I could just jump for joy. We plan a time, and Rupert helps me give him directions in case his GPS stops working on the way up.
When we say goodbye, Dad tells me firmly, “I love you, Peony. I never stopped loving you. And I can’t wait to see you again.”
By the time we hang up, I’m radiating relief, and I jump into Rupert’s waiting arms.
rupert
It was wonderful to hear my mum’s voice again, and I imagine Peony feels much the same way after speaking with her father. The solace that washes over me at having finally told my mum the truth is immense. She forgave me for disappearing, which I did not deserve, and easily agreed to come visit. Regardless of my form, she said, she misses me and wants nothing more than to see me again.
“And your new fiancée, who’s so special to you that you bled for her,” Mum says solemnly.
I would bleed myself dry for Peony.
Now, though, lurks the specter of her dad coming to visit us. I get the sense that he doesn’t approve of Peony entering another relationship so soon, especially not with an individual whose life is as rife with conflict as mine. But there’s nothing to be done about it, and we will just have to work through it together.
We plan a rather elaborate meal, one that we hope will offer Peony’s father—David—a unique and exciting dining experience.
When his car pulls up in front of the big windows, Peony is a bundle of nerves, running her hands through my fur frequently as if she finds it soothing. We greet him at the door together, and he can’t help taking a step back when I appear in the doorway.
“Oh, wow,” he says, standing stock-still. “You’re huge.”
Peony giggles, a kind of wild giggle that betrays her nerves. “Hi, Dad.”
He holds his arms out to her. “Hi, Peony.”
When they hug, my heart warms seeing just how happy they are to be reunited. I hope he will eventually come to accept me, too.
We begin the dinner with an appetizer, where we’ve used tapioca to create caviar-like bubbles of flavor, which burst when poked and spill their goodness across the crispy fried prawns. David is enchanted by them, popping each one and watching with interest as the magic happens.
“This is fabulous,” he says, relishing each bite. “Have you considered going back into the restaurant business, Peony?”
Her happy demeanor cracks for a moment. “I have, but I’ve been out for so long, it would be hard to find a job again.”
He nods in understanding, though I don’t think he agrees. But it triggers an idea in my mind, one that only develops as the meal continues. Peony dreamed up all the recipes tonight, and I merely helped execute them. Planning the menu brought her so much joy, I wonder how she might glow should she be able to come up with even more.
The entree is a bison mousse atop homemade phyllo dough alongside creamy haricot verts, each plate served with a small boat of sauce to be poured over the top. David makes all sorts of happy noises as he eats, and I can see where Peony gets much of her personality from.
And then comes dessert, where we’ve crafted a perfectly cooked caramel flan. It’s simple but beautiful with a curly slice of orange rind on top. We all enjoy it together, falling into easy conversation about what David has been doing since they last saw one another. He’s moved from manager at a single retail shoe store to overseeing regional operations, which earns a clap of approval from Peony.
“I’m buying a new house,” he says proudly. “With two guest rooms, you know, in case…” He trails off, and I cock my head, wondering what he was going to say.
“In case of what?” Peony asks.
He ducks his head. “I don’t know what the two of youhave planned, so I don’t want to put the cart before the horse, but if you do decide to have children—there is plenty of room if you want to come visit.”
I arch a brow at him, and he shrugs. But Peony’s expression is uncertain.
“Well, I don’t know if, you know, if we plan to… um…” She’s obviously flustered, so I dive in to rescue her.
“Maybe, maybe not,” I say, scooting my chair over to put an arm around her. “We’re going on Peony’s timeline.”
David studies both of us carefully before nodding. “I understand. Those aren’t decisions to be made lightly.”
Especially in our case, when who knows what our children might look like?
After finishing dinner, David rises to his feet. “I suppose I should go soon. There’s snow in the weather forecast, and I don’t want to get stuck.”
Peony hugs him, and he returns it just as fiercely. We stand at the door and wave goodbye as he gets in his car and drives away, just as the snow begins falling.
