“Mmm. Delicious,” Lauren says.
“Tell us! Tell us!” Gloria says, taking another bite. “How’d the appointment go?”
Lauren grins, chewing the cookie. “Dr. Flores says that Christmas will be extra special this year.”
Gloria claps her hands together. “A Christmas baby!”
“December eighteenth,” Lauren says. “Just a few days before our anniversary, but after the annual fund-raiser.”
“You’ll have a solid week of one celebration after another,” Miriam says, sounding as if she’s delivering a death notice. “It will be like delivering a baby in the Arctic.” She shivers at the thought.
“Women have babies in the Arctic, Miriam,” Gloria says. “You know what? You complain too much! You complained last year when they decided to have an outside wedding in December. You survived.”
Miriam is aghast. “I was a Popsicle at the end of that ceremony!”
Gloria shakes her head. “No, you weren’t. Popsicles are sweet.”
Miriam ignores her as both of her hands fly to her head. “We have so much left to do to get your home ready for the baby!”
“The baby could come today and would have a beautiful, safe, and loving home to live in,” Gloria says.
“Safe and loving it is,” Miriam says, refusing to call the home beautiful. “We’ll add a few more touches to it and it will be ready for the baby!”
The thought gives Lauren butterflies in her stomach. In less than five months she and Travis will be parents.
July 1972
Joan sits on a chair in the middle of the kitchen with Christopher on her lap and a towel draped around her shoulders. John holds the hair clippers between his hands as if he’s about to make a presentation of them to royalty. “Hear ye! Hear ye! By order of the palace, Queen Joan shall be shorn on this day of her golden locks.”
“What does that mean?” Gigi asks, reaching up so she can hold the clippers.
“It means,” John says, still using an affected royal voice. “That Princess Gigi and Prince Christopher shall buzz off their mother’s hair.” He bows to Gigi. “I shall plug them in and thou shalt begin said buzzing.”
“Really, Mommy?” Gigi asks, resting her hands on top of Joan’s knees.
Joan nods. “Yep! Buzz away!”
“But you’ll be all bald like Grandpa!” Gigi says.
“I know,” Joan says, laughing. “But my hair will grow back.” She leans in, whispering. “No such luck for Grandpa!”
“Princess!” John says, bowing low again and presenting the clippers. Gigi takes them and John plugs the cord into a wall outlet. He shows her where to turn them on, and she giggles as she brings them up to her mother’s head. John helps her move them from the front of Joan’s head to the back, and her long, brown strands collect on top of her shoulders or fall to the floor like strands of silk. He notices Joan’s face; her eyes are filled with tears, and he reaches out for her hand, smiling. Christopher wriggles on Joan’s lap, wanting to help his sister, and John takes him in his arms, holding him so he can use the clippers, too. Gigi takes a few more strokes with the clippers and then deems that the work is finished. John sets Christopher back on Joan’s lap and reaches for the clippers from Gigi. “Thank you, Princess Gigi and Prince Christopher! Now, in order for the queen not to look like a crazy person, I shall buzz off these straggling tufts of hair that make her look like a baby bird.” Joan laughs out loud and Gigi squeals at the sight of her mom. “Perhaps the princess has a lovely scarf for the queen to wear upon her cranium.” Gigi screws up her face, looking at him. He leans down to her and speaks in his regular voice. “Do you have a scarf that Mommy can wear on her head?”
“Yes!” Gigi shouts, running from the kitchen. She returns moments later, waving a red-and-black bandanna in the air. “I got it!” Joan looks over her shoulder and cackles at the sight of the bandanna they use to play pirates with, shaking her head.
“Thank you, Princess Gigi,” John says, continuing in his royal herald voice. He ties the bandanna around Joan’s head and bows down in front of her, lifting her hand. “I would like to present to the royal court, the Queen Pirate Mother of this palace … the only one able to have someone beheaded and steal booty from seagoing vessels.” Joan laughs, watching him. “The only one powerful enough to subdue other kingdoms and get into a swashbuckling sword fight atop a pirate ship. Please rise for the royal Queen Pirate Mother, Joan Creighton.” Gigi and Christopher clap as Joan stands. John wraps his arm around her and kisses her face. “The most beautiful Queen Pirate Mother in all the land,” he says in his own voice, making her smile.
TEN
July 2012
Lauren flips through the recipes from inside the table drawer and finds the one she was looking for: German Apple Pancake. She had read through the recipe a few days earlier and realized that with the time it took to mix together and bake, she would need to make it on a Saturday morning. She hears the mower outside the kitchen window and knows that Travis will be out there for at least an hour finishing the mowing and weed eating around their home. She sits down at the table, holding her cup of coffee as she reads the recipe.
Do you remember how many times the kids at school told you that they did not eat breakfast and when you would tell them about what you had eaten even that morning, they were always shocked! How our family loved breakfast! It was so hectic inside our small kitchen on those school mornings, but sitting here today, I sure do miss the noise. Every time I made this we would scrape every last bite from the skillet. Somehow, time kept fast-forwarding and this became too big for me and Dad. He always loved it with bacon and the rest of us preferred sausage. It’s yummy with both. Granny Smith apples are tasty in this, but so are Macintosh. You’ll need to cook the Granny Smith for a few minutes in the skillet before popping it into the oven because they take longer to get tender than Macintosh. I hope you enjoy it as much as we did when you were growing up and that your family scrapes every last bite from the skillet, too!
As she stands up to prepare the ingredients, Lauren tries to imagine again how many children grew up in this house and what mealtimes must have looked like for their family. She peels three Granny Smith apples, cuts the core from each, and then cuts them into thin slices before making the batter of eggs, flour, whipping cream, butter, salt, nutmeg, and vanilla. She prepares a mixture of white sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg and sets it beside the stove. When a quarter cup of butter has melted inside the skillet, she sprinkles half of the sugar mixture over it and then places the apple slices on top. As the recipe instructs, she puts a lid on the skillet for three to four minutes as the apples get a little tender. The smell of the apples fills the kitchen with an aroma that reminds Lauren of Betty’s Bakery. “Watch out, Betty! I’m coming for ya!” she says, smiling. She sprinkles the remaining sugar mixture over the apples and then pours the batter on top, waiting until it bubbles before removing the skillet from the stove and setting it inside the oven. She turns on the oven light and looks inside. Without any experience, she never thought she would be able to follow a recipe, but each of these recipe cards is written in such a way that’s easy to understand. The simple language makes the food sound delicious, enticing Lauren to try each dish. In a way that she can’t explain, she hopes that this mother would be proud of her.