Page 131 of Safe With You

“Yes.”

“For Sunday dinner?”

“That’s usually when people eat dessert.”

“Don’t get smart.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“Because I made peach cobbler.”

I stopped.

“You didn’t tell me that.”

“You didn’t ask.”

I stared at her. “Why would I ask?”

Mama folded the box closed again. “Well, we’ll eat both.”

“Exactly.”

“Could’ve saved your money.”

“And if I hadn’t brought anything, you would’ve asked why I came over here empty-handed.”

“That is not true.”

Daddy’s voice carried through the open window.

“Yes, it is.”

Mama’s head snapped toward the sink. “Ain’t nobody talking to you!”

I bent forward laughing.

“I heard that mess,” Daddy called back.

“Then tend to them ribs!”

I was still smiling when Mama turned back to the stove.

Some things changed.

Apparently, some things didn’t.

And standing in my parents’ kitchen with two peach cobblers, my daddy arguing through a window, and Mama already finding something for me to do, I couldn’t remember why we’d ever stopped doing this every Sunday.

Mama found that something for me approximately thirty seconds later.

“Since you standing there, get the tea out and put some ice in the glasses.”

I pushed myself upright with a sigh dramatic enough to make her glance over her shoulder.

“Yes, ma’am.”

I opened the refrigerator and pulled out the pitcher.