Page 85 of All We Could Still Have

Gianna arrived on a blustery December day, two weeks after her due date. On the day we took her home from the hospital, Casey boarded a plane for Nashville. I had told Casey I wanted to wait six months before officially adopting Gianna because I wanted Casey to be sure of her decision. She reluctantly agreed. The time dragged. Every time the phone rang, I was sure the caller would be Casey saying she had changed her mind. She never did.

On an unseasonably cool June day, I officially became Gianna’s mother. Kyle, Gianna, and I celebrated with Aunt Izzie and Dana at Pendleton 88. Hank carried the baby around the restaurant all night, introducing her to the other customers as his great-niece.

She had dark hair, and some people commented she looked like me. The comments always made me smile. I would thank the person and say nothing more. Like Kyle, Gianna had blue-gray eyes, and I saw more of him than Casey in her, but maybe I was only seeing what I wanted to.

On the way home from dinner that night, Kyle and I listened toThe Highwayon satellite radio. The DJ announced a song as the latest “Highway Find,” a program that identified up-and-comers in country music. The song was called “Doing Good with My Bad” and was written and performed by a new singer named Casey Flanagan. I swear, Gianna smiled as we listened.

Chapter 50

Seven Years Later

A crowd of small children with paintbrushes in their hands sat around easels at Sip and Strokes, listening to Aunt Izzie’s instructions on how to paint a unicorn. “Find the shapes with the number nine on your drawing and use your pink paint to fill them in.” She had been teaching at the studio for almost five years. Under her guidance, the place had become a favorite destination for kids on Saturday and Sunday afternoons.

Gianna especially loved painting there with her great-aunt. Today, Kyle and I had invited our little girl’s entire first-grade class and a few other friends to celebrate her seventh birthday.

“Gigi looks like she’s having fun,” Dana said. My sister had started calling Gianna Gigi shortly after her birth. Despite my objections, the nickname had stuck.

“She always does,” I said. My girl’s most defining characteristic was her huge smile.

She sat at a table with Baby Sharon, who everyone called Sharra these days, and Elizabeth’s daughter, Hallie. Twelve now, Hallie was five years older than the other two girls and treated them like little sisters, always watching out for them. We’d even let her babysit a handful of times when we went out for a quick dinner.

Now Hallie pointed at her painting and said something that made Sharra and Gianna burst out in laughter. Gianna leaned closer toHallie’s easel, holding her brush high in the air. Pink paint dripped onto her smock. She’d even managed to get some in her hair, which was the same chocolate-brown color as her dad’s. At this early stage in her life, she resembled Kyle, with the same oval face, puffy lips, and cleft chin. She definitely had some of her biological mother in her too, though. She’d recently played Ariel in the school’s performance ofThe Little Mermaid. Seeing her singing on that stage with the red wig reminded me so much of Casey that I had felt goose bumps on the back of my neck.

Gianna must have sensed that I was watching her, because she turned toward the bar where I sat and blew me a kiss. Love surged through my body as I reached out with my hand, pretending to catch the kiss.

Kyle dropped his arm over my shoulder and whispered in my ear, “She’s such a mommy’s girl.” It was true. All the worrying I’d done that Gianna and I wouldn’t connect was for naught. I was the one she always asked to tuck her in and read her a story at bedtime. I was the one she cuddled with on family movie night. I was the one she wanted in the snow tube with her when we went sledding.

At the front of the shop a bell rang, pulling me from my thoughts. The door opened, and Sharon stepped inside, carrying a large teal bakery box with her maiden name and logo embossed in the bottom corner. She set the box down on the bar in front of me and slowly lifted the cover, watching me closely as she did so.

Driscoll’s Bakery had officially opened five days ago. Gianna’s was the first birthday cake Sharon had baked for her new business. It was shaped and decorated like the unicorn the kids were painting.

I bounced on the balls of my feet as I took in all the details. The body was purple, Gianna’s favorite color. “This is amazing.” One of my favorite touches was the sugar-cone horn. I pulled Sharon into a hug. “You are going to be so successful.”

She laughed. “You should wait until you taste it before saying that.”

Elizabeth snapped a few photos of the cake with her phone.Mountain Views Magazinewas featuring Driscoll’s Bakery in the March issue.

“Who’s ready for cake?” I asked.

Everyone gathered around the bar. I lit the candles and stood behind Gianna as we all sang to her. When the time came for her to blow out the candles, she leaned closer to the cake with her tongue hanging out of the corner of her mouth. I knew she was thinking about what to wish for. She’d been trying to decide for weeks between a bicycle and a puppy. She loved Deeogee and wanted a dog of her own. “I’m going to make two wishes,” she said. I smiled, knowing both would come true. Earlier in the month, Hank had asked if we minded if he gave her a bike, and after the party, Kyle and I were picking up a two-year-old black Lab from the animal shelter.

As everyone sat around the tables eating cake, which tasted as good as it looked, Dana synced her phone with the wireless speakers to play music. A Taylor Swift song came on. “This is my favorite,” Sharra said. She jumped out of her chair to dance, pulling Gianna up with her. The two sang along.

The song ended. As the girls sat down again, the opening chords of Casey’s latest began to play: “Knowing My Baby’s Happy Makes Me Happy.”

“This is Mommy’s favorite song, isn’t it, Mommy?” Gianna said.

I smiled at her. “It sure is.”

Someday soon I would tell her why.