The Path To Us - Jennifer Van Wyk Page 0,18

bounce on my knee and she rewards me with the barest of smiles. “Sure thing. Help us clean up first, though, okay?”

She nods and we put away the dirty dishes into the dishwasher.

As we’re walking outside to our cars, I tell them I’ll see them over at my parents’ house but Zoey breaks down, wondering why we can’t go together.

“Because my pickup is here, honey. If we ride together, I won’t have my vehicle at Nana and Papa’s after you and your mommy leave to come back home.”

That explanation does nothing to satisfy her and only makes her cry harder. “But you can’t go by yourself! You can’t!”

Maybe it’s wrong to give in to her so easily and quickly, but I can’t deny her what she needs. Not right now, anyway. Now’s definitely not the time for tough love. “Okay, okay. We’ll ride together. How about you climb in with me?”

Zoey nods, still sniffling. I grab her booster seat from Addy’s small SUV and after getting it situated in my back seat, we take the short trip over to my parents’ house. Only Max’s large pickup sits in the driveway so I pull in next to it. My mom rushes out of the house before I can even get Zoey’s door open and takes over, pulling her from the cab as quickly as she can and hugging her tightly.

“How’s my baby girl? Nana missed you!”

“I just saw you yesterday, Nana!” Zoey giggles when Mom buries her face in her neck and I swear my heart almost explodes from my chest at hearing her little girl laughter. Since I arrived on their doorstep last night, she’s been so sad, rightfully so, and to hear her displaying a little bit of happiness now is everything I was missing.

Addy wipes away a tear and we follow Mom and Zoey into the house.

Mom places a plastic container of cookies on the table. I’m positive she pulled them out of the freezer — she always makes extra batches of cookies and stores them in the freezer to have on hand. These just happen to be Chris’s favorite. Peanut butter cookies with a chocolate star pressed into the center. Whenever Mom made them, he’d tackle us if we tried to eat them, claiming them all for himself. He’d be able to eat a dozen in only a few minutes. Peanut butter blossoms, my mom always called them. The sight of the innocent cookies makes me pause. I stare at the container heaping full of my brother’s favorite treat, the same one that he would have for his birthday instead of cake, and all the breath leaves my lungs. Why would she put those out? Now? When the sting of losing him is still so real? I feel Addy at my back but it does nothing to calm my irrational anger over a dessert item. She places a hand on my forearm and whispers, “They’re just cookies. It’s okay.”

“They’re more than cookies,” I quietly growl.

She nods, looking at my mom who keeps hugging Zoey. “I know. But right now, they are.”

“Have a seat, you two.”

Rather than obey, I take Zoey to the pantry and help her pick out a snack. She might have just eaten breakfast, but it’s something to occupy myself.

“Your dad has been on the phone with the funeral home this morning. We’re supposed to go over there this afternoon for the arrangements. We’d like it if you both could be there.”

“Of course,” I reply, handing Zoey a small bag of Goldfish crackers. She grins up at me.

Addy, though, isn’t so quick to agree. “What about Zoey?”

With Addy’s mom gone and her dad never in the picture, she and Zoey’s only family is ours and she doesn’t leave her with babysitters often, if ever, from what I understand. Mainly because if she needed a night away, she would do so on the nights Christopher had Zoey.

“Max’s girl is here and said she would hang out with her.”

Max has been with his girlfriend, Amelia, for a few years now and she has been really good with Zoey.

“Max doesn’t want her with him?”

Mom fiddles with the edge of the yellow and white striped tablecloth. “He knows you need to be there and Amelia would be happy to spend a few hours with Zoey.”

Dad, Max, and Amelia walk into the kitchen and Dad swiftly lifts Zoey up, hugging her tightly. “Papa, you squishin’ me!”

“Can’t help it, Zo-Zo. I need my fix.”

“Papa,” she says, giggling again and squirming to

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