Dreaming of His Snowed In Kiss - Jessie Gussman Page 0,27
is sweet. (Come on over to the dark side.)
Her laugh was drowned out by splashing in the tub, and she walked into the bathroom holding her phone, putting the toilet seat down and sitting on it.
“Looks like you might be making pancakes for breakfast tomorrow,” she said as Hazel carefully used the eggbeater in a bowl half full of water.
“Uh huh,” Hazel said, her face not quite as pinched as it had been earlier, although her lips had not turned up. “Blueberry pancakes.”
“Oh. Blueberry are my favorite too. Are you going to share?”
The eggbeater stopped, and Hazel’s eyes lifted, her face solemn. “Yes. I share.”
“Maybe I can find some spaghetti sauce in the cupboard to put on the pancakes.”
“Ugh,” Hazel wrinkled her nose. “You don’t put skettie sauce on pancakes. You need syrup.”
“Well, I guess we’ll have to make some syrup then. How do you do that?” Poppy said, fingering her phone and wondering if she might get a smile out of her sister tonight yet.
The narrow shoulders went up in a quick shrug. “You need a recipe book. It will tell you how.”
“Maybe I can look it up on the Internet.”
“The Internet lies.”
Hmm. “It does about some things. You have to use your brain when you’re using the Internet. But it probably tells us how to make syrup.”
“Don’t you have a recipe?”
“I suspect there isn’t one for syrup. Probably we should buy it at the store. I can make peanut butter though. Are you sure you don’t want that on your pancakes?”
“Ooo. That’s gross like spaghetti sauce. Peanut butter is yucky on pancakes.”
“How do you know? Have you tried it?”
Hazel’s brows lowered, and her head shook slowly back and forth.
“Don’t you think you should try it before you tell me you don’t like it?”
“That just sounds yucky.”
“Actually, what sounds yucky is pickles and pancakes. Especially pickles and blueberry pancakes. Pickles and strawberry pancakes might not be too bad.”
“I like pickles.”
“Then we’ll have pickles and pancakes for breakfast in the morning.”
“Can we have syrup too?”
“Maybe I can find some syrup.”
That seemed to satisfy Hazel, and she poured the water from the pan she was working in into a measuring cup before pouring it into the other pan, carefully, like she was actually measuring it.
Poppy watched, her mind half on her sister, and ways to get her to smile, and half on West’s text.
Hazel focused on pouring her water, so Poppy took a minute to send another text.
Never. You might have won the battle, but read the back of the book. I win the war.
Maybe she was feeling a little smug over that text. More smug than she should be feeling, except it was West, and she knew he’d take it the way she meant it.
She was thinking about West, and she almost fell off the toilet when her phone buzzed in her hand. A call from Miss Penny.
“Hello?” she said, a little breathlessly, since the call had startled her.
“Hello, Poppy. I had something I wanted to ask you, but I also wanted to know how things went with your mother and Hazel today?”
Poppy gave her a brief summary of what the doctor had said about her mother and the fact that Hazel was with her now as she got up and walked out of the bathroom. She didn’t want Hazel to hear and be upset.
After Poppy had finished, Penny didn’t say anything for a bit.
Poppy ran her finger along the handle of the refrigerator, trying to keep out the thoughts that wanted to crowd into her brain.
Thoughts that were unhelpful. Like, why did this have to be her life? Why couldn’t she have normal parents? A mom and a dad? Why did she have to be the one who had a tragedy? And why was it so, so hard to be positive?
“So, you have Hazel for now. Are you keeping her?” Penny asked a little hesitantly.
“It looks like it. I guess we just kind of left it up in the air. When I tried to talk to Mom, all she did was cry. But the doctor told me that she was willing to sign away guardianship to me.” She hesitated, unsure whether or not she could admit this. “I’m not sure I want it.”
She could hear Miss Penny’s deep sigh all the way through the phone.
“I can’t say I understand. I don’t think there are too many people in the world who could understand. Not too many have been through tragedy like you. But I can see where that thought