workers handling their case warned them that Gabriella took a while to warm up to people, if she ever did. So they knew, going into it, that they'd have an uphill battle, but… Well. There are good days and bad days, but it's been a little more difficult since she was suspended from karate class a week ago for yelling at the sensei.
When Josh thinks about how an eight-year-old can get so cynical and distrusting, he wants to meet the parents that abandoned her and Henry and do more than give them a piece of his mind.
Henry's mittened hand slips into his for balance as they go down the porch steps, and Josh focuses on the present. Normally, he'd jog to the end of their country road and back, a good five miles, but with Henry along, he'll see how long the little guy lasts.
Today, his jogging pace is more a quick walk, with Henry running beside him in spurts, getting a few feet ahead and stopping to look back at Josh.
"Come on, come on!" Henry yells excitedly, not afraid to be loud now that they're away from the house. Sometimes Josh wonders at the way the kids tiptoe around so carefully if either adult is sleeping. But when he's on-call or works a split-shift and sleeps during the day, he definitely appreciates it.
"We're having an adventure," Henry explains as he runs ahead again. "We gotta go fast over the plank, or the pirates will get us with the alligators, and then we'd be eaten!"
If Henry hadn't been on a Disney kick, that would make no sense to Josh, but he's learning to translate. Kind of.
"I'm coming," he calls back, keeping his pace steady.
"Rawrrr! They're coming! Go faster!"
They make it all the way down their long driveway to the mailbox before Henry is sniffling and wiping his runny nose on his jacket sleeve, dry coughing from the cold. There's only four other houses past them on their country lane, but Josh doesn't like to run where there's cars when he has the kids with him.
Henry pauses, dramatically bending over with his hands on his knees and sucking in deep breaths. "Oh, I've got no air."
"You're doing fine, buddy."
Josh takes a moment to stretch. In the distance, he hears the front door open again and Muttlee come tearing out, barking his fool head off. Probably chasing squirrels or birds. But that means the rest of their household is up.
"Sounds like your papa is awake," he comments, knowing that Henry will remember the promise Garrison made the night before.
"Pancakes with jam! Pancakes with jam!" Henry does a little dance, wind milling his arms. "Pick me up, Da."
It's still a kick, referring to Garrison as someone's "papa," and himself being "da." Gabriella just eschews names for them altogether, but Henry chose the monikers and has taken to using them with his usual enthusiasm.
Laughing at the way Henry is jumping around, Josh easily swings the boy up into his arms, letting Henry wiggle until he's perched on Josh's right forearm and gripping the collar of Josh's sweatshirt.
"Go, go! We gotta get back before Ella eats 'em all!" Tiny sneakers kick out, jamming his ribs, but it doesn't hurt. Henry's so little, he weighs less than the rucksacks Josh used to haul around in the Marines.
Just to make Henry giggle louder, Josh takes off running back up the driveway, grinning as Henry makes a guffawing noise with each bouncing step. Muttlee joins in halfway up, running alongside Josh and barking.
They're laughing together when they reach the porch, chilled and windblown, but the foyer is toasty warm. Josh helps Henry out of a couple layers of t-shirts as the boy squirms in excitement. Letting him run off to the kitchen is like letting one of those whirring wind-up cars go, the ballistic trajectory of an excited five-year-old thundering after pancakes.
"There's my guy," Garrison exclaims, and Josh enters the kitchen to find Henry already perched on Garrison's hip, farthest from the stove, telling Garrison all about their morning adventure.
Josh doesn't hesitate to give Garrison a quick kiss over the top of Henry's head and snags the remains of the first pancake off the plate at Garrison's elbow.
Displays of affection between them were just one of a hundred topics they'd discussed at length when they were getting ready for the kids to arrive. The social worker they'd spoken with had recommended that they just act normal, showing Henry and Gabriella that the relationship between them was strong and steady. The kids didn't seem to mind.
"There were alligators, huh?" Garrison asks Henry as he flips a pancake with one hand.
He's good with multi-tasking, a total Super Dad, and Josh has another of those surreal moments, watching him with their son in their kitchen, the sense of belonging. Garrison's already dressed for the day in slacks and a red button-down shirt, his head freshly shaved and his gold jewelry on. Even now, with Henry grabbing the collar of Garrison's expensive shirt in his small grip, light brown skin in stark contrast to Garrison's darker tones, Garrison doesn't seem too concerned about staying presentable. Never mind that they're going to have company soon, he'll probably manage to stay perfectly groomed throughout the day, like magic, while Josh gets wrinkles and finger paint and food all over his own clothes.
"Would you like some apple juice?" Garrison asks Henry, but Josh takes that as his cue to hit the fridge.
Henry wriggles until Garrison sets him down and comes over to "help" Josh liberate a juice box or five. The kid hoards food if given the chance. Garrison and Josh are both over six feet tall, and they work out -- not as much as they used to, these days -- so the house is set up for towering adults who don't mind lifting heavy objects. Now they have these two little beings living with them, but they still aren't sure what to put within the kids' reach.
"Could you go see if Ms. Gabriella's awake?" Garrison interrupts his thoughts with a smile. Josh can only imagine what expression had been on his face, and he flushes, embarrassed at being caught out.
Gabriella's bedroom door is only open a sliver. She'd argued to keep it closed completely, but sometimes she has nightmares, and they want to know, since she rarely mentions it to them.
Josh knocks and listens for a moment before pushing the door open. The lump of blankets shifts with a moan before Gabriella gazes out with a grumpy expression, her tight brown ringlets an angry halo around her head. She'd wanted her room painted in hues of blue with purple highlights, and normally it looks bright and airy, but in the overcast morning light, it just looks gloomy.
"Merry Christmas Eve," he says with a grin, not offended when she rolls her eyes at his good cheer. His tactics for dealing with her crankiness generally run toward being positive in the face of all adversity.
"Is there snow?" She asks, still burrowed.
"Nope, but it looks like it wants to."
"Hmph."
"Garrison's making pancakes with jam centers," he says when she doesn't seem inclined to move. "Grandma and Grandpa should be here in a couple hours with Aunt Sherry and Uncle Pierre."
She peers out at him. "Don't they have kids?"
Funny how, even at eight, she categorizes anyone under the age of twelve as "kids."
"Jeremiah and Lily. They'll be here, too."
"Great." She sighs, totally put out with the world. Then she gives him an expectant look. "Well? I can't get dressed with you watching."
He's pointedly quiet at her tone because if she back talks like that around Garrison's mom, she'll get sent to her room in a heartbeat, and she sighs again. "Fine. Please can I get dressed now?"
Not exactly what he was hoping for, but he'll take it. "Five minutes to chow time," he says and raps his knuckles on the doorway before backing out. They've learned that, if they don't give her a time limit, she'll get distracted by any number of things and not emerge for an hour. Yesterday was her color pencils-by-numbers; the day before that was her pastels and sketchpad. At least she's creative.
Henry's merrily stabbing his pancakes with a fork at the table, and Josh makes a beeline to the steaming mug of coffee on the counter. Garrison hands him a plate but holds onto it until Josh kisses his cheek.
"Your mother called
while you were out," he says, setting aside another plate of pancakes for Gabriella. "Her flight's going to be on-time."
He's starting to sound a little stressed, so Josh just grins and bumps hips with him. "Wouldn't be the holidays if it wasn't busy, right?"
Garrison takes a deep breath. "Crazy, more like it."
Not only is this their first Christmas with the kids, but also the first time hosting both families at their house for the holidays. When they'd decided to stay home rather than subject the kids to the stresses of travel, all three grandparents had protested and started making plans to descend.
He almost regrets giving his Mama the number for Garrison's parents. Almost. Garrison's parents came out for Thanksgiving, so the kids know them now, and Mama has another source of pictures, taking some of the pressure off Josh to constantly supply them.
But Garrison's been cleaning the already-spotless house for the past week, even enlisting the kids to help, in preparation for more overnight guests than they've ever had. They have the only ranch-style house in their sleepy mountain town, smaller than some of the other houses around them, but there should be enough room for everyone. Josh hopes.
Gabriella shuffles out and mumbles good morning, accepting her plate with a yawn. She's dressed in jeans and a blue sweater, an adamant tomboy, much to her Grandma's despair, even if Josh kind of thinks that they lucked out.
They all sit down at the kitchen table, and Josh recognizes it