Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Thanksgiving morning Garrick got up early to make the Waldorf salad.
He’d gone to the grocery store the day before, shocked at the crowds and the long lines to check out.
But he’d wanted to have all their traditions in place.
He had ingredients for the salad and the blueberry pancakes he always made on the special morning.
He’d also bought yellow roses—Joylyn’s favorite—for the kitchen table.
He knew her plans were to return to Phoenix as soon as Chandler was home, so the week before Christmas she would be leaving.
This was the only holiday he was going to get to spend with his little girl.
By seven the salad was assembled and in the refrigerator, ready to take over to Wynn’s later that afternoon. He had batter ready for the pancakes and coffee brewing. As he wasn’t sure what time Joylyn would get up, he busied himself going online to study patterns for bassinets.
The idea had come to him a couple of days ago.
He wanted to give his daughter something special for her baby.
Joylyn and Chandler had a gift registry and he’d looked over that.
There were a lot of great items, but rather than buy any of them, he was going to give the new parents money to use as they liked.
But he also wanted to give them something personal.
He’d always enjoyed woodworking and had made a few pieces of furniture.
From what he’d learned online, a simple wooden bassinet wouldn’t be too difficult a project.
If he got started this weekend, he should have it finished in plenty of time.
A little before eight, Joylyn wandered into the kitchen.
“Morning,” he said cheerfully. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Happy Thanksgiving,” she said, her expression neutral.
He tried to find comfort in the fact that she wasn’t glaring at him. Progress. Of course it was still early—there was plenty of time for her to get pissed at him for no reason.
He poured her juice. “Do you want bacon with your blueberry pancakes?”
“Yes, please.”
“How are you feeling?” he asked as she took a seat at the table.
“Awful, but regular awful. Nothing worse.”
“Counting the days?” he asked sympathetically.
She rubbed her belly. “Being pregnant is harder than I thought it would be.”
He knew her doctor’s appointment the previous day had gone well, so there were no physical concerns about the baby, but just looking at her belly and the way her back bowed when she walked made him uncomfortable. He couldn’t imagine having to live it.
He was just about to pour the batter on the griddle when her phone chimed. Joylyn glanced at the screen before smiling at him.
“It’s Chandler. Can we hold off on breakfast?”
“Sure,” he said, even though he was already talking to her retreating back. She ran down the hall and disappeared into her room.
He stood at the counter, not sure if he should make his own breakfast or wait for her to come back. He figured there was a fifty-fifty chance of him picking wrong regardless, but he erred on the side of waiting. It seemed more polite.
As Joylyn took her call, Garrick carried his coffee out to the living room and stared out the big front window. He supposed he should be happy that things weren’t worse between them, but he sure wished they were better. He missed his little girl.
Okay, Joylyn wasn’t a child anymore, but it wasn’t about her being small.
It was about them being close. He loved her and wanted the best for her, but he also wanted them to be friends.
He wanted to know what she was thinking and feeling.
He wanted to be a part of her life—only they’d been apart for so long, he didn’t know how to get them connected again.
About fifteen minutes later, she came out of the bedroom. Her eyes were red and swollen and her face was wet with tears.
“I hate this,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “Being apart from him like this. He’s so far away. I miss him and I can’t do this without him.”
He instinctively reached for her. She jerked free of his touch.
“You can’t make this better,” she screamed. “You can’t. Just leave me alone. I don’t want to see you or talk to you. I don’t want to have Thanksgiving with you. Leave me alone. Just leave me alone!”
She returned to her bedroom and slammed her door shut.
Even from the living room he could hear the sound of her sobs.
He stood where he was and had absolutely no idea what to do next.
Finally he walked into the kitchen and dumped the batter into the trash before changing into sweatpants and a T-shirt and heading out for a run.
***
Wynn looked around the kitchen, double-checking that she had everything handled.
The turkey was in the oven and three pies were cooling on a rack.
She had the casserole dish with dressing ready to go in the oven when the turkey came out.
She and Hunter had already watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, and now her son was curled up in the family room, watching the football game and reading comic books.
She crossed to the dining room to make sure that was ready to go, as well.
She’d set the table earlier that morning, using her good china and the seasonal table linens.
Instead of flowers as a centerpiece, she had small gourds running down the center of the table, along with red and orange leaves, a few pinecones and several beautiful seashells she added for texture.
The largest shell she placed in the center was red, but the rest were cream and brown and pink, blending with the autumn colors of the linens.
The side table was set up to serve as the buffet.
Wynn had all her serving pieces out to make sure there was room for everything.
Renee and Jasper were bringing a sweet potato casserole and Drew, Silver and their daughter Autumn had offered to provide green beans and fresh rolls that Silver and Autumn were making fresh this morning.
Garrick, of course, had his Waldorf salad.
She liked the idea of a full table at the holidays. Friends that were her family. It gave her a sense of belonging and showed Hunter the importance of community.
She heard her front door open.
“It’s me,” Garrick called.
Her body reacted with a bit of a tingle and a happy lift to her heart. She smiled as she met him in the living room.
“Hi,” she said, stepping into his arms for a hug and a kiss. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Happy Thanksgiving.” He held out a foil-covered bowl. “I bought some wine,” he added. “I left it on the porch. Let me go grab it.”
She took the salad into the kitchen and found space for it in the crowded refrigerator.
Holiday meals were always a challenge. She had a countertop convection oven she’d bought at a garage sale a few years back.
It was plugged in and sitting on the kitchen table, ready to heat any extra sides that showed up.
Garrick joined her, a bottle of white wine in each hand. “They’re already chilled.”
She looked at him, noting the tension in his jaw. “What happened?” As Joylyn wasn’t with him, she could make a couple of guesses but figured she should hear the whole story from him.
“She’s not coming.”
“Why?”
“I have no idea.” He put the wine on the counter.
“She was okay when she got up this morning. Not superfriendly, but not hostile. Then she got a call from Chandler. After that she was crying and screaming and didn’t want anything to do with me.
She wouldn’t eat breakfast or talk to me.
When I asked her to come over just for a few minutes, she screamed at me to go away. ”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. I don’t know what’s wrong, and I don’t know how to get through to her.”
“You need to talk to her.”
“I’ve tried.”
She looked at him without speaking.
“You’re saying try harder?” he asked.
“I am.” She stepped close and rested her hands on his waist. He pulled her close and hugged her.
“Kids are difficult,” he murmured. “Even when they’re grown up.”
“Yes, they are. But you love her, Garrick. You’ve got to keep pushing until she lets you in.”
“I know. I’m the parent and all that, but I have to tell you, the rejection is tough. Sometimes she looks at me with such loathing, I wonder if she wishes I was dead.”
“She doesn’t. You’re her dad.”
The doorbell rang and they stepped apart. Wynn let in Jasper and Renee, along with their dog Koda. The old guy sat politely until Hunter came running.
“Koda! Happy Thanksgiving.”
The dog’s tail wagged as Hunter collapsed to the floor and wrapped his arms around the dog. Then Hunter glanced up at Jasper and Renee.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” he told them. “Thanks for bringing your dog.”
Renee glanced between them. “You really should think about getting—”
Wynn shook her head. “Don’t even say it. I don’t need one more thing right now.”
Jasper shook hands with Garrick, then kissed Wynn’s cheek and handed her a ceramic frog container filled with a leafy plant. “Not for the table. I know you do your own thing for that. Maybe for the windowsill.” He started for the family room in the back. “Got the game on, Hunter?”
“Uh-huh. It’s tied at seven.”
“Come on, Garrick. Football.”
Garrick glanced at Wynn. “The age-old division of the sexes. Let me know when you want me to pull the turkey out of the oven.”
“I will,” she murmured, carrying the plant into the kitchen.
Renee trailed after her, then put the sweet potato casserole on the counter. “He does know this isn’t your first Thanksgiving, right? That you managed to wash, season and stuff the turkey, not to mention get it in the oven, all by yourself.”
“He’s trying to be helpful.”
“I know, but they’re so unaware of what we do in a day.”