Chapter 19: Becoming Family
1437 Words
Fall came to the neighborhood like a favorite quilt.
The mornings became chilly enough for hoodies.
The afternoons remained warm enough for little feet to race barefoot through the yard.
The chickens learned the routine.
Every morning, Nugget demanded breakfast as if she’d gone days without human interaction.
Every evening Lavender insisted on putting herself to bed first.
Biscuit provided commentary on everything with an endless stream of clucks.
And Daisy remained everyone’s silent favorite.
Life was ordinary…in the best way possible.
Craig’s Saturdays
Saturday became unofficially known as “Craig Day.”
Well. No one ever officially named it.
It just sort of happened.
Some Saturdays they’d work in the garden.
Others drove back roads with windows down, singing along to whatever happened to be playing.
Some Saturdays they didn’t do anything at all.
This Saturday began with pancakes.
The youngest stepped carefully around the kitchen counter, dumping chocolate chips into the batter.
Craig glanced over.
“I said a handful.”
The kid smirked.
“I have small hands.”
Craig peered into the mixing bowl.
“I think your definition of small needs to change.”
The oldest snickered.
“Mom, you’re still learning how to let him.”
“I know.”
A Driving Lesson
The oldest daughter strolled out to the porch after breakfast, cradling a set of car keys.
“Mom?”
Becca glanced up from her coffee mug.
“I need to practice driving.”
Smiling, Becca said, “Well, we can go this afternoon.”
The teen paused, then looked over at Craig.
“Would you…you could come too?”
Everyone stared. Mostly Craig.
“Me?”
She nodded vigorously. “You don’t freak out.”
Becca fought the urge to chuckle.
“Me freak out?” She replied without missing a beat. “You GASP.”
“You do not.”
“I totally do.”
Craig grinned.
“I’d be honored.”
The Empty Parking Lot
Later that afternoon, they drove to the empty parking lot of the local high school.
The teenager climbed nervously into the driver’s seat.
Craig scooted into the passenger seat.
Becca sat quietly in the back seat.
“You good to go?” Craig asked.
“No.”
“Great.” She looked over at him.
“Great?!” She scoffed.
“No one is ever ready the first time they drive.”
He chuckled softly. “We’re just going to learn.”
Her first lap around the parking lot was dismal. To say the least.
The second lap was marginally better.
By lap five, the teen was chuckling.
“I didn’t hit a curb!” She yelled over the silence that followed.
Craig nodded with pride.
“That’s awesome. Don’t curb dawdle.” Slow down and look at curbs... is what he wanted to say.
The teenager laughed.
“You make everything sound so positive.”
“It’s a lot easier to learn when you aren’t scared you’re going to mess up.”
Becca watched quietly from the back seat.
She realized Craig wasn’t teaching her daughter how to drive.
He was teaching her how to believe she could learn new things.
The Middle Child
Shortly after that, the middle child wandered into the garage where Craig was sorting tools.
“What are you working on?”
Craig glanced up at the noise.
“Nothing.” He shrugged.
“Oh.” She pondered for a moment. “Wanna help?”
He nodded enthusiastically. Craig rummaged through a box of wood scraps and pulled out a piece of cedar.
“Ever build a birdhouse?”
“Um, nope.”
“Well, you’re lucky because today we are.”
The next two hours were spent measuring.
Sanding.
Hammering.
Laughing when one side of the house came out slightly crooked.
“It’s not perfect,” the middle child said dejectedly.
Craig laughed.
“Good.”
“What?”
“It’ll show that it was made by hand.”
The girl stared down at their mediocre creation.
“I like that.”
“So do I.”
The Youngest
Sunday rolled around and brought rain with it.
The kind of rain that gently tapped against windows.
The youngest bundled up on the couch with a blanket and a favorite show.
“Craig?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you read to me?”
Craig grabbed the children’s chapter book they had been working on together the night before.
“Of course.”
About halfway through the story, the youngest fell asleep against his shoulder.
Book still open. Tiny hands still clasped around his arm.
Craig didn’t budge. Didn’t shift her off even when his leg fell asleep.
Becca peeked out of the kitchen doorway.
“She’s asleep,” she said calmly.
“I know.”
“Come on. You can move her.”
Craig shook his head, looking down at the little girl in his lap.
“No. I’ll wait.”
Melissa Notices
Hours later, Melissa arrived to drop off a casserole dish.
She wandered into the living room just as the youngest mumbled something incoherent before hopping off Craig’s lap.
“Bye, Craig!” She shouted.
He watched her skip off to her room. “See you tomorrow!”
Without hesitation, the girl hugged Craig, then dashed upstairs.
Melissa watched the exchange silently, then, once she was out of view, crept up behind Becca.
“When did she start doing that?”
“What?” Becca asked, confused.
Melissa smirked. “Trust him like that.”
Becca glanced up towards the stairs.
“I don’t think we noticed.”
Craig calmly mentioned from the couch. “I didn’t want you to.”
They both spun around to see him smiling softly.
“If they ever trusted me…” He shrugged. “I wanted them to just come to it naturally.”
“So naturally that you didn’t even realize it.”
The Question
That night, after Craig left, the oldest lingered in the kitchen as Becca washed dishes.
“Mom?” She began quieting, washing her hands.
“Hmm?”
“Can I ask you something?”
Becca snuck a smile at her oldest. “Of course.”
The girl took a drying dish towel and wiped the plate clean.
“Do you love him?”
Becca paused for a moment, taking in her words.
“Of course, I do.”
She nodded her head.
“Good.” She chuckled.
“Why?”
“Because you laugh again.”
Surprised by the simple response, Becca’s heart skipped.
“I mean… well you also…”
Her daughter held eye contact with her then shook her head.
“I don’t worry when he’s here.”
Becca turned the water faucet off.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know…”
She hung her head, staring at the dish towel she was holding. “When Dad was home, I always knew what kind of night it was going to be.”
Becca felt a pang in her chest.
“What do you mean?”
“I know.” She took a deep breath in before exhaling. “I don’t worry about that anymore.”
Understanding crept into her eyes and into her heart.
The Becoming of Family
Becca stood outside on the porch long after everyone had gone to bed.
Craig had texted her a picture.
It was the crooked bird house he helped build with the middle child that afternoon.
Perched up high on the oak tree in their front yard.
Think the future occupants will approve? He’d asked.
If Nugget doesn’t claim it as her own first, she’d respond.
Another text quickly followed.
She’s already inspecting her options.
Becca laughed softly at herself.
She stared at the sky. At the birdhouse. At the chicken coop they had built together.
At the flowers Biscuit dug up.
At the porch Craig had sat on discussing life with her more times than she could count.
Family, she realized as her eyes wandered around, wasn’t created in one large moment.
It wasn’t decided by a last name or a piece of paper.
Family was built in a million little ways.
Showing up Sunday afternoons for DIY projects.
Birdhouses covered in bright popsicle sticks.
Reading books on the couch until your loved one fell asleep.
Listening without trying to fix everything.
Laughing around the breakfast table over chocolate chips in pancake batter.
Simply staying.
Every.
Single.
Day.
And somewhere between ordinary Saturday mornings…
And rainy Sunday afternoons…
Craig stopped feeling like he came to visit.
Without telling anyone.
Without announcing it to the world…
Craig had become family.
- Writer
