A Family Affair
Disclaimer: I don't own the Witchblade characters. They're the property of TNT and Top Cow. I'm just playing. Enjoy!
Author's Note: Sorry for the long delay between chapters. Real life insisted on intruding! Hopefully, I will have more soon.
*****
Chapter 51.
******
At 10:00 a.m. on the dot, Sara and Ian entered the main house through the unlocked side door, pausing in the coatroom to remove their outerwear.
"Morning, Joey!" Sara called to her nephew, who was standing at the kitchen island wearing an apron over a navy-blue sweat suit. "You can leave the laundry in here for now, Ian," she told Nottingham, who carried two pillowcases full of soiled bed linens, towels, and clothing. She dropped a third pillowcase onto the floor of the coatroom and took off her coat.
"Hey, Aunt Sara, hey, Ian," Joey greeted them. "You're early. I haven't even started cooking yet."
"Oh, good!" Ian said, taking off his coat and hanging it up without Sara's help. He was still wearing the sling for appearance's sake but had just proved beyond a shadow of doubt that he no longer needed it. "I was hoping that you would teach me how to make pancakes, Joseph," he told the teenager, entering the kitchen.
"Sure. They're really easy to make," the boy responded, "and I could use the help."
"Good morning, guys," Paula Siri said, coming into the kitchen carrying a coffee mug.
"Morning, Paula," Sara said, inhaling the tantalizing scent of fresh- brewed coffee longingly.
"Good morning, Paula," Ian greeted his hostess. "Joseph has agreed to teach me how to make pancakes, so I will be cooking alongside him if that is all right with you."
"That's great. Have fun. Can I get either of you some coffee?" Paula asked them, reaching for the coffee pot.
"A cup of Earl Grey tea would be most appreciated," Ian replied.
Paula nodded, taking the kettle off the stove and filling it with water before glancing inquiringly at Sara, who made a forlorn face.
"No coffee for me, thanks," she said, sighing heavily.
Her sister-in-law stared at her. "I must be hearing things. Did you actually just turn down coffee?"
Sara nodded self-consciously. "I'm trying to cut down," she mumbled, coloring. "You wouldn't happen to have any decaf, would you?"
"Well, it so happens that I brewed a pot of decaf for myself," her sister-in-law said, taking a couple of mugs from the mug tree on the countertop and pouring a cup for Sara.
"Thanks," Sara said, accepting it gratefully. 'I'll just pretend it's real coffee. Yeah, that's what I'll do,' she thought desperately. 'You can do this Pezzini. Think of mini-Ian.'
"Morning everybody," Robbie said, ambling into the kitchen. He was still wearing his pajamas and robe. "Mmmm, coffee please!" he said to his wife.
"Good morning, Robert," Ian said, watching intently as Joey dumped a cup of Bisquick into a large mixing bowl, followed by a cup of milk.
Paula poured her husband a mug of the real stuff. "Watch out," she whispered to him, "Sara's drinking decaf."
Robert's eyes widened. "Get out of town! What's up with that?" he whispered back at her.
"What's the big deal?" Sara grumbled, overhearing them. "I'm just trying to cut down on caffeine is all."
"It's just that you're such a coffee whore, Sara," her brother said.
Ian burst out laughing. "Sara the coffee whore! Perfect. I must remember that," he chuckled, but immediately sobered upon noticing that Sara was glaring daggers at him. *Um, did I mention that I love and admire you for the supreme sacrifice you're making on behalf of our unborn child?* he sent placatingly.
"Nice, Robbie, real nice," Sara said aloud. *Yeah, you say that now, Nottingham. Just wait until caffeine withdrawal sets in,* she replied privately. *Things could, and probably will, get ugly.*
"What's nice?" Gina Marie Siri inquired as she sauntered into the kitchen. She was wearing a bright pink, calf-length flannel nightgown that had the Power Puff girls on it. On her feet, were fuzzy pink bunny slippers. She went to the refrigerator and took out the orange juice.
"Now, don't be alarmed, Sweetie, but your Aunt Sara has decided to cut back on her caffeine. She's drinking decaf," Robert told his daughter. "Your mother and I will protect you."
"Good for you, Aunt Sara," the girl said, making a face. "I don't know how you can drink that nasty stuff anyway. One morning about a year ago, I snuck half a mug before I went to school. I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Well, at the end of the day, my teacher sent a note home with me saying she thought I was hyper! I just couldn't sit still or concentrate all morning!" She took a glass out of the cabinet over the sink and poured herself some OJ.
"Ahhh, so that's what that was all about!" Paula said, removing the whistling teakettle from the burner and pouring water over Ian's Earl Grey teabag. "I told your teacher she was mistaken."
"Actually, honey, I think your exact words were 'You're crazy, Ms. Marsh, my child doesn't have attention deficit hyperactivity disorder!'" Robert interjected.
"Oh, yeah, that's right. I probably owe her an apology," Paula murmured. She leveled a stern look at her daughter. "Young lady, you and I have to have a talk about 'experimenting.'"
"Just say no to drugs, Sis," Joey said, smirking. "There, I saved you the trouble, Mom."
"Yeah, right, Wiseass," Paula said, giving her son a playful smack upside the head. "Hey, it's after 10:00 and nothing's on the stove yet. You and Ian better get hopping!" she pointed out. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving."
"Ian's helping Joey?" Gina Marie said, grinning. "This I gotta see." She started to climb up onto one of the barstools on the other side of the kitchen island/breakfast bar, but Sara grabbed her by the sleeve of her nightgown.
"Uh-unh, no spectators allowed, Missy," she said. "This is Ian's first time making pancakes, and we wouldn't want him to get performance anxiety."
"That's right, Shrimp. Everybody out! We men have work to do!" Joey said, cracking an egg on the edge of the mixing bowl.
"Um, I do not believe eggshell is part of the recipe, Joseph," Sara heard Ian say softly as she started to follow her brother, sister-in-law, and niece out of the kitchen.
"Shhh, it's okay," Joey responded in a loud whisper. "I'll make sure Gina Marie gets the one with the shell in it. She loves crunchy pancakes."
As he'd obviously intended, his sister heard him. "You better not, Joey!" she yelled, pushing past her parents and Sara to storm back into the kitchen. "Mommy, maybe you should supervise," she whined to her mother. "I don't trust Joey not to put something yucky in my pancakes."
"I'm sure your brother was just joking, Sweetie," Paula said. "Isn't that right, Joey?"
The boy shrugged. "Whatever."
"He better be joking!" Gina Marie sniffed, watching with an eagle eye as he fished the shell fragment out of the bowl. "Just for that, you have to make me a chocolate chip smiley-face pancake, Joey," she told her brother. "With whipped cream and a cherry nose."
"I would be honored to make a special pancake for you, Princess," Ian volunteered. "But you will have to show me how."
"Sure," she said, smiling at him. "It's really easy."
Joey frowned, shaking his head. "Nah, that's okay, I'll show him how to make your stupid smiley-face pancake," he said. "Now, scram! The kitchen is off limits to midgets until we're done cooking."
"C'mon, Gina Marie," Paula said, forestalling another eruption from her scowling daughter. "The sooner we leave them be, the sooner we get to eat. Let's play Chinese checkers until breakfast is ready."
"All right, but he better not mess my pancake up," the girl grumbled following her mother from the kitchen.
*That's what you call sibling rivalry,* Sara sent to Ian as she headed for the living room. *I'm thinking we should stop at one kid, Witchblade be damned!*
*I tend to agree with you. Whew!* he replied. *However, Paula and Robert seem to take it in stride.*
*Years of practice, lover. Years of practice.*
For the next half an hour, Sara sat in the living room chatting with her brother, sister-in-law, and niece, trying her best to ignore the slight headache caused by caffeine deprivation. From the kitchen came intermittent bursts of Ian's distinctive husky laugh mingled with Joey's familiar chortle. At one point, she winced, flinching, as she heard something fall to the floor and shatter.
"Uh, slight accident with the mixing bowl," Joey called after a pregnant moment of silence. "But everything's under control!"
Paula and Robert both closed their eyes briefly before exchanging long-suffering glances.
"Told you somebody should have supervised," Gina Marie murmured. "But did anyone listen to me? Noooo."
*Do you need help in there, baby?* Sara sent.
*Um, I don't think so,* came Ian's distracted reply after a moment. *But this is harder than I thought it would be.*
*I'm sure you're doing fine.*
*Maybe you'd better reserve judgment until after you've tasted my pancakes,* he said ruefully. *Apparently, there's a knack to getting them to cook evenly, but I have yet to master it. Joey's, on the other hand, are enviably perfect. Breakfast will be ready shortly.*
The scent of bacon wafted into the room, and Sara's mouth watered.
"Let's go set the table, Gina Marie," Paula said, getting up from the braided rug and their game of Chinese checkers.
"Okay," her daughter agreed, rising.
A few minutes later the swinging door to the kitchen opened, and Joey entered the dining room carrying a loaded tray. "Breakfast is served!" he announced.
Right behind him came Ian, proudly holding a plate in his right hand, and Sara couldn't help but smile when she saw that he wore a red-and-white plaid apron that said "Kiss the Cook" on it.
"Okay," she murmured, going to him. Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed him.
"Mmmm, that was nice," he said when she broke off the kiss a long minute later.
Sara grinned to see that he'd somehow managed to get pancake batter in his hair. "Which pancakes are yours?" she asked, glancing at the food.
"The misshapen, under- or overcooked ones," he said wryly. "Except for this one." The plate he held contained an extra-large pancake. It had chocolate chips for its eyes and smiling mouth, a maraschino cherry nose, and chocolate whipped-cream hair, eyebrows, and, as an added bonus, a beard and mustache. "Here you go, Princess," Ian said, handing the plate to Gina Marie.
The 11-year-old grinned with delight. "Wow! He's perfect! Thanks, Ian!"
"Let's eat," Robbie said, sitting down and helping himself to the food, which also included scrambled cheesy eggs.
In addition to plain ones, there were also banana walnut and apple cinnamon pancakes. Sara praised Ian's efforts, informing him that his pancakes were pretty darn good given that this marked his first attempt at making them, adding that she herself couldn't have done any better and in all likelihood would have done far, far worse. Her family heartily agreed with her on the latter point -- just a tad too vigorously, she thought ruefully. Her almost total inability to cook was infamous.
Everybody made short work of the food. Patting her full tummy with satisfaction, Sara volunteered for cleanup duty, roping her niece into helping her.
"Uh, things got kinda messy in there," Joey warned them as the two of them started gathering up the dirty dishes. "It was mostly Ian's fault. He was just out of control," he claimed, straight-faced.
"Now, you know that is not true, Joseph," Ian said, shaking his head. "I did my best to clean up as we went along, but it was exceedingly difficult to do one-handed and I was thwarted at nearly every turn by the Mad Pancake Cook there."
"I'll bet," Sara smirked, backing up through the swinging door to the kitchen. When she turned around, she let out a gasp, nearly dropping the stack of plates and cutlery she held.
"Oh my God!" Gina Marie breathed, peering around her aunt. "This place is a disaster!"
It looked for all the world like a tornado had touched down in the formerly spotless kitchen.
"It's not as bad as it looks," Sara said faintly. "We'll have it cleaned up in no time."
"Yeah, right!" Gina Marie snorted. "Aunt Sara, Daddy and Joey have already gone upstairs to get ready to go sledding. Is it all right if I go get dressed, too? I promise I'll come right back and help out with the cleanup." She carefully placed the tray of glasses and mugs she carried onto the cluttered countertop, next to the plates and silverware.
Sara sighed. "Go on." *Nottingham, what'd you do, set off one of your grenades in here? Geez!*
*Sorry! Things sort of got out of hand. I'll come help you clean up, my love.*
*No, no, no. Relax, I got it covered. Rule is whoever doesn't cook has to clean up,* she told him. *But, damn! I shoulda known something was up when I heard all the laughter coming from in here. Thank God they have a dishwasher.*
"Looks like you could use a hand," Paula said, coming into the kitchen. "Where did Gina Marie go?"
"She's getting dressed to go sledding. She said she'd be right back," Sara told her.
"Yeah, fat chance. These days, she takes forever to get dressed. She's starting to become interested in boys, and there just might be boys at the park where they're going sledding. I'll load the dishwasher for you," Paula offered.
"Wait a sec, our little girl is interested in boys? That can't be! She's only 11!"
Paula shrugged. "Kids grow up faster and faster these days. Last week, she asked me if she could start wearing makeup!"
"No way!"
"Yes way." Paula opened the dishwasher and started stacking dishes into it while Sara began clearing off the island countertop/breakfast bar. "So, Ian isn't afraid to try his hand at cooking, hunh? I think he's a keeper, Sara!"
"Yeah. You should have seen him on the way over here. He was actually excited about the prospect of learning how to make pancakes. He makes a mean omelet, too."
"Definitely a keeper." Paula eyed her. "So, you made good use of those prophylactics I found in the apartment, hunh?"
Sara paused in the act of scraping congealed pancake batter off the stovetop. "Uh, well, sort of."
The other woman's brown eyes met hers quizzically. "What do you mean 'sort of'? Don't tell me you didn't practice safe sex, Sara! Even Joey knows better!"
"We tried to. Honest! But the condom broke the first time around, probably because the expiration date passed back when Clinton was still in office. After that, well, I didn't see much point in closing the barn door after the horse had escaped. Plus, Ian's healthy. That I'm sure of."
"Is there a chance you might be pregnant?"
"The timing is definitely right."
"So, that's why you turned down coffee!"
"Yeah. I didn't want mini-Ian to get all hopped up on caffeine, even though he's probably only a zygote at this point."
"Mini-Ian?"
"Yeah." Sara shrugged, smiling self-consciously. "I'm convinced it's gonna be a boy."
"Wow, Sara," Paula said, shaking her head in disbelief. "This is big news. I don't know what to say. How do you feel about this? You're remarkably calm."
"For some weird reason, I'm okay with it. It feels right. Insane, hunh?"
"How does Ian feel about it? Assuming you told him you might be pregnant, that is."
"Yeah, he knows there's a possibility. He's getting used to the idea. It's his father who's not gonna be thrilled when he finds out," Sara said absently.
"Why on earth not? Doesn't he approve of you?"
"Not really," Sara murmured, realizing she'd said too much.
"Then he's an idiot," Paula said firmly. "You'll make a wonderful mother. You know who's gonna be over the moon when she finds out, don't you?"
"Marie. God, don't remind me!" Sara groaned. "Especially since both of us insisted that we were just friends at dinner the other night. She's gonna have a field day with this."
"Poor Ian. She'll hound him into an early grave unless he makes an honest woman out of you. And the sooner the better."
Sara stared at her sister-in-law in open-mouthed surprise. "Me? Get married? To Ian?"
Paula laughed. "No, to George Clooney. Of course to Ian, silly." Then she noticed Sara's flabbergasted expression. "You two haven't discussed this have you?"
"No. Not even close."
"Well, it makes sense to wait until you find out for sure that you're pregnant before he pops the question," her sister-in-law said into the awkward silence that followed.
"Yeah," Sara muttered. "No use jumping the gun."
"Robbie would be thrilled if I managed to get pregnant again," Paula said. "We tried for years after Gina Marie was born, but no luck. But I keep hoping for a miracle."
"I seem to remember you suffered a couple of miscarriages after Joey was born," Sara said, glad of the change of subject.
"Yeah. Three. The doctors didn't think I could carry another baby to term. But a couple of months after Joey turned four, I found out I was pregnant again. We were so nervous we didn't tell anyone until I entered my second trimester. We didn't want to jinx it. I guess Gina Marie was our miracle. I wonder how many Thanksgiving Blizzard babies there'll be nine months from now," the older woman said wistfully. "Probably thousands."
"You'd actually go through the whole thing -- the weight gain, the strange food cravings, the mood swings, labor pains, 2:00 a.m. feedings, teething, the terrible twos, potty training, chicken pox, etc., etc. -- all over again at this stage of your life?" Sara asked her.
"In a heartbeat. I always wanted a big family. Robbie, too. I guess it just wasn't meant to be. What about you? You were an only child. Do you think you'll have more than one?"
"After that little scene between Joey and Gina Marie earlier, I think Ian is already thinking vasectomy," Sara said wryly. "Man, those two sure can bicker."
"Tell me about it. But just let anybody so much as look at Gina Marie wrong, and Joey comes to her rescue. He's always been like that. He might act like she's a pain in the butt, but he's very protective of her. I remember when she started kindergarten. She wasn't scared at all because Joey spent hours telling her all about what school was like so she'd know just what to expect. Even so, he stood outside her classroom for an hour that morning, just in case she became frightened," Paula said, smiling reminiscently. "Last year, when she caught a bad case of the flu, he was the one who cheered her up and fixed her her favorite foods in an effort to tempt her appetite. And when she fretted about missing school, he went and collected all of her assignments, helped her complete them, and even turned them in for her. Although he'd never admit it, he loves his kid sister," she chuckled. "Is Ian an only child, too?"
"Yeah."
"He's really good with kids. Both Gina Marie and Joey already adore him. I think he'll make a great father."
"He'll probably spoil the kids rotten to make up for his own upbringing. His father was a strict disciplinarian."
"What about his mother?"
"He never knew her. She died in a car accident when he was still an infant."
"Oh, poor kid. You both have quite a bit in common."
"Yeah, I guess we do."
"Do you love him?"
Sara met the other woman's gaze uneasily. "I think I might be falling in love with him," she said softly. "But how do you know if you're in love with somebody?"
"For one thing, you find yourself thinking about him all the time. And not just about how much you'd like to jump his bones, although that definitely comes into it! When you're apart, you often find yourself thinking 'I wonder if he's happy, sad, bored, or lonely, or if he misses me as much as I miss him.' You think about the way he smiles, or laughs, or the little crease he gets in his forehead when he's worried about something. You think about the way he smells right after he's played basketball for two hours in 90-degree heat, or right after he gets out of the shower, or right after you've made love.
"You think about how your eyes will sometimes meet across a crowded room, and you know exactly what he's thinking without him having to say a word. You think about the first time you saw him cry from sorrow, and how you'd do anything never to have to witness that again, but then you think about how he cried with joy when his children were born, and how you'd give anything to witness that again. You think about how awful it would be never to see his face again, or hear his voice, or touch him, or feel his touch, and you find yourself picking up the phone and calling his job just to reassure yourself that he's all right. You think about how even when you argue, you can hardly wait until you agree to disagree, so that you can make up. It's so true what they say about making up being the best part about fighting!" Paula flushed, laughing self-consciously. "At least that's how I knew I loved your brother. I guess it's slightly different with every person. Tell me something, Sara, how does Ian make you feel?"
Sara thought about this for a little while. "Safe. He makes me feel safe," she finally said, realizing that it was true. "I know without a doubt that he's got my back."
"That's a very good beginning. You already trust him with your life, but you're not yet sure if you can trust him with your heart," her sister-in- law said astutely.
"Yes. The thing is I don't know if I'll ever be sure," Sara whispered, and she was appalled to feel tears well up in her eyes. "He's already admitted that he's in love with me, but our lives are so . . . so complicated. Truth is, I'm terrified, Paula."
"Oh, Sara!" The older woman enveloped her in a warm, motherly embrace. "Give it time. You've only just found each other. Even Robbie and I didn't know we were meant to be together until after we graduated from college."
"Yeah, right. You both knew you were perfect for each other from the moment your mothers put you in that sandbox together when you were toddlers," Sara said, sniffling.
*Sara?* Ian sent a moment before he pushed open the door to the kitchen. *Are you all right? I sensed that you were upset.*
Sara pulled away from Paula, surreptitiously dashing the tears from her face. *I'm fine.* She grabbed a sponge and unnecessarily began wiping down the once again spotless countertop.
"I just came in to return this. It could use laundering," Ian said, and Sara saw that he held the apron he'd been wearing earlier.
"That reminds me," Sara said to Paula. "Do you mind if I do a few loads of laundry?" She could feel Ian's worried gaze on her face, but she refused to meet his eyes.
"No problem. You know where the machines are," Paula replied. "I'll finish up in here. The floor needs mopping, but I want to wait until everybody leaves before I tackle it."
"I don't mind doing it, Paula," Sara offered, but the other woman waved her off.
"That's okay. It needed a good mopping even before the Mad Pancake Cook and his assistant went to town," she grinned.
"Okay. Ian, will you help me bring the laundry downstairs?" Sara requested, heading for the coatroom.
"Certainly." He followed her into the small room and stuffed the apron into one of the pillow cases. *Why were you crying, Sara?*
*Hormones,* she responded shortly, grabbing one of the bags. *Get used to it.*
*****
More to come. Thanks a bunch for the much appreciated feedback everybody! Keep it coming, please!
Disclaimer: I don't own the Witchblade characters. They're the property of TNT and Top Cow. I'm just playing. Enjoy!
Author's Note: Sorry for the long delay between chapters. Real life insisted on intruding! Hopefully, I will have more soon.
*****
Chapter 51.
******
At 10:00 a.m. on the dot, Sara and Ian entered the main house through the unlocked side door, pausing in the coatroom to remove their outerwear.
"Morning, Joey!" Sara called to her nephew, who was standing at the kitchen island wearing an apron over a navy-blue sweat suit. "You can leave the laundry in here for now, Ian," she told Nottingham, who carried two pillowcases full of soiled bed linens, towels, and clothing. She dropped a third pillowcase onto the floor of the coatroom and took off her coat.
"Hey, Aunt Sara, hey, Ian," Joey greeted them. "You're early. I haven't even started cooking yet."
"Oh, good!" Ian said, taking off his coat and hanging it up without Sara's help. He was still wearing the sling for appearance's sake but had just proved beyond a shadow of doubt that he no longer needed it. "I was hoping that you would teach me how to make pancakes, Joseph," he told the teenager, entering the kitchen.
"Sure. They're really easy to make," the boy responded, "and I could use the help."
"Good morning, guys," Paula Siri said, coming into the kitchen carrying a coffee mug.
"Morning, Paula," Sara said, inhaling the tantalizing scent of fresh- brewed coffee longingly.
"Good morning, Paula," Ian greeted his hostess. "Joseph has agreed to teach me how to make pancakes, so I will be cooking alongside him if that is all right with you."
"That's great. Have fun. Can I get either of you some coffee?" Paula asked them, reaching for the coffee pot.
"A cup of Earl Grey tea would be most appreciated," Ian replied.
Paula nodded, taking the kettle off the stove and filling it with water before glancing inquiringly at Sara, who made a forlorn face.
"No coffee for me, thanks," she said, sighing heavily.
Her sister-in-law stared at her. "I must be hearing things. Did you actually just turn down coffee?"
Sara nodded self-consciously. "I'm trying to cut down," she mumbled, coloring. "You wouldn't happen to have any decaf, would you?"
"Well, it so happens that I brewed a pot of decaf for myself," her sister-in-law said, taking a couple of mugs from the mug tree on the countertop and pouring a cup for Sara.
"Thanks," Sara said, accepting it gratefully. 'I'll just pretend it's real coffee. Yeah, that's what I'll do,' she thought desperately. 'You can do this Pezzini. Think of mini-Ian.'
"Morning everybody," Robbie said, ambling into the kitchen. He was still wearing his pajamas and robe. "Mmmm, coffee please!" he said to his wife.
"Good morning, Robert," Ian said, watching intently as Joey dumped a cup of Bisquick into a large mixing bowl, followed by a cup of milk.
Paula poured her husband a mug of the real stuff. "Watch out," she whispered to him, "Sara's drinking decaf."
Robert's eyes widened. "Get out of town! What's up with that?" he whispered back at her.
"What's the big deal?" Sara grumbled, overhearing them. "I'm just trying to cut down on caffeine is all."
"It's just that you're such a coffee whore, Sara," her brother said.
Ian burst out laughing. "Sara the coffee whore! Perfect. I must remember that," he chuckled, but immediately sobered upon noticing that Sara was glaring daggers at him. *Um, did I mention that I love and admire you for the supreme sacrifice you're making on behalf of our unborn child?* he sent placatingly.
"Nice, Robbie, real nice," Sara said aloud. *Yeah, you say that now, Nottingham. Just wait until caffeine withdrawal sets in,* she replied privately. *Things could, and probably will, get ugly.*
"What's nice?" Gina Marie Siri inquired as she sauntered into the kitchen. She was wearing a bright pink, calf-length flannel nightgown that had the Power Puff girls on it. On her feet, were fuzzy pink bunny slippers. She went to the refrigerator and took out the orange juice.
"Now, don't be alarmed, Sweetie, but your Aunt Sara has decided to cut back on her caffeine. She's drinking decaf," Robert told his daughter. "Your mother and I will protect you."
"Good for you, Aunt Sara," the girl said, making a face. "I don't know how you can drink that nasty stuff anyway. One morning about a year ago, I snuck half a mug before I went to school. I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Well, at the end of the day, my teacher sent a note home with me saying she thought I was hyper! I just couldn't sit still or concentrate all morning!" She took a glass out of the cabinet over the sink and poured herself some OJ.
"Ahhh, so that's what that was all about!" Paula said, removing the whistling teakettle from the burner and pouring water over Ian's Earl Grey teabag. "I told your teacher she was mistaken."
"Actually, honey, I think your exact words were 'You're crazy, Ms. Marsh, my child doesn't have attention deficit hyperactivity disorder!'" Robert interjected.
"Oh, yeah, that's right. I probably owe her an apology," Paula murmured. She leveled a stern look at her daughter. "Young lady, you and I have to have a talk about 'experimenting.'"
"Just say no to drugs, Sis," Joey said, smirking. "There, I saved you the trouble, Mom."
"Yeah, right, Wiseass," Paula said, giving her son a playful smack upside the head. "Hey, it's after 10:00 and nothing's on the stove yet. You and Ian better get hopping!" she pointed out. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving."
"Ian's helping Joey?" Gina Marie said, grinning. "This I gotta see." She started to climb up onto one of the barstools on the other side of the kitchen island/breakfast bar, but Sara grabbed her by the sleeve of her nightgown.
"Uh-unh, no spectators allowed, Missy," she said. "This is Ian's first time making pancakes, and we wouldn't want him to get performance anxiety."
"That's right, Shrimp. Everybody out! We men have work to do!" Joey said, cracking an egg on the edge of the mixing bowl.
"Um, I do not believe eggshell is part of the recipe, Joseph," Sara heard Ian say softly as she started to follow her brother, sister-in-law, and niece out of the kitchen.
"Shhh, it's okay," Joey responded in a loud whisper. "I'll make sure Gina Marie gets the one with the shell in it. She loves crunchy pancakes."
As he'd obviously intended, his sister heard him. "You better not, Joey!" she yelled, pushing past her parents and Sara to storm back into the kitchen. "Mommy, maybe you should supervise," she whined to her mother. "I don't trust Joey not to put something yucky in my pancakes."
"I'm sure your brother was just joking, Sweetie," Paula said. "Isn't that right, Joey?"
The boy shrugged. "Whatever."
"He better be joking!" Gina Marie sniffed, watching with an eagle eye as he fished the shell fragment out of the bowl. "Just for that, you have to make me a chocolate chip smiley-face pancake, Joey," she told her brother. "With whipped cream and a cherry nose."
"I would be honored to make a special pancake for you, Princess," Ian volunteered. "But you will have to show me how."
"Sure," she said, smiling at him. "It's really easy."
Joey frowned, shaking his head. "Nah, that's okay, I'll show him how to make your stupid smiley-face pancake," he said. "Now, scram! The kitchen is off limits to midgets until we're done cooking."
"C'mon, Gina Marie," Paula said, forestalling another eruption from her scowling daughter. "The sooner we leave them be, the sooner we get to eat. Let's play Chinese checkers until breakfast is ready."
"All right, but he better not mess my pancake up," the girl grumbled following her mother from the kitchen.
*That's what you call sibling rivalry,* Sara sent to Ian as she headed for the living room. *I'm thinking we should stop at one kid, Witchblade be damned!*
*I tend to agree with you. Whew!* he replied. *However, Paula and Robert seem to take it in stride.*
*Years of practice, lover. Years of practice.*
For the next half an hour, Sara sat in the living room chatting with her brother, sister-in-law, and niece, trying her best to ignore the slight headache caused by caffeine deprivation. From the kitchen came intermittent bursts of Ian's distinctive husky laugh mingled with Joey's familiar chortle. At one point, she winced, flinching, as she heard something fall to the floor and shatter.
"Uh, slight accident with the mixing bowl," Joey called after a pregnant moment of silence. "But everything's under control!"
Paula and Robert both closed their eyes briefly before exchanging long-suffering glances.
"Told you somebody should have supervised," Gina Marie murmured. "But did anyone listen to me? Noooo."
*Do you need help in there, baby?* Sara sent.
*Um, I don't think so,* came Ian's distracted reply after a moment. *But this is harder than I thought it would be.*
*I'm sure you're doing fine.*
*Maybe you'd better reserve judgment until after you've tasted my pancakes,* he said ruefully. *Apparently, there's a knack to getting them to cook evenly, but I have yet to master it. Joey's, on the other hand, are enviably perfect. Breakfast will be ready shortly.*
The scent of bacon wafted into the room, and Sara's mouth watered.
"Let's go set the table, Gina Marie," Paula said, getting up from the braided rug and their game of Chinese checkers.
"Okay," her daughter agreed, rising.
A few minutes later the swinging door to the kitchen opened, and Joey entered the dining room carrying a loaded tray. "Breakfast is served!" he announced.
Right behind him came Ian, proudly holding a plate in his right hand, and Sara couldn't help but smile when she saw that he wore a red-and-white plaid apron that said "Kiss the Cook" on it.
"Okay," she murmured, going to him. Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed him.
"Mmmm, that was nice," he said when she broke off the kiss a long minute later.
Sara grinned to see that he'd somehow managed to get pancake batter in his hair. "Which pancakes are yours?" she asked, glancing at the food.
"The misshapen, under- or overcooked ones," he said wryly. "Except for this one." The plate he held contained an extra-large pancake. It had chocolate chips for its eyes and smiling mouth, a maraschino cherry nose, and chocolate whipped-cream hair, eyebrows, and, as an added bonus, a beard and mustache. "Here you go, Princess," Ian said, handing the plate to Gina Marie.
The 11-year-old grinned with delight. "Wow! He's perfect! Thanks, Ian!"
"Let's eat," Robbie said, sitting down and helping himself to the food, which also included scrambled cheesy eggs.
In addition to plain ones, there were also banana walnut and apple cinnamon pancakes. Sara praised Ian's efforts, informing him that his pancakes were pretty darn good given that this marked his first attempt at making them, adding that she herself couldn't have done any better and in all likelihood would have done far, far worse. Her family heartily agreed with her on the latter point -- just a tad too vigorously, she thought ruefully. Her almost total inability to cook was infamous.
Everybody made short work of the food. Patting her full tummy with satisfaction, Sara volunteered for cleanup duty, roping her niece into helping her.
"Uh, things got kinda messy in there," Joey warned them as the two of them started gathering up the dirty dishes. "It was mostly Ian's fault. He was just out of control," he claimed, straight-faced.
"Now, you know that is not true, Joseph," Ian said, shaking his head. "I did my best to clean up as we went along, but it was exceedingly difficult to do one-handed and I was thwarted at nearly every turn by the Mad Pancake Cook there."
"I'll bet," Sara smirked, backing up through the swinging door to the kitchen. When she turned around, she let out a gasp, nearly dropping the stack of plates and cutlery she held.
"Oh my God!" Gina Marie breathed, peering around her aunt. "This place is a disaster!"
It looked for all the world like a tornado had touched down in the formerly spotless kitchen.
"It's not as bad as it looks," Sara said faintly. "We'll have it cleaned up in no time."
"Yeah, right!" Gina Marie snorted. "Aunt Sara, Daddy and Joey have already gone upstairs to get ready to go sledding. Is it all right if I go get dressed, too? I promise I'll come right back and help out with the cleanup." She carefully placed the tray of glasses and mugs she carried onto the cluttered countertop, next to the plates and silverware.
Sara sighed. "Go on." *Nottingham, what'd you do, set off one of your grenades in here? Geez!*
*Sorry! Things sort of got out of hand. I'll come help you clean up, my love.*
*No, no, no. Relax, I got it covered. Rule is whoever doesn't cook has to clean up,* she told him. *But, damn! I shoulda known something was up when I heard all the laughter coming from in here. Thank God they have a dishwasher.*
"Looks like you could use a hand," Paula said, coming into the kitchen. "Where did Gina Marie go?"
"She's getting dressed to go sledding. She said she'd be right back," Sara told her.
"Yeah, fat chance. These days, she takes forever to get dressed. She's starting to become interested in boys, and there just might be boys at the park where they're going sledding. I'll load the dishwasher for you," Paula offered.
"Wait a sec, our little girl is interested in boys? That can't be! She's only 11!"
Paula shrugged. "Kids grow up faster and faster these days. Last week, she asked me if she could start wearing makeup!"
"No way!"
"Yes way." Paula opened the dishwasher and started stacking dishes into it while Sara began clearing off the island countertop/breakfast bar. "So, Ian isn't afraid to try his hand at cooking, hunh? I think he's a keeper, Sara!"
"Yeah. You should have seen him on the way over here. He was actually excited about the prospect of learning how to make pancakes. He makes a mean omelet, too."
"Definitely a keeper." Paula eyed her. "So, you made good use of those prophylactics I found in the apartment, hunh?"
Sara paused in the act of scraping congealed pancake batter off the stovetop. "Uh, well, sort of."
The other woman's brown eyes met hers quizzically. "What do you mean 'sort of'? Don't tell me you didn't practice safe sex, Sara! Even Joey knows better!"
"We tried to. Honest! But the condom broke the first time around, probably because the expiration date passed back when Clinton was still in office. After that, well, I didn't see much point in closing the barn door after the horse had escaped. Plus, Ian's healthy. That I'm sure of."
"Is there a chance you might be pregnant?"
"The timing is definitely right."
"So, that's why you turned down coffee!"
"Yeah. I didn't want mini-Ian to get all hopped up on caffeine, even though he's probably only a zygote at this point."
"Mini-Ian?"
"Yeah." Sara shrugged, smiling self-consciously. "I'm convinced it's gonna be a boy."
"Wow, Sara," Paula said, shaking her head in disbelief. "This is big news. I don't know what to say. How do you feel about this? You're remarkably calm."
"For some weird reason, I'm okay with it. It feels right. Insane, hunh?"
"How does Ian feel about it? Assuming you told him you might be pregnant, that is."
"Yeah, he knows there's a possibility. He's getting used to the idea. It's his father who's not gonna be thrilled when he finds out," Sara said absently.
"Why on earth not? Doesn't he approve of you?"
"Not really," Sara murmured, realizing she'd said too much.
"Then he's an idiot," Paula said firmly. "You'll make a wonderful mother. You know who's gonna be over the moon when she finds out, don't you?"
"Marie. God, don't remind me!" Sara groaned. "Especially since both of us insisted that we were just friends at dinner the other night. She's gonna have a field day with this."
"Poor Ian. She'll hound him into an early grave unless he makes an honest woman out of you. And the sooner the better."
Sara stared at her sister-in-law in open-mouthed surprise. "Me? Get married? To Ian?"
Paula laughed. "No, to George Clooney. Of course to Ian, silly." Then she noticed Sara's flabbergasted expression. "You two haven't discussed this have you?"
"No. Not even close."
"Well, it makes sense to wait until you find out for sure that you're pregnant before he pops the question," her sister-in-law said into the awkward silence that followed.
"Yeah," Sara muttered. "No use jumping the gun."
"Robbie would be thrilled if I managed to get pregnant again," Paula said. "We tried for years after Gina Marie was born, but no luck. But I keep hoping for a miracle."
"I seem to remember you suffered a couple of miscarriages after Joey was born," Sara said, glad of the change of subject.
"Yeah. Three. The doctors didn't think I could carry another baby to term. But a couple of months after Joey turned four, I found out I was pregnant again. We were so nervous we didn't tell anyone until I entered my second trimester. We didn't want to jinx it. I guess Gina Marie was our miracle. I wonder how many Thanksgiving Blizzard babies there'll be nine months from now," the older woman said wistfully. "Probably thousands."
"You'd actually go through the whole thing -- the weight gain, the strange food cravings, the mood swings, labor pains, 2:00 a.m. feedings, teething, the terrible twos, potty training, chicken pox, etc., etc. -- all over again at this stage of your life?" Sara asked her.
"In a heartbeat. I always wanted a big family. Robbie, too. I guess it just wasn't meant to be. What about you? You were an only child. Do you think you'll have more than one?"
"After that little scene between Joey and Gina Marie earlier, I think Ian is already thinking vasectomy," Sara said wryly. "Man, those two sure can bicker."
"Tell me about it. But just let anybody so much as look at Gina Marie wrong, and Joey comes to her rescue. He's always been like that. He might act like she's a pain in the butt, but he's very protective of her. I remember when she started kindergarten. She wasn't scared at all because Joey spent hours telling her all about what school was like so she'd know just what to expect. Even so, he stood outside her classroom for an hour that morning, just in case she became frightened," Paula said, smiling reminiscently. "Last year, when she caught a bad case of the flu, he was the one who cheered her up and fixed her her favorite foods in an effort to tempt her appetite. And when she fretted about missing school, he went and collected all of her assignments, helped her complete them, and even turned them in for her. Although he'd never admit it, he loves his kid sister," she chuckled. "Is Ian an only child, too?"
"Yeah."
"He's really good with kids. Both Gina Marie and Joey already adore him. I think he'll make a great father."
"He'll probably spoil the kids rotten to make up for his own upbringing. His father was a strict disciplinarian."
"What about his mother?"
"He never knew her. She died in a car accident when he was still an infant."
"Oh, poor kid. You both have quite a bit in common."
"Yeah, I guess we do."
"Do you love him?"
Sara met the other woman's gaze uneasily. "I think I might be falling in love with him," she said softly. "But how do you know if you're in love with somebody?"
"For one thing, you find yourself thinking about him all the time. And not just about how much you'd like to jump his bones, although that definitely comes into it! When you're apart, you often find yourself thinking 'I wonder if he's happy, sad, bored, or lonely, or if he misses me as much as I miss him.' You think about the way he smiles, or laughs, or the little crease he gets in his forehead when he's worried about something. You think about the way he smells right after he's played basketball for two hours in 90-degree heat, or right after he gets out of the shower, or right after you've made love.
"You think about how your eyes will sometimes meet across a crowded room, and you know exactly what he's thinking without him having to say a word. You think about the first time you saw him cry from sorrow, and how you'd do anything never to have to witness that again, but then you think about how he cried with joy when his children were born, and how you'd give anything to witness that again. You think about how awful it would be never to see his face again, or hear his voice, or touch him, or feel his touch, and you find yourself picking up the phone and calling his job just to reassure yourself that he's all right. You think about how even when you argue, you can hardly wait until you agree to disagree, so that you can make up. It's so true what they say about making up being the best part about fighting!" Paula flushed, laughing self-consciously. "At least that's how I knew I loved your brother. I guess it's slightly different with every person. Tell me something, Sara, how does Ian make you feel?"
Sara thought about this for a little while. "Safe. He makes me feel safe," she finally said, realizing that it was true. "I know without a doubt that he's got my back."
"That's a very good beginning. You already trust him with your life, but you're not yet sure if you can trust him with your heart," her sister-in- law said astutely.
"Yes. The thing is I don't know if I'll ever be sure," Sara whispered, and she was appalled to feel tears well up in her eyes. "He's already admitted that he's in love with me, but our lives are so . . . so complicated. Truth is, I'm terrified, Paula."
"Oh, Sara!" The older woman enveloped her in a warm, motherly embrace. "Give it time. You've only just found each other. Even Robbie and I didn't know we were meant to be together until after we graduated from college."
"Yeah, right. You both knew you were perfect for each other from the moment your mothers put you in that sandbox together when you were toddlers," Sara said, sniffling.
*Sara?* Ian sent a moment before he pushed open the door to the kitchen. *Are you all right? I sensed that you were upset.*
Sara pulled away from Paula, surreptitiously dashing the tears from her face. *I'm fine.* She grabbed a sponge and unnecessarily began wiping down the once again spotless countertop.
"I just came in to return this. It could use laundering," Ian said, and Sara saw that he held the apron he'd been wearing earlier.
"That reminds me," Sara said to Paula. "Do you mind if I do a few loads of laundry?" She could feel Ian's worried gaze on her face, but she refused to meet his eyes.
"No problem. You know where the machines are," Paula replied. "I'll finish up in here. The floor needs mopping, but I want to wait until everybody leaves before I tackle it."
"I don't mind doing it, Paula," Sara offered, but the other woman waved her off.
"That's okay. It needed a good mopping even before the Mad Pancake Cook and his assistant went to town," she grinned.
"Okay. Ian, will you help me bring the laundry downstairs?" Sara requested, heading for the coatroom.
"Certainly." He followed her into the small room and stuffed the apron into one of the pillow cases. *Why were you crying, Sara?*
*Hormones,* she responded shortly, grabbing one of the bags. *Get used to it.*
*****
More to come. Thanks a bunch for the much appreciated feedback everybody! Keep it coming, please!