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“It makes the most sense to be here… with my family.”
“OH, JOHN…”she sobbed, throwing her arms around his neck, and kissing him emphatically. He had no idea how worried she’d been, and the thought of her going through so many changes with her body, her life, her work… well, all of her world, was about to be impacted by their miracle.
It didn’t sit right with him that he could possibly be on the other side of the globe, helpless to aid her during a time of need. Some things were worth more than a pension or a paycheck… and his Emily was priceless.
There was no happiness, no life, and no future without her in it – so it didn’t even bother him to make plans to leave.
No, he was ready for his next steps… as a father and husband.
“I love you,” he whispered against her hair as she buried her face against his neck, still hugging him and hiccupping. “I love you so very much, my bride.”
* * *
Rising early the next morning,John slipped out of the bed and quietly shut the door behind him, allowing her to sleep. He stepped into the kitchen and opened a can of biscuits, putting them on a baking sheet, before placing them in the oven.
Grabbing the roll of sausage in the fridge, he smiled. He was going to be the ‘mister with the whisker’ once again, making his grandma’s gravy for Emily.
He browned the sausage in the skillet and added a half a stick of butter instead of Crisco or bacon fat. His grandma had a can of drippings that was her ‘go-to,’ but looking back now, he wasn’t sure just how sanitary that was, and butter worked just fine…
Melting the butter, he whistled softly to himself, mentally seeing that ‘bawling pot’she would have on her potbelly stove. She always had him hold it with a folded rag, so it didn’t burn his hand, yet as much as things changed? They stayed the same, too. He was holding the skillet handle with a folded rag from a drawer beside the sink.
Grabbing a spoon, he ladled several spoonfuls of flour into the skillet – adding salt and pepper. Smelling the biscuits, he peered inside and removed the baking sheet, then poured milk in the hot skillet, measuring by eye just like his grandma taught him.
“Something smells amazing,” Emily said sleepily, padding into the kitchen to slip her hands around his waist, hugging him. “Morning, my love…”
“Good morning,mon Coeur…” he breathed, feeling his heart contract with happiness, realizing he could have this life with her – and how perfect it was. “Watch your arms, Em. I’m making gravy and it’s going to start bubbling shortly as it thickens. I don’t want you to get burnt.”
“Do you mind if I watch?”
“Not at all…” he smiled, glancing at her. “I used to watch my grandma, and this is how she made it when I was little. She used to tell me I was the ‘mister with the whisker’because I would stir the pot.”
“You’re still the ‘mister with the whisker’… and they are all over your beautiful face,” Emily teased lovingly, scratching his chin playfully.
“You’ll have to show me - and our little one someday – just how your grandma made it…”
“I’d love to,” he said huskily, realizing that he could indeed share the beautiful memories with her and his family – and bury the ones that hurt, like he’d done so long ago.
“Where’s the plates?”
“Here, let me get them,” Emily volunteered, moving to get two plates from a nearby cabinet as the gravy started to bubble thickly.
He reached for the knob and turned off the heat to the stove before plucking two biscuits and putting them on one plate… and loading three on the other one.
Emily promptly reached over and grabbed another biscuit, causing him to chuckle in amusement. He loved that his girl could eat – he just didn’t know where she put it sometimes.
She quickly opened a drawer and pulled out a plastic spoon, handing it to John. He took it and began spooning the sausage gravy over the biscuits, setting down the skillet.
Stepping around Emily, John poured two cups of coffee for them as she gathered up the two plates, putting forks on each one.
“I like this…” he admitted.
“I sincerely love it,” she amended, smiling at him. “C’mon, and let’s get comfy on the couch to eat.”
They sat there watching the news for a little while, eating, and talking… and he realized that he could certainly see himself in their home, being a part of this world, and celebrating his blessings here, with her.
* * *
John hatedthat his visit was over before it even really started, but the whole intention was to come home and see Emily… and he’d done that, but it would never be enough.
