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“I was going to get some juice when I noticed the flames out the window,” I said, shivering. “Would you like some cocoa?”
“Yeah, let me help.” Ari pulled out a pan while I got the cocoa, milk, sugar, and marshmallows. I measured out the sugar and cocoa, then whisked it into the milk and set the pan over the flame.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Heartbroken. I have insurance on the place, of course, but I can’t imagine what happened. I could handle leaving it because I’m next door and somebody I care about was taking over. But what if it burns to the ground?” I gave her a mournful look. “All my memories…”
“No, don’t go down that path. You’ll always have your memories.” She frowned, hopping onto a stool by the center island. Ari was what they euphemistically called “petite”…meaning she was barely one hundred and five pounds soaking wet, and she stood five-two, seven inches shorter than me. Yet, as opposite as we were, we had been besties since before high school.
“I’m trying to think if I fucked up in any way—did I leave something on that sparked and caught fire? If it’s my fault, you know I’ll take responsibility—”
“Shush,” I said. “We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. You’re right. Let’s not borrow trouble. Let’s make cocoa and wait to see what the firefighters say.” I finished heating up the cocoa and poured three cups. Ari took one out to Killian, who had slipped on his parka and was sitting on the bench on the side porch. When she returned, we carried our mugs and a bag of cookies over to the dining room table, where we could still see the flames crackling away through the window.
I was trying to take my mind off what was happening. “Any more news about Emily and LaKirk?”
“The lawyer called today. The children will be brought up from the city next week, and we’ll sign the guardianship papers then.” She hesitated and I could tell she wanted to say something.
“What is it?”
“You promise you won’t tell Meagan?”
“Of course. Pinkie swear,” I said, holding out my finger.
“Pinkie swear,” she murmured, looping her finger around mine. “Okay, here’s the thing. I’m okay with this, really. It’s not what I expected, but we wanted children. It’s just…we’re not ready. If Meagan got pregnant, we’d have nine months to prepare and make the mental adaptations. And then we’d have a newborn—a clean slate.” She looked so embarrassed that I reached out and took her hand in mine.
“But these two are already…molded. They have—or rather,had—parents. And they’re going to be traumatized by that loss.” I understood why she was upset, though I thought she and Meagan would be fine. But right now, Ari was scared.
“Right. We’ll have to help them through this loss. We’ll have to help them to accept it, then accept us as their new family. Are they going to resent us? Will they understand what it means—what death means? That their parents aren’t ever coming back? It’s going to be so exhausting, at least emotionally—and I suspect, physically as well, since they’re so young. Are we emotionally equipped to take them on?” Ari looked more frightened than I had ever seen her.
“What are you afraid might happen?” I sipped my cocoa, the mini marshmallows melting in it. As I picked up a chocolate chip cookie, I gave thanks to the sugar gods for the comfort it brought into our lives. Sugar wasn’t healthy, and I knew better than try to rationalize my need for it, but right now I didn’t give a fuck. We were all under stress and if a mug of cocoa with marshmallows and a plate of cookies made us feel better, then fine.
Ari leaned back in her chair. “I guess… I’m afraid we’ll screw them up even worse than losing their parents has. I’m afraid they’ll resent us. I’m afraid that I won’t be able to love them because this wasn’t my choice.” She whispered the last, her gaze downcast.
“I think that reason is the biggest, don’t you?” I could hear it in her voice. She was terrified she wouldn’t be able to love the children, andthatwould destroy her.
Tears flecked her eyelashes. After a moment, she leaned forward. “I’m not sure what to do. What do I do, January?”
I worried my lip, not sure whether she needed a hug or a buck-up speech. But given our history together, I opted for the latter. “Ari, you and I both know you love children. And they’re so young, you’ll be able to help them adapt. I can’t imagine that you won’t fall madly in love with them—that a month after they get here, you won’t be able to imagine life without them.”
“You think so?” she asked, finishing off her cocoa.
“I believe so,” I said. “I believe inyou. You’ve always wanted children. Here’s your chance to mother two children who have had their world ripped out from beneath them.”
She sniffed, nodding. “I can’t imagine how hard it must be. Do they even understand why their mother and father won’t be coming home? Are they still waiting for them?”
“You see—youunderstandthese things. You and Meagan will know how to handle it. And what youdon’tknow, you’ll figure out together.” I squeezed her hand. “I doubt these babies will resent you. It’s not like teenagers who are already raging at the world.”
She lifted my hand to her lips and kissed it. “What would I do without my bestie?”
“I have no idea and I don’t want to find out,” I said. A few moments later, I found myself over at the window, staring out. From where we were, even through the walls, I could hear the firefighters shouting next door. The flames must have been controlled by now because I couldn’t see them anymore, but the smell of smoke was so strong it was seeping through from outside.
“Seriously, what do you think happened?” Ari asked, joining me at the window.
“I don’t know,” I said, leaning on the window sash. “I have no idea.”
Killian stomped through the door, kicking the snow off his shoes. Xi and Klaus, who had joined us in the kitchen, startled and scampered at the noise.
“I think they’ve put the fire out. The fire marshal will be over in a moment to talk to us.” He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on a hook by the door. “Can I get a cookie?”
