Dad waves his tongs in the air without turning around. "Five minutes."
"You said that twenty minutes ago." When Mom's eyes meet mine, I watch her roll them and snicker.
"And I'll say it again in twenty more if the charcoal doesn't cooperate."
Roger chuckles at that and elbows my father, and I see them share a snarky glance. All I can do is stand there, torn between interacting with my growing family and worrying about Jaxon and how this will affect Mercy. I wring my hands but honestly, nothing is going to stop this anxious tension until he just tells her.
Leah hands me a stack of paper plates. "Here. Make yourself useful and stop stressing."
I take the plates and start setting them out around the table. Jaxon has the pinwheel now and he's blowing on it while Mercy watches with her hands on her hips like a tiny supervisor. She really does look like him so much, and more and more I'm thankful for that.
Mom appears next to me and touches my elbow. "You doing all right, honey?"
"Yeah. I think so." I pause and look at her. "I'm going to tell her today, Mom."
She doesn't ask what I mean. She just puts her hand on my back and rubs a small circle between my shoulder blades. "She's going to be just fine. She already loves him."
"I know. That's almost what makes it scarier." I half laugh nervously and shrug.
Mom squeezes my shoulder and goes back inside. When the food is finally ready, everyone gravitates to the tables. Dad loads up a platter with burgers and ribs and sets it down in the center. Roger carries over the corn on the cob he grilled himself.
We all sit down and dig in, everyone reaching across each other for plates and talking over one another. Mercy insists on sitting between me and Jaxon. She piles her plate with corn and a burger that she immediately pulls apart, eating the patty with her fingers and ignoring the bun entirely.
"Use a fork, Mercy," I tell her.
"It tastes better with hands," she complains, whining a little.
Leah snorts into her lemonade. Jaxon covers his mouth to hide his grin, but I see it and scowl at him. Even Mom presses her lips together to keep from laughing, which is a betrayal I'll remember. But I join them in smiling as conversation flows easily. Everyone has something to say about Dad's cooking, but Mercy is the only one to complain, that there's no green Jell-O, and when we're finished eating, Mercy wants to play soccer. She grabs a ball from the corner of the yard and drops it at Jaxon's feet.
"Wanna play?" she asks him as he glances down at his plate, still half-full of food. But I know him and that food doesn't stand a chance. When his little girl asks, he runs.
"Sure, let's go," he says, standing up. Mercy throws the ball at him again, and he catches it.
"Kick it," she orders, pointing at the ground.
He taps it gently toward her and she kicks it back with enough force to send it past him into the fence. She throws both arms up. "Goal!"
I can't help but join them in the fun, and we end up kicking the ball around the yard for a while, Mercy screaming every time she makes contact. Jaxon plays goalie between two lawn chairs and makes a show of diving for every shot while Mercy counts her goals on her fingers.
When she finally runs out of steam, she drops onto the grass on her back, chest heaving. "I'm tired," she announces. "I want cake." But her eyes drift upward toward the sky where fluffy clouds hover, shading the back yard intermittently.
"Dessert's not for a little while," I tell her. "Come sit with us first." Now is the time. It's been building up all day, and beforewe use up the "cake" distraction I want to tear this bandage off. At least that way, I have a means to settle her if this upsets her. She loves cake.
She groans but gets up and follows me to the patio where Jaxon is already sitting in one of the chairs. He catches my eye and I give him a small nod. He takes a breath and nods back.
Leah's inside helping Mom with dessert. Dad and Roger are at the far end of the yard, talking near the fence. It's as private as we're going to get today.
Mercy climbs into the chair next to Jaxon and pulls her knees up to her chest. Her face is flushed from running and her hair is a mess. I'm thankful for the pair of shorts I make her wear under her dress when she's roughhousing.
I pull my chair close so the three of us form a tight little circle; then I suck in a breath and start. "Mercy, Jaxon and I want to talk to you about something," I say, keeping my voice as calm as I can. But damn if I'm not so nervous. "It's a good thing, okay? Nothing bad."
She looks between us with those big brown eyes that miss nothing. "Okay."
I glance at Jaxon. He leans forward in his chair and rests his elbows on his knees, getting closer to her level. And his voice is so fatherly as he speaks; I almost cry. "Mercy, you know how I've been coming around a lot?"
She nods. "You fixed the oven."
He smiles. "I did…" He pauses, and I can tell this is hard for him too—but for a different reason. He's risking rejection, and that must be scary. I rest my hand on his knee and he continues. "Thereason I want to be around so much is because I care about you and your mom a whole lot. And there's something we want you to know." He pauses and looks at me, and I can see his eyes are wet. He turns back to her. "I'm your dad, Mercy."
