I nod, although my goal right now is to distract her enough that I won’t have to provide any answers at all. I’d rather ease into that conversation. Still, she gets up and goes to grab her clothes.
I’m really not in favor of her putting on anything at all, but I toss back the blankets and grab a casual button-down shirt from my drawers before she can start trying to squeeze back into the dress she was wearing.
“Here.” I hold the shirt out to her. “This’ll be easier to get on.”
She takes it and shrugs into it, her gaze softening as it fixes on me. I’m naked, too, of course, and she seems to be enjoying the view as much as I’m enjoying the view on my end of the equation. I grab a shirt for myself and step back into my dress trousers from the party. Good enough. My shirt covers her nearly to mid-thigh, so she’s mostly decent. Not that I want her that way, but if we’re going to talk, it might be best if I’m not distracted. I take her hand and lead her downstairs to the kitchen.
#
Fifteen minutes later we’re sitting at the kitchen bar with cups of coffee. Hers is almost half milk; mine’s black. She’s staring at hers, turning the cup. I get the feeling she’s calmed down some—for real this time.
“…So I took the bread down to the nursing home, like I was telling you, and they made grilled cheese with it. Put little pictures on it with these special, I don’t know, spatulas or something. Everybody loved it. Especially Mom. She did that kind of shit for us when we were kids. Made mouse pancakes, cut our sandwiches into stars, that kind of thing. Never knew what I was going to find in my lunch box.”
Sarah smiles. It’s good to see. She’s easing up as I tell the story; it’s giving her something else to think about, I guess.
“How long has your mom been there?”
“A couple of months. My dad got sick about a year ago—cancer. He was getting worse and worse, and she was having problems with arthritis, a couple other things. She didn’t want to leave him, but we decided it’d be better for both of them to get some professional care. Then Dad died.”
“How long ago?”
“Couple weeks ago.”
“Oh.” She goes quiet for a few seconds. “I’m so sorry.”
I shrug. “He was in a lot of pain.”
“Still.” Quietly she sips at her coffee. “It’s nice you take care of your mom.”
“I do what I can.” My own coffee is getting a little cold, and it’s bitter. I normally drink it black, but tonight it doesn’t taste quite right for some reason. “That’s what family does, you know? You take care of each other. She’s my mom—he was my dad. I did everything I could. Still doing what I can, you know?”
She nods. “Not everybody feels that way about family. Some people just…toss them aside.”
I get a feeling she might be talking about herself—about her own family—but I’m not going to press right now. “Too many. So when Dad died, I got to thinking a lot about family. My family. I’ve got a brother, a sister, but no wife, no kids. I’m not so close to my siblings. We kind of…grew apart. So who’s going to be there for me when my time comes? Who’s going to take care of me? Who’s going to carry on my name?” I shrug. “You know, you think about that kind of thing.”
“Sure.” A frown develops between her eyebrows. I can tell she’s probably wondering what in the world all this has to do with her. Fact is, it has everything to do with her.
So…it’s time to lower the boom. “That’s what I want from you.”
I can tell it doesn’t soak in right away. Her frown deepens; her hand tightens on the handle of her coffee mug. “What?” she finally says.
“That’s what I want from you.”
“Mouse pancakes? Grilled cheese sandwiches with pictures on them?”
That gets a chuckle out of me. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that she doesn’t get it right away. I suppose it’s a bit of a jump in logic. “No.” I reach out and touch her face gently, tracing my fingers down the curve of her cheek. She’s lovely. Beyond lovely. Good genes. “Family.”
Shaking her head, she gives me that same I-have-no-idea-what-you’re-talking-about look. “I don’t understand.”
I lean closer to her, right into her personal space. She holds her ground, though I can tell she’s on edge now. She doesn’t know what to expect. “I don’t want my name to die. I want kids, a family, a legacy. You’re going to give me that.”
“Wait… What?”