision, I had been thinking about Lucy and how I needed to help her any way I could. Of course I thought about my family too, especially what I would do if they had Lucy’s condition. However, after last night I’ve been thinkin’ more about the risks to myself and what would happen if something does goes wrong.
Who will take care of them if something happens to me? Who will bake pies with Hope? Or make sure Parker gets all the hugs and kisses he deserves. Would Sawyer remarry?
These thoughts leave me heartsick.
They’re all things I can’t stop thinking about and I’m terrified. I’m trying to be strong though and not show it. Not only because I don’t want to worry the kids but also because I know this was a choice I made. It’s not fair to dump my fears on Sawyer when I know he’s struggling with this himself. So I’ve vowed to keep this locked inside as best as I can and be strong for my family. It’s the least I can do.
“I sure hope Miss Lucy likes my creation.”
With a smile I put the warm pot back on the stove. “I’m sure she’ll love it. She’s really excited to meet you and Parker, so that in itself will make her happy.”
As I come up beside her and start sealing up the pie with the dough, Hope begins putting the heart shapes on top for decoration.
“Mama, can I ask you somethin’?”
“Of course.”
“If Lucy’s daddy is your daddy, how come we never saw him before?”
I knew this question would come up eventually. I was surprised it hadn’t last night, probably because there were other things preoccupying their little minds and hearts.
A small sigh leaves me as I think of how to explain it to her. I decide with the truth. “My mom, Grandma Hope, met my dad before he met Lucy’s mom,” I pause, making sure she’s following me. When she nods I continue. “When Grandma Hope got pregnant with me, he decided he wasn’t ready to have a child and ended up moving away.”
“He didn’t want you?”
How one innocent question can strike so much pain. I shake my head and give her a small smile.
“That’s not very nice,” she whispers.
I shrug, trying to act like it doesn’t hurt. “Not everyone gets to have an amazin’ daddy like you, but you know what?”
“What?”
“It didn’t hurt me because I had the best Mama in the whole world. Her love was so strong it was all I needed. We laughed together, baked together, shopped together. We conquered the world, just her and me.”
She smiles. “I bet you miss her a whole lot.”
I nod. “Every day. But havin’ you, Parker, and Daddy makes it better.”
“I wish I could’ve met her.”
Close to losing the tears I’m desperately trying to hold in, I move behind her again and wrap my arms around her small body, holdin’ her close.
“Me too, baby. She would have loved y’all so much. But I know she’s smilin’ down on us from heaven with every pie we make.” The thought of Hope having to live without me, if something goes wrong on Friday, has a searing pain slicing through me. “I want you to promise me somethin’, Hope,” I whisper, turning to press a kiss to her cheek.
“Anythin’.”
“Never forget this. Never forget our moments together. Whenever you’re missin’ me, remember what it feels like when we’re together, creatin’ something special with our hands. Something no one else can because it came only from us. No matter what happens, we’ll always have this.” I’m amazed at how strong my voice is considering how frail I am on the inside.
“I’ll never forget, Mama. You’re my bestest friend in the whole world.”
My teeth sink into my bottom lip. “You’re mine too, baby.” I do my best to swallow back the emotion burning my throat. “You ready to finish off this pie?”
She nods.
Sweeping some flour between my fingers, I start the poem we always say to finish off each recipe. “All you need is a pinch of Grace,” I whisper, sprinkling it on the pie.
“And a dash of Hope,” she follows, tossing more on top.
“To make life sweeter.” I turn and press a kiss to her cheek.
“And help love grow,” she whispers, kissin’ my cheek back, her tears mixin’ with my own.