“I don’t want summer to end,” I said, wrapping my hands around the mug. “This is so nice. Saturday morning with nowhere we have to be. No cameras. No schedule.”
He smiled, leaning across the island to kiss me. “No regrets?”
“Not a one.”
The girls were drawing at the coffee table, still in their pajamas, chatting about school. Mia was in the middle of telling Margot all about the woman who would be Margot’s fourth grade teacher. I’d been pleased when the class assignments hadcome in. Mrs. Burns was a wonderful teacher and someone who I could talk to openly about the challenges Margot had faced.
Vance put a soft jazz record on the stereo and came back to join me at the island, spreading cream cheese on a bagel just how I liked it. This man noticed all the small details that made my life easier or brought joy.
How different this felt from just a few weeks ago. How frantic everything had been. How exhausted I’d felt, constantly. I drew in a deep breath, grateful to be at peace.
“Mom?” Mia called from behind the couch. “Will you get down my scrapbook? Margot wants to see my fourth grade photo.”
I set down my coffee. “Yes, sure.”
“I’ll get it,” Vance said. “Mia, show me which one.”
“It’s the pink one,” Mia said, pointing to the top shelf of our built in cabinets. Vance retrieved the memory book I’d been making for Mia since she was born.
Mia brought it over to the coffee table. We all sat together to look.
Margot ran her fingers over the cover. “It’s so pretty.”
“Okay, it starts with me as a fetus.” Mia pointed to the ultrasound photos, grainy black and white images of Mia before she’d even entered the world.
“That’s you?” Margot’s voice was soft with wonder as she traced a finger over the first page.
“I know. Weird, right?” Mia said, leaning in. “Mom kept everything. Even the hospital bracelet.”
“I kept everything. I wanted to remember all of it.” I sighed. “It all went so fast.”
Margot turned the page carefully, reverently, pausing to look at each photo. Photos of Mia as a newborn, red-faced and tiny. Me holding her in the hospital, exhausted and radiant. First bath. First smile.
More pages. First steps. Birthday parties with lopsided homemade cakes. Halloween costumes. Christmas mornings. School pictures through the years, Mia’s gap-toothed grin gradually transforming into the beautiful girl sitting beside us now. Photos of her and the other six kids at the beach, visiting Santa, standing in front of the movie theatre to see one of the Marvel movies.
“I wish I had one of these.” Margot turned another page, her fingers lingering on a photo of Mia blowing out birthday candles. “My mom wouldn’t have made one though.”
My chest ached. Would Margot ever get over the rejection from her own mother? I had to love her. Hard.
“I have a whole bunch of photos of you,” Vance said mildly. But I knew better. It ripped out his heart to hear the hurt in her voice. “And a bunch of your baby things. I have them in storage but I’ll get them out.”
“And I’ll make a scrapbook for you,” I said. “Just like this one.”
“But what about when we were apart?” Margot asked. “Times no one took pictures because no one was paying attention.”
I pulled her close, wrapping my arm around her small shoulders. “We won’t have those but we’ll make sure we have tons of photos from here on out. For example, your first day of fourth grade is coming up.” I turned back to find Mia’s first day of fourth grade photo. I’d taken it on the front steps right before the school bus came. She held a sign that said,First Day of 4thGrade.“Just like this one.”
She looked up at me, hope flickering in her expression. “Really?”
“For sure,” I said. “ I’ll take all the photos Papa has and put them together for you in a book just like this one. The ones from when you were tiny. And we’ll keep adding new ones. Fromyour life here with us. Today at the beach, for example. All the moments we’re building together.”
“There will still be empty years,” Margot said. “Do we leave the pages blank for those?”
Vance and I exchanged a pained look.
“I have an idea,” Vance said. “How about you draw or paint some of your memories from those years and we’ll put them in there.”
Margot’s lip trembled. “I’d like that.”
