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My angel.
Epilogue
Vivian
Thanksgiving wasn’t this big of a deal for me. Growing up, it was just another day. Sometimes I had an extra helping of pudding after dinner, but that was about it. There wasn’t a whole lot to be thankful for as a foster kid. But now, I had a million and one reasons to be thankful.
Amelia was asleep in my arms. She was a deep sleeper, sucking quietly on her thumb while totally unaware of the rambunctious goings on at the Phillips house. Jesse was holding Adam, who —unlike his sister— rarely ever slept at all. My son was so alert and curious, always looking about with his big eyes to take in his surroundings. I figured that was something he got from his father.
I could see Jesse in the kitchen with Theo and Devin, baby Adam reaching up with his tiny hand to tug at his father’s beard. It wasn’t a moustache like I’d wanted. In fact, the beard was much better. It tickled when he kissed me, and it gave Adam something to play with.
Ava, Molly, and I were in the living room. The turkey was still in the oven, not quite done, so we had some time to kill. The TV was on, switched to some weird contest show featuring child geniuses.
“What kind of parent would let their children go on a show like this?” I wondered aloud. “Can’t kids just be kids?”
Molly shrugged. “I mean, the prize for first place is ten grand. Wouldn’t you want Amelia up there if she could win?”
I pressed my lips into a thin line. “No. Not unlessshewanted to be up there. But even then, it feels icky putting your children out there for the world to see.”
Ava nodded. “I know what you mean. It feels sort of exploitive.”
“Yes, exactly!”
Amelia whimpered, stirring from her slumber. She sobbed, breaking out into choked off cries. I patted her on the back and bounced her gently, hushing her. “It’s okay, sunshine. I’m here.”
“Do you think she needs a diaper change?” Molly asked.
“No, that sounds like anI’m hungrycry,” Ava said.
I retrieved Amelia’s milk bottle from off the coffee table in front of me and brought it to her lips. She immediately took to it, eating hungrily. “You were right.”
“Huh,” Molly said. “I feel kind of left out. Maybe I need to find my own silver fox and have a baby so I can join the club.”
Cory, who’d been playing with Cassie on the other side of the room, looked up. “What doessilver foxmean?”
Molly made a strangled sound, something between a laugh and a choke. “Nothing, nothing,” she said dismissively.
“I don’t think you’re allowed to keep foxes as pets,” Cory continued.
Ava and I laughed. Molly’s face was bright red.
Luckily, Wally’s sudden arrival rescued her from Cory’s innocent remarks. He came in through the front door with heavy grocery bags hanging from both his arms. “Sorry that took so long,” he said. “It was nuts at the grocery store.”
“Of course it was,” I said. “Everybody’s probably out trying to do last-minute shopping.”
“I’ll say. I almost had to wrestle a little old lady for the last turnip they had.”
“Did you get it, though?” Molly asked, walking over quickly to help with the bags.
Wally fished the turnip in question out, holding it up like some sort of trophy. “I did. Almost lost an eye, but you know. That’s what Thanksgiving’s all about.”
I frowned. “Grocery store fights?”
“No, the perfect ingredients for dinner.”
“I thought it was about being thankful,” Ava teased.
“Everybody go wash up,” Wally said. “I’ll have the rest of dinner ready in five.”
