At supper, Harper insists on two things. She demands that I sit on one side of her and Clark’s infant seat is situated in a chair on the other. I notice that her family takes this behavior in hand as if her love of children is common knowledge. I obviously don’t know her as well as I thought I did.
Supper consists of andouille gumbo with sweet potato, jambalaya, and homemade French bread. It’s absolutely delicious. The family is loud and loving. I smile as I think how appalled my mother would be at the display before me: elbows on the table, people reaching across the middle, tossing pieces of bread from one end to the other.
Harper is equally attentive to Clark and me. She makes sure my plate is full and often asks me if I’m doing okay even as she is holding a bottle for the baby and following the conversation around her.
Christian, true to his mother’s words, has lost all shyness. Now Robie and Harper are taking turns challenging him to sing songs and he stands in his chair for each one, belting out classics like Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Each round is greeted with cries of encouragement from the two siblings. "You sing, peeshwet."
Somewhere in the middle of the meal, I forget to be uptight and reserved and start enjoying myself.
Mama is bending my ear on one side, asking about work and how I got where I am. She brings up my family but drops the subject kindly when I’m reluctant to talk about them. Even though I’ve known her for less than a day, I’m certain the topic will come up again and I won’t be able to avoid it.
"Mama made sweet potato pie for dessert, Kels," Harper says, interrupting our conversation. "She makes the best pie so you better save some room." To her mother she says, "I have had such an envie for good food, Mama!"
Mama replies with a wide smile, full of affection of her youngest.
"Save some room? You’re the one who’s been piling food on my plate," I laugh.
Harper pats my knee and winks at me. God, she’s even more gorgeous here with her family.
"Hey," Robie calls from his seat across the table. "Quit flirting over there. You get to see Kelsey all the time. I think Clark needs his tante to hold him."
Harper doesn’t miss a beat as she reaches over to free Clark from his seat and cradle him against her. "Thank God I get to see Kelsey more than your ugly mug, Robie."
Clark fusses momentarily and I wave my fingers at him. He looks comfortable there on her chest. Of course, who wouldn’t be?
"You wanna hold him, Kels?"
I blink for a moment. Me? Hold a baby? "No, that’s okay."
"No, really." She’s already moving closer to me, pressing the baby into my arms.
"Maybe she doesn’t want to hold Clark, Harper," Robie chastises.
"Ça! Don’t worry. She won’t drop him on his head like Papa did you, big guy." Her blue eyes twinkle at me. "You won’t drop him, right?" she whispers.
I shake my head rapidly.
"Good." She’s tucking my arm around him, sliding it under his well-padded bottom.
"His head?" I don’t know much about babies but I remember something about wobbly necks.
"It’s fine," she assures me. "Just support it on your elbow like that. There."
Oh shit. Her hands are gone and I’m holding Clark. He looks as uncomfortable as I feel.
"Relax," Harper whispers, rubbing my knee warmly. "Isn’t he wonderful?"
I nod. He’s warm and solid in my grip and his eyes are so trusting. I can’t help but smile.
"Smell him."
"Huh?"
The entire table bursts out laughing and I blush bright red. I can feel the heat of my face.
Harper smiles. "Smell his skin. Babies smell so good. As long as their diapers are clean."
I do as she says and there is something about his scent that’s comforting. He smells fresh and cozy. The scent of baby powder lingers on him. I look up to Harper and we meet eyes as she nods.
"Wonderful, huh?"
"Yeah," I agree. "You love kids."
"Sure, I do. What’s there not to love?"
"Have you ever thought of having them?"
"Nah," she waves me off. "I’m the world’s best aunt. That’s good enough."
Christian agrees readily and Robie makes a comment about swollen heads. Harper ignores him as she helps me settle Clark and shows me how to eat one handed. It’s harder than it looks.
I know I’m in for it when I sneak into the kitchen just after midnight and Mama is sitting at the table.
"Thief!" she accuses and I smirk.
"Is there any more of that pie, Mama?"
"Mais, yeah."
She starts to stand but I wave her back to her seat. "I’ll get it. You want a piece?"
"Oh no, bou. I’m stuffed."
She lets me stew through half of my midnight snack before she speaks up. "Tell me about this sweet Kelsey and you."
I meet her eyes, knowing that they are exact replicas of my own. She’s not teasing or pressing, she honestly wants to know.
"Not much to tell. We work together."
She purses her lips in thought. "But you want more?"
"It’s complicated."
"Tell your Mama," she soothes. How often have I heard that phrase?
I consider how much to tell but I know she’ll get it all out over the course of the weekend. Poor Kelsey, she won’t be safe from my mother’s questioning. "We work well together, we click in a lot of ways. When she’s herself, she’s wonderful. But she’s almost always hiding behind this imaginary person she thinks she has to be."
"She’s hurt you."
Uh oh. "Non, Mama," I say quickly, trying to save Kels from her wrath. "Well, we’ve hurt each other. But we’re moving past that."
"She wants a relationship with a woman, though? This you know?"
I smirk, finishing my pie. "I know she does."
"And she likes you?"
"Who wouldn’t?" I give her my best smug look.
Mama laughs and reaches out to smooth my hair back. "Who, indeed? What do you know about her people?"
I tell her about Omaha and the phone message I heard. "That’s all I know."
She looks as angry as I feel. "Maybe she doesn’t know how to be liked or cared for. Those couillons!"
I shrug silently. Maybe. But there is Erik and she’s mentioned a grandfather. Plus she does have some kind of relationship with Susan. I can’t figure out why the fuck she’d want Susan instead of me but self-esteem has never been a big problem of mine.
"We must seem from a different planet," Mama says and finishes up her coffee.
"I think she’s feeling a little overwhelmed," I agree.
"Harper, you dote on her."
I’m shocked. I don’t dote on Kelsey. I say as much.
Mama laughs and clears my plate, rinsing it in the sink and dropping it into the dishwasher. "You were good with her and Clark."
I shrug. "Kingsley babies are easy to love. She just needs practice." I can’t believe I said that. "With Clark," I add but I can tell by her smile that I already blew it.
"Practice makes perfect."
I shake my head, hiding a smirk. My parents are impossible. It’s late and I’m tired so I stand up and stretch. "It’s good to be home, Mama."
"Well, don’t wait so long next time," she chides. "And I’m glad you brought her."
"Mama, you know some matches just can’t be made," I say stupidly and then cringe. Shit, I just challenged her. We’re really in for it now.
I can hear her chuckling as I make my way up the staircase. I can’t wait to see the rest of my family tomorrow. My visit is all the sweeter having Kelsey here to share it.
<fade out>
Next Week on Must Read TV:
<fade in>
I’m wondering where Kels has gotten to when Rachel comes into the garden with a tray of ice tea. Ohm I don’t like the look on her face. It’s far too smug. She sets the tray down, picks up a glass and turns to me, placing it in my hand. "She’s cute, Harper."