Page 38 of Love Wells Kept
“Fine-uh.” She turns sharply on her heels and strides out like a grass fire, saying something snarky to her little brother that I can’t quite make out as they pass at the bottom of the stairs.
My head tilts to the side to watch him stumble into the kitchen, Spider-Man pajamas askew and hair standing on end. “Good morning. Can we not pester your sister before she’s had her breakfast? She’s extra dramatic on an empty stomach.”
He shrugs. “I thought it was my toothbrush.”
Yeah, I’m sure he got his Spider-Man one mixed up with her pink unicorn-shaped toothbrush.
Beryl stands and extends an arm toward him, waiting for his small hand to slip into hers without hesitation. “Come on, honey. Let’s make pancakes for breakfast today.”
My palms brace the edge of the counter, preparing to push myself to stand so I can help, when Beryl shoots a look at me. “Sit. Enjoy your coffee in peace. I think my boy and I can manage some simple pancakes without help.”
The creamy coffee goes down smooth, settling in my stomach and warming my entire body from the inside out. Rhett and Beryl waste no time getting started on their pancakes—from scratch, of course—and in a display of questionable judgment, Beryl lets the three-year-old handle the pancake flipping.
“When you see those bubbles there, that’s when you know it’s time to flip them,” Beryl instructs, leaning her hip against the counter and brushing flour from the front of her shirt.
Rhett’s tongue pokes between his lips, and he awkwardly jams the flipper under the pancake, then sends it cartwheeling from one edge of the pan to the other. When it lands, he gives the air a quick fist pump.
“I’m the pancake boss!” he exclaims, spinning on his stool with wide eyes and a grin. “Mommy, did you see?”
I raise my eyebrows and match his wide smile. “Sure did, bud. Good job, pancake boss.”
Filled with confidence, he gets careless in the way he’s standing, and Beryl rushes to shift him away from the flame of the natural gas stove before his shirt catches on fire. “Honey, you have to watch the flame under the pan. Can’t get too close or you might burn yourself.”
At the kitchen table, Austin mumbles into his coffee mug, “I’ve spent enough hours at the hospital lately to last me a lifetime, and I will not be taking anyone there today.”
Beryl gives an annoyed cluck of her tongue. “One day this is who’s running your ranch, Austin.”
With a single breathy laugh, he replies, “I think I might trust Odessa more.”
“I’m very trust-able.” Odessa saunters back in with minimally less attitude than she had earlier. Sidling up next to her little brother, she peers over at the shapes he’s creating on the griddle. “What’s that one supposed to be?”
“It’s a heart,” Rhett proudly declares.
Odessa laughs. “It looks like a butt.”
“You look like a butt.”
I sigh. “Guys, can we get through one breakfast without any talk of butts?”
Honestly, I doubt it. Butts, farts, poop…peak humor around these parts.
“It’s a heart,” Rhett repeats, rolling his shoulders. “It’s for Daddy.”
Odessa abandons the pancake-making operation and heads for the fridge to grab a carton of orange juice. “Dad’s not even out here yet.”
I glance at the wall clock. Somehow forty-five minutes have passed since I woke up, and I don’t feel any more awake than I did then.
I throw back the rest of the coffee in my cup, hoping for a jolt of life. “I’m gonna make sure he’s awake and hasn’t forgotten about his meds. You guys save him a good pancake.”
Odessa throws a look at her brother. “Give the cat butt to Uncle and make a fresh one for Dad.”
“Great,” Austin mutters, shaking his head.
“Oh, you love it, you old grump,” I say. “If you didn’t, you’d be sitting at your own kitchen table this morning.”
Every muscle in my body aches from exhaustion, and I zone out for so long on the stream of cold water coming from the faucet that it overflows the glass, washing over my fingers until they start to prickle with numbness.
“You okay?” Beryl says softly, watching me take a dry tea towel to the sides of the glass to wipe off the excess moisture.
