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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

GIVE THANKS

JAX

A fter a long and rowdy night of snacks and board games, I kiss Emma goodnight outside her bedroom door and reluctantly join my daughters in The Bunk Bed Room. They are sound asleep next to each other on the bottom bunk, legs tangled and arms slung over each other. I cover them with a blanket before changing into pajamas and climbing into the top bunk, where I fall asleep and dream of Emma and more nights like this one.

Waking with the memory of her kiss on my lips, I get dressed quickly in the hopes of seeing her at the table for breakfast. Except that everyone is still asleep and the house is quiet in the early morning. I start a pot of coffee and preheat the oven for the pan of cinnamon rolls that Dad stashed in the fridge. Once the oven is heated, I put the pan of cinnamon rolls in and pour myself a cup of coffee.

“I thought I smelled coffee,” a soft voice calls from the hall and I turn to find Emma walking into the kitchen in a sweatshirt that hangs loosely on her frame, and flannel shorts that highlight the long, strong lines of her legs. She greets me with a soft kiss, arms wrapping around my waist…and reaching for the mug behind me.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re more excited about the coffee than you are about a few quiet moments with me” I chuckle as she lets me go, cradling the mug in both hands and inhaling the steam. “I can pour you your own, you know?”

“I’d rather have you,” she says with a smile and quickly corrects herself. “Yours! I’d rather have….you know what, I meant what I said.”

Setting the mug down, Emma presses me against the kitchen counter and draws me in for a soft, tender kiss. My arms snake around her waist and she steps between my feet, deepening the kiss, and suddenly I’m so thankful for the late night we had and the fact that the entire house is still asleep.

“Don’t mind me, just getting some coffee.” Jenna .

Emma breaks the kiss and buries her head against my chest. I turn us so that her back is against the counter in a lousy attempt to shield her. It’s not like Jenna didn’t see us. She obviously did, based on the smirk she’s throwing my direction.

“Morning Jenna,” Emma’s muffled voice rumbles against my chest, and I instinctively tighten my hold on her.

“Hi Emma. Brother, I’m taking my coffee back to my room now. Marcus won’t be up for at least ten minutes, Mom and Dad might be sooner, now that the cinnamon rolls are baking. Carry on. With caution.” Jenna laughs all the way back up the stairs.

“Sorry about that,” I whisper, kissing the top of Emma’s head.

“Sorry about what?” She asks, incredulous. “Your sister already knows about us. Unless you’re trying to hide me from your family, in which case, you shouldn’t have brought me to Thanksgiving.”

“I would never try to hide you,” I pull back and meet her gaze, her eyes dancing with laughter, her smile wide and brilliant. “I love you too much to do that.”

It feels good to say those words out loud.

Finally.

When I heard her on the phone last night, those words nearly brought me to my knees. My heart has been so guarded for so long, but Emma in her own quiet, gentle way, has helped me see that I can love again. I just hadn’t met the right person yet. And as much as I wish I hadn’t nearly knocked her out with a baseball that day, I’m also kind of glad that I did.

The pounding of feet on the stairs gets my attention and I know the girls will be in the kitchen soon, and if I had to guess the rest of the family won’t be far behind. As much as I don’t want to, I unwrap myself from Emma and she reaches for her coffee once more, giving me a soft, knowing smile as Alice and Mackenzie come into the room.

“Looks like we’re having breakfast with a blanket monster today,” Emma smirks at me as Mackenzie wanders in with her blanket over her head. Emma crouches down in front of blanket-wrapped Mackenzie and pulls her into a bear hug. “There’s only one cure for morning monsters.”

“What’s that?” Mackenzie’s response is slightly muffled, but I can hear the laughter in her voice.

“Hot chocolate!” Emma exclaims. “And it just so happens that your grandpa gave me his recipe last night. Want to help me make it?”

My instinct is to warn Emma, tell her to temper her expectations with Morning-Mackenzie, but to my utter surprise, Mackenzie takes her blanket off of her head and lets it drape over her shoulders, leaving her with staticy hair sticking in all directions. A slow smile spreads across her face as she nods at Emma, who asks if Mackenzie can help her find the necessary ingredients for Dad’s homemade hot chocolate. Alice has already staked her claim on a stool at the kitchen island where she waits with a plate in front of her, gaze intent on the oven timer. I take a seat next to her and watch Emma and Mackenzie working together in the kitchen.

Mackenzie and Emma look like they own this kitchen; Emma measures milk while Mackenzie measures out the chocolate chips, and sneaks a few, even slipping a couple to Emma who pops them in her mouth with a conspiratorial smile, as if she and Mackenzie are the only ones in the room.

“Whipped cream?” Emma asks as she keeps an eye on the mixture in the pot on the stove.

“Of course!” Mackenzie responds, stepping to the fridge and pulling out a can of spray whipped cream. She also walks to the pantry and after a bit of searching, comes back with a bottle of sprinkles that she sets in front of her sister with a smile. It’s not long before the rest of the house starts to stir; Mom and Dad wander out of their room, greeting the girls with hugs as Charlie Gehringer settles himself at Emma’s feet. Leigh runs up from the basement and stakes her claim on my lap almost immediately, while her dad makes a beeline to the coffee pot. I remember the days of having little ones like Leigh and Junie, and can certainly sympathize with my brother. It’s not long before the whole house is awake and gathering in the kitchen for breakfast.

“Emma,” Dad takes a sip of his hot chocolate, brow furrowing as he looks at her over the rim of his mug. “Did you do something different to the hot chocolate? This is better than mine!”

“My assistant,” Emma chuckles and wraps an arm around Mackenzie’s shoulders, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to the top of her head, a gesture that makes my heart stutter, “had a heavy hand with the chocolate chips.”

Mackenzie giggles as Emma continues to hold her close, and I excuse myself from the table, taking my coffee and silently slipping out the front door and into the chilly November air. Sitting down on the front steps, I sip my coffee and try to ignore the pang of longing in my chest. Longing for a mother for my girls. A partner to spend the rest of my life with. I know, I know, that Emma is leaving soon for Los Angeles and whatever comes next in her career. I can’t bear the thought of her leaving me, but it’s even harder to think about her leaving the girls.

She’s leaving, yes, but this isn't the same. I have to remind myself that Emma isn’t Angela. Emma isn’t my wife, she isn’t their mother, but watching her this morning with Mackenzie makes me wish…

No.

I can’t go there.

I can’t put those expectations on Emma, or on our relationship. It’s not fair to either of us, or the girls, if I start making this out to be more than it is. More than it can be. Watching her with Mackenzie this morning was like something out of a dream, and Mackenzie doesn’t warm up to people that easily, but she’s taken to Emma in a way I never would have expected. Alice, on the other hand, has never met a stranger, but deeper connections like the one I see forming with Emma are more rare.

An unfamiliar car pulls into my parents’ driveway, pulling my attention away from my thoughts – thankfully – and to the young woman climbing out of the car. Her hair is the same shade as Emma’s but instead of being long and wavy like Emma’s, it’s pin straight and cut short, hanging just to her shoulders. She steps out of the car and surveys the house and surroundings with a smile and a shake of her head before her eyes land on me with a quirked brow. She opens the back door or the car and comes out with a covered dish.

“Are you a Hutchinson?” She asks, her voice lilting and melodic, and not unlike Emma’s.

“I am,” I call with a small chuckle. “If you’re looking for Thanksgiving dinner, you’re in the right place.”

“Actually, I’m looking for my sister.”

“You must be Molly,” I stand and meet her at the bottom of the steps, holding out my hand for a handshake which she immediately returns. “I’m Jax.”

Her eyes snap to mine and a smirk tilts her lips, and I briefly wonder what Emma’s told her about me, but I’m not going to worry about that. I know that Emma has been looking forward to seeing her sister, and I’m glad that we’re able to give them both a place to spend the holiday while their parents are traveling.

“So you’re the hot doctor,” her eyes dance as she looks me up and down, giving me a small nod of approval. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too” I laugh as we walk up the steps, opening the front door and ushering her in, taking the dish from her hands while she removes her coat. “Your sister has been looking forward to seeing you. Go straight down this hallway to the dining room.”

I hang back as Molly slips out of her shoes before heading toward the dining room where I can hear Emma’s laughter mingled with the sound of my family. I follow Molly at a distance, yet Emma’s gaze finds me first and for a brief second she looks like she wants to ask me a question and then realization dawns.

“Sister!” Emma jumps out of her seat and rushes around the table, arms open wide as she collides with Molly.

“Sister!” Molly squeals, returning Emma’s embrace. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Emma’s eyes glitter with tears as she breaks the hug and holds her sister at arms length, looking her over from head to toe. “I’m so glad you came. Let me introduce you to everyone.”

Emma takes her sister’s hand and tugs her closer to the table, taking the time to introduce each member of my family by name.

“And this is Jax,” Emma turns to me, her soft smile just for me. “I’ve been excited for you two to meet.”

“I’m excited to be here,” Molly says, still clutching the dish in her hand. “It’s nice to finally meet the people I’ve been hearing so much about.”

“What did you bring?” I ask, nodding at the dish in my hands.

“Oh! That is our mom’s homemade macaroni and cheese. It needs to be baked, I wasn’t sure if you had the oven space or not, so I can run it over to Emma’s if I need to.”

“No need,” Mom stands up from the table and greets Molly with a warm hug. “We can run it right down the road to James and Mandy.”

“And by we, she means me. ” I laugh, “I can take a hint.”

“I’ll go with you,” Molly insists, giving me a look that tells me not to bother arguing with her, so I don’t. Molly follows me out of the house and down the road to James and Mandy’s; she’s quiet the whole way which isn’t what I expected. I expected an inquisition or stories about her sister. I expected a question about intentions, but instead she walks quietly beside me.

We walk up the deck at James and Mandy’s where I quickly knock on the door before letting myself and Molly in. I introduce Molly who gives Mandy baking instructions for the Mac and Cheese and then the two quickly fall into a discussion about trades and free agent signings that are taking place in the baseball world. Mandy sends us back with a relish tray and a bowl of cranberry sauce, and once we’re back on the road to Mom and Dad’s Molly starts talking.

“I want her to know that I’ll be okay with whatever she chooses,” Molly says without preamble. “There’s a part of me that thinks she sticks around so that if I fail I’ll have a safety net.”

“Emma doesn’t think you’re going to fail,” I tell her honestly. “Molly, your sister is incredibly proud of you, I know that she wants you to succeed, and I know that if you set your mind to it, you will.”

“You don’t even know me yet, Doc,” Molly quips.

“You’re right, I don’t. At least not for myself. But I do know you through the eyes of your sister. And I know that your sister thinks the world of you, but beyond that, your sister believes in you. If you fail – and that’s a big if, coming from someone who doesn’t know you yet but has lots of experience as an older sibling – your sister will be here for you. She will be wherever you need her to be and I can almost guarantee that she’d support you no matter what.”

“I know she would,” Molly’s voice is thick with emotion. “She’s been protecting me my whole life, Jax, I don’t want her to feel like she has to give up on her dream because of me.”

“Funny thing about dreams,” I try my best to keep the bitterness at bay, but sometimes old wounds open up again. “Sometimes life forces us to find a new one.”

“Seems we all know a little something about that, don’t we?”

“Sure do.”

“I worry about her, that’s all. It’s my job, as her little sister.”

“What do you worry about?” I ask, my big brother instincts kicking in.

“Who’s protecting her while she’s protecting everyone else?”

A picture of six year old Emma pops into my brain. Six year old Emma with hair in braids, and enough energy to power a city. Six year old Emma with a little soccer ball at her feet and a book in her hand, misunderstood because of a diagnosis that’s still years away. Six year old Emma putting herself between her sister and their biological mother. Six year old Emma protecting her sister, even then.

Grown-up Emma would say that she doesn’t need protecting; she’d insist that no one needs to worry about her, in fact she’d hate hearing that Molly is worried about her; little sisters aren’t supposed to worry.

“I guess that’s up to you and me then, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Molly is thoughtful for a moment, her eyes searching mine. “I guess it is. But how do you protect someone who doesn’t think she needs it?”

“I have experience with a stubborn sister,” I laugh, and Molly seems to loosen up a bit. “You just love her. Sometimes that’s all the protection they need, someone to love them as they are. For who they are.”

“You realize you just told me you love my sister right? And part of my job as her younger sister is to vet you to make sure you’re good enough for her.”

“So…” I stuff my hands in my pockets and scuff my foot along the road. “Do I pass?”

“The jury’s still out,” Molly’s eyes glitter with laughter and I bark out a laugh as we approach the house. Holding the door open for Molly, she steps past me with a smile that speaks volumes. I watch as Molly and Emma wrap their arms around each other, my gaze flicking to my own daughters still at the table sipping more hot cocoa, and I’m thankful. Thankful for Maureen Mitchell taking care of Emma and Molly as if they were her own. And even more thankful for Emma sweeping into our lives and loving my girls the way that she does.

“Miss Emma,” Mackenzie calls from her perch at the table, her arm slung around her sister, the pair looking an awful lot like Emma and Molly. “Could you and Miss Molly help us get dressed up today?”

Emma’s gaze meets mine with a silent question. She’s always cautious with the girls, never wanting to overstep. I give her a small, encouraging nod – it’s my way of saying that I’m okay with her doing these kinds of… maternal …things with my girls.

“We’d love to!” Emma replies to Mackenzie and my girls take off up the stairs with Emma and Molly in tow and Charlie on their heels, leaving me in a room filled with family members all grinning at me from their various seats around the lower level of the house.

“Doesn’t someone around here have a turkey to cook?” I ask, trying to shift attention away from the scene that just unfolded.

“Yes.” Mom stands and begins to read from the checklist in her hand. “Jake, you’re on turkey duty, please try not to set anything on fire. Jenna, supervise your brother. Once James and Mandy are here, I’ll send him out to help as well.”

Jake, who only just learned how to cook a few years ago, has decided that he is going to deep fry the turkey this year. According to Penelope, he’s been practicing, and as far as we’re all aware there’s been no trips to the ER. And we’re hoping it stays that way.

“Marcus, how are the pies?”

“Done. Baked them all yesterday.” Mom nods and crosses out an item on her list.

“Potatoes?”

“Ready to be mashed,” Penelope answers. “Sweet and russets.”

“Perfect. Casserole?”

“Being baked at James and Mandy’s” I inform Mom, “along with the mac and cheese that Molly brought. And, Mandy sent us back with cranberry sauce and the relish tray.”

“Good,” Mom crosses a few more items off her list. “The rest of the dishes can go in the ovens here and we’ll be all set. Kick-off is at twelve thirty, we eat at one.”

“Why do you bother letting us have the game on at dinner?” I ask, not even trying to hide my sass. “They’re just going to lose again.”

“Tradition,” Mom says with a smile, and she’s right – it is a Hutchinson tradition, from as far back as our days in Michigan. Detroit’s football team plays on Thanksgiving Day, and we watch while we eat our meal. More often than not, they lose, but like I told Alice not too long ago, we love our losing teams, and no one loves them more than Claire Hutchinson. “Have faith in her, Jax. She just might surprise you.”

She’s swept out of the room before I have a chance to address what she just said, because suddenly we’re not talking about football anymore.