Winnie sat cross-legged in the center of everything with Billie draped across her lap like a cat. Winnie fit so naturally with Billie curled instinctively against her.
It was like she’d always belonged, like my kids had been waiting for her.
At one point CJ looked up from his notebook. “Hey Mom,” he said softly toward the screen where another old video paused on Jade laughing. “I’m becoming an author now.”
Winnie’s eyes flicked toward him.
He smiled a little shyly. “I think I’m actually good at it.”
“You are,” Bianca said without hesitation.
CJ blinked at her, his face suspiciously emotional. To protect himself, naturally, he immediately ruined the moment. “My future biographers will note this support.”
Billie lifted her head weakly from Winnie’s lap. “Momma, I’m becoming a lizard scientist.”
“Herpetologist,” Bianca corrected automatically.
Billie narrowed her eyes. “You just made that word up.”
“It’s literally real.”
Billie rolled her eyes. “I reject it.”
“You can still study lizards without sounding like a supervillain,” Winnie said.
Billie relaxed instantly. “Excellent.”
Eventually Bianca lost her battle with consciousness entirely. Her head tipped sideways against my shoulder. A few minutes later, CJ’s pen dropped from his hand, and he dropped his head onto his notebook. And Billie fully starfished herself across Winnie without warning, one sticky hand still clutching a gummy worm. Winnie looked down at her with a hopelessly tender expression.
This was the happiest Mother’s Day we’d had since Jade died. We didn’t miss her any less. And our grief certainly hadn’t disappeared. It was, however, the first Mother’s Day that the day hadn’t revolved entirely around surviving the pain.
There had been laughter, joy, love, and life today. And Winnie had made that possible. Loving her was becoming unavoidable.
A truly terrifying thought crept into my brain.
If we lost Winnie now, it would destroy us.
By the time the kids were finally in bed, the house had fallen into that strange kind of silence that only comes after a very full day.
I’d brought the projector inside. Blankets remained half-folded over the backs of chairs. Someone had left gummy worms on the coffee table. The lanterns still swayed softly beneath the pavilion outside the kitchen windows while the last of the fireflies drifted through the garden.
I found Winnie in the kitchen, steeping tea.
She’d removed her sunglasses from her head at some point, leaving them folded neatly beside the kettle. Without them, her face looked softer somehow. More open. Her red hair spilled over one shoulder, slightly mussed from Billie climbing all over her for most of the evening.
She glanced up when I entered. “All asleep?”
“Yep. They’re completely out.”
“Billie informed me she was entering hibernation.” Winnie poured tea into two mugs before sliding one toward me. Steam curled upward carrying the scent of chamomile and something floral I couldn’t place.
“You always travel with tea,” I observed.
“I also travel with emergency peppermints, spare hairpins, bandages, tiny scissors, and approximately seventeen items that would alarm airport security.”
Laughing, I leaned against the counter across from her.
Winnie wrapped both hands around her mug. “You did very well today.”
