Page 92 of Guarding Over You
The baby carrots were glazed with orange juice the way his mother always made them and he was positive Gracie would like them also.
The red smashed potatoes still had a bit of skin mixed in with lumpy pieces of potatoes, butter, salt and pepper with some parsley. The cheesy bread, that was the hard one.
“I told you. Don’t judge the bread though.”
“Is that homemade? You made it yourself or asked your mother to do it?” Arden asked.
He lifted his chin. “I’ve watched my mother for years with yeast-based pastries, but no. I wasn’t adventurous enough to go there. It’s a loaf of French bread, cut in half and butter and cheese spread on it to bake. It was pretty easy and looks good.”
“I’m hungry,” Gracie said. “Do you have dip for the chicken?”
He’d forgotten about that and jumped up to get it out of the fridge. “Barbecue sauce, right?”
“That’s her favorite, unless you’ve got ranch.”
“No ranch, sorry. How about you?”
“I don’t need to dip this. I’m betting it’s flavored enough.”
“We’ll find out,” he said.
Arden filled her daughter’s plate and they sat and ate a family meal like he’d done hundreds of times in his life.
Loud, full of laughter, jokes, and stories of their days.
Maybe he never thought he’d have it himself but was damn happy he was now.
“Tell Dr. Blaze what you did in daycare today, Gracie.”
The little girl was gobbling her chicken up to the point there were only two pieces left. He’d got four items on her plate over the three she always said she’d have.
“We finger painted. I came home and my shirt was messy. But Mom said she can get it clean. I hope so. It was my favorite shirt. But I had so much fun.”
“That sounds like a great time. What did you paint?”
“I painted the three of us in the backyard with sparklers.”
He thought this dinner was going to give him the warm fuzzies, but that statement trumped it a hundred times over.
“I’d love to see it,” he said.
“I took a picture,” Arden said. “It’s still drying. We can bring it home tomorrow.”
She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, unlocked it and handed it over.
He saw the photo on the screen. Three stick figures, him the tallest, Arden in the middle, then Gracie. They had clothes on. He was betting it was what they wore that night because he remembered the pink nightgown on Gracie.
There was one sparkler in each of their hands, faces with big smiles and what he was guessing was fireworks in the sky behind them.
“This is wonderful,” he said. “You’ve got some artistic talent there.”
“I told her the same. And a good memory.”
“I can’t draw at all,” he said. “The only person in my family who had a steady hand was Gale. She liked to draw animals, flowers and rainbows. Girly things.”
“I’m a girl,” Gracie said.
“You are. Your mother reminds me of my sister.”
