CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN #2
When we finally sat down to eat, Casey insisted on sitting between her grandmothers, her face glowing with pride at having everyone together. Easton sat across from me, and when our eyes met, he mouthed, "You okay?"
I nodded, and I meant it. The nervousness had faded, replaced by something warmer. This was family. Messy and complicated and absolutely right.
"Before we eat," my father said, raising his glass, "I'd like to say something."
Everyone quieted, glasses raised.
"This year has been…" He paused, his eyes moving around the table. "Unexpected. But watching Casey get to know her father, watching this family come together… It's been a gift. So, here's to new beginnings. To family. And to the best Thanksgiving yet."
"To family," everyone echoed, glasses clinking.
Later, after the dishes were done and the leftover turkey was safely stored, I stood in the kitchen doorway watching Casey on the couch between my mother and Margaret, her face flushed with excitement as she showed them her school science project.
"She's really enjoying herself." My father's voice came from behind me. "Having Easton in her life has been good for her."
I turned to see Dad leaning against the counter, his expression thoughtful as he watched the scene in the living room.
"It has," I agreed, unable to deny the evidence. Casey had blossomed in the weeks since Easton became a permanent fixture in our lives, her confidence growing with each father-daughter hockey practice, each bedtime story read in his deep, patient voice.
"And for you?" Dad asked, his eyes shifting to study my face. "Has it been good for you, too?"
The question's directness caught me off guard. My father had always been more comfortable discussing hockey strategies than emotions.
"It's complicated," I said, though the words felt inadequate for what had developed between Easton and me. Living together, raising Casey, navigating our attraction and shared history while building something new was a complex dance.
Dad snorted softly. "Life usually is. But I haven't seen you this happy in years, Palisade. Maybe ever."
"Your father's right," my mother said, joining us with empty coffee cups in hand. "You've always been so independent, so determined to do everything yourself. It's nice to see you letting someone in."
Before I could respond, Casey burst into the kitchen. "Mom! Grandma Margaret says she has pictures of Dad when he was my age! She says we look exactly the same! Can we see them?"
"Of course, sweetheart," I said, letting her pull me into the living room where Margaret was already opening a small photo album she'd brought.
"I thought Casey might like to see these," she explained as we settled on the couch. Easton made room for me beside him. "I've been saving Easton's childhood albums for years, hoping someday…"
She didn't finish, but the implication was clear. She'd been hoping someday there would be a grandchild to share them with. That she never gave up that hope, even as Easton showed no signs of settling down, touched something deep inside me.
Casey crawled into my lap, her body warm and soft against mine, as Margaret opened the album. The first photo showed Easton at about six years old with a gap-toothed grin, unruly dark hair, and his distinctive blue eyes sparkling with mischief.
"That's Dad?" Casey gasped, looking between the photo and Easton with wide eyes. "We look the same!"
"Told you," Easton said, his arm sliding around my shoulders as he leaned in to see. "It's like looking in a time-traveling mirror."
My mother leaned over Casey's shoulder, studying the photo. "The resemblance is remarkable. Those eyes are unmistakable."
A wave of sadness washed over me as Margaret showed Casey photos of Easton's first hockey team, his elementary school graduation, and family vacations at the lake. All the moments and milestones Easton had missed during Casey's early years.
But mingled with that regret was something else. The way both sets of grandparents had embraced Casey without reservation. The genuine joy on my daughter's face as she discovered her paternal heritage.
"Mom, look!" Casey exclaimed, pointing to a photo of young Easton with a science fair project. "He did volcanoes, too! Just like me!"
"Great minds think alike," Easton said, winking at her.
"We should get these photos scanned," my mother suggested, always practical. "Casey should have a copy of both family albums. Elizabeth and I could work on a special album for her, combining both families."
"That's a wonderful idea," Margaret agreed, her eyes lighting up. "I have so many more at home I could contribute."
As the two grandmothers planned this joint project, I caught Easton's gaze, seeing my wonder reflected there. How quickly our separate families had merged, finding common ground in their shared love for Casey.
When it was time for dessert, Casey helped both grandmothers serve the pumpkin pie, beaming with pride at being trusted with such an important task.
As we gathered around the table again, Casey piped up. "Can we go ice skating tomorrow? All of us together? Like a real family?"
The air stilled, every adult conversation ceasing.
Not separate outings with Mom or Dad, but all of us together.
Easton's eyes met across the table, a silent question in them.
We'd been carefully navigating our new living arrangement, conscious of not confusing Casey about our relationship.
We were co-parents who shared a home for practical reasons, even as we fell into each other's arms each night after she went to sleep.
But Casey, with the clear sight of a child, saw past the walls we'd built, grasping what we adults had been unwilling to admit.
"I think that sounds wonderful," Margaret said, breaking the silence. "I haven't been skating in years, but I'd love to try."
"Your father and I will bring the thermos of hot chocolate," my mother added with a warm smile. "No skating outing is complete without it."
"I'll bring my camera," Holly chimed in with a wink. "Someone should document this historic family outing."
While everyone discussed the plan with excitement, Easton watched me, waiting for my response. In his eyes, this was about more than a skating trip. It was about acknowledging what we were becoming, what we perhaps already were.
"A family skating day sounds perfect," I said, my gaze still locked with Easton's. "All of us together."
The expression that crossed his face made my heart swell with an emotion I couldn't ignore any longer.
It was love. I'd told him I loved him before, but I felt it now more than ever.
Later, as we cleared dessert plates and the evening wound down, I stood in the entryway watching Easton help Casey with her coat. He knelt before her, zipping her jacket with careful attention, then tapped her nose playfully, making her giggle.
"She adores him," my mother said beside me. "And he adores her."
"Yes," I agreed, unable to deny the evidence. "They've bonded so quickly. Sometimes it's hard to believe they've only known each other a few months."
My mother's knowing gaze shifted from Casey and Easton to me. "Love finds its way, dear. Sometimes in the most unexpected circumstances."
Before I could respond, Margaret joined us, adding her own stack of plates. "Elizabeth, we should exchange recipes before I go. Your cranberry relish was divine."
"And I must have your sweet potato casserole recipe," my mother replied. "Casey ate three helpings!"
I watched with amazement as the two women headed into the kitchen together, already discussing ingredients and cooking techniques as if they'd been friends for years rather than newly connected grandmothers.
As the Henleys prepared to leave, Casey ran from person to person, distributing hugs and extracting promises about tomorrow's skating adventure. When she reached Margaret, she threw her arms around her grandmother's waist with uninhibited affection.
"I'm glad you're my grandma now," she declared loud enough for everyone to hear. "I have the best grandmas and grandpa ever!"
Margaret's eyes glistened as she bent to hug Casey. "And I always wanted a granddaughter exactly like you," she replied, her voice thick with emotion.
As I watched them, Easton's presence brushed against me, and then his arm slid around my waist. "You okay?"
This time, my answer came without hesitation. "Yes," I said, leaning into him. "I'm perfect."