He nodded. “There are.”
“It’s like a TV show, like an old TV show from the nineties.”
He nodded a bit, catching her gaze. “What do you think about it?”
“It’s loud. It’s busy. It’s kind of cool. Everybody’s grinning.” She offered him a worried smile. “Is there going to be a fight at the dinner table? Is there going to be a fight? Should we be careful?”
He didn’t follow. He rubbed his forehead, frowning. “Okay, did somebody say there was going to be a fight?”
“Well, yeah, the TV.”
“Wait, the television told you there was going to be a fight?” The last thing he needed right now was a child that needed mental health care,
“Daddy.” She rolled her eyes. “Daddy. No! You know they always have this big thing and then somebody throws the turkey?”
The light bulb went on and he shook his head. “Oh, baby, no, this is not that. There’s not going to be a fight like that. That’s just TV. Besides, look at how many people are here. Do you think that there’s a table on earth that could hold us all? We’re going to get our plates and eat, and then people will wander in and out, and there’s just going to be lots of eating and playing games and watching football.”
He waved toward the television, and she nudged him lightly with her shoulder.
“Daddy. Those are dogs on the TV, not football.”
“Thank you. I would never have figured that out on my own.” Sarcastic girl.
“Well, I can help.” Her eyes twinkled. “You see, the dogs are not wearing shoulder pads.”
He reached over and tickled her, making her squeal. “Would you go find a friend? Will you go phone a friend, please?”
And she chuckled. “Yeah, Granny Halley got us all tons of paint-by-numbers, and it’s all set up in her great big art room. We’re all going to have a paint party. Cool, huh?”
“Extremely cool. Have fun.”
“Be good, Daddy.” She got up and left him, which was fine, because Scott settled back in just as the hound group trotted out into the ring.
That basset was adorable. So was the dachshund.
The noise was stunning. It was happy, but it was insane. “How did you stand this?” he whispered to Scott.
“Well, it didn’t happen all at once, you know. First, there’s six years in between Diana and Cam, so that’s four of the kids. The next two came pretty quick, but then we had a big break, so by the time Susan came, Diana was leaving for college. By the time Susan was in school, Cam was a senior in high school, so three of the seven were gone. Just think, we still have two who haven’t even started having their babies yet. God knows if Lizzie doesn’t slow down, we’re going to be in trouble.”
Jesus, all that mental gymnastics…
Scott winked at him, “But really, it’s a big house. I come from a big family, so does Pam. We always wanted this sort of thing—a big family with big holidays, filled with all the grandbabies. This is Mom’s holiday; we do Christmas, sure, but some of y’all come over on Christmas Eve, some come Christmas Day, usually Christmas morning. It’s pretty iffy. So, this is the one that she claims as her own.”
His mind was spinning—partly because they were a part of a ‘y’all’ which included him and his kids. “Well, y’all are welcome to come over to our house if you’d like on Christmas morning. We’d be happy to have you.”
He could order cinnamon rolls for seven as well as he could for five.
Scott’s eyebrows went up. “I’ll ask Pam. I would love that. Then we all could come back here to do presents with the rest of the grandkids.”
“Sounds great.”
He assumed Cam wouldn’t care, and if Cam did, he would just apologize. The kids had never had grandparents at the holidays.
Hell, two months ago he would have sworn that he wasn’t going to be able to do Christmas this year at all.
But every time he tried to pay Mark back, Mark said no. It was a gift, not a loan. Whenever he tried to repay Wilder or Scott or Pam or Lori back, they said he was family.
Then there was Cam.
