“That’s right,” Jensen told him. “We’re going to go home and have some cherry pie.”
“Yes,”Henry agreed, hugging Dusty under his chin.
“Okay, buddy,” Jensen said. “Here we go.”
He could tell by Henry’s snuggling that he was going to be lucky to get him home before he fell asleep.
“Let’s put on some music,” Jensen said, flipping on the radio.
The local station was playing all-Christmas-music, all-the-time during the holidays, just like when he was a kid. “Deck the Halls” was on, and the cheerful strains filled the truck.
“Do you know this one, bud?” Jensen asked Henry, pausing for a moment before continuing. “It’s about decorating the house for Christmas and putting on your nice clothes so you look extra sharp.”
He glanced in the mirror, and Henry was smiling at him over Dusty’s head.
Jensen didn’t really expect Henry to reply most of the time. The pediatrician had said that just talking with him conversationally and giving him space to answer would encourage him to communicate more verbally when he was ready.
He tells me how he feels with his expressions,Jensen reminded himself.He’ll talk more when he’s ready.
Jensen kept up a steady stream of conversation about the music all the way home, even singing for a bit when an Elvis song came on, which made Henry giggle.
By the time they got there, his sweet toddler was still awake, but very sleepy. Jensen was happy that he managed to get him upstairs and into cozy pajamas before he nodded off.
When Jensen came back downstairs, he remembered that Willow’s pie was still in the truck, so he jogged out to get it. He meant to just put it in the fridge, but the breeze picked up on his way back inside, carrying the delicious scent of the sweet treat to him.
“Just one slice,” he told himself quietly as he headed back inside.
The house in the Trinity Falls countryside that he bought just after Henry was born wasn’t especially big, but it had a nice front porch, and lots of windows.
When Jensen first came home from the hospital after losing Lara, he had longed for space, especially with a preemie to care for. The old city apartment had been fine before the tragedy, but afterward he felt cooped up. The place was too small for him to pace in as he inwardly raged at the injustice of it all whenever Henry slept. And he found himself worrying about disturbing the neighbors instead of just feeling secretly grateful every time tiny Henry showed off his strong young lungs, screaming his head off for night feedings.
So he’d bought this place sight-unseen with the help of a local agent, in spite of the old carpet, peeling paint, and other issues she’d warned him about.
At the time, it was the only place available that was close to family, and Jensen had been desperate to get back to Trinity Falls with his son.
Two and a half years later, he had channeled much ofhis energy and sadness into renovating the house bit by bit. In some ways it felt like a tribute to Lara. He painted the living room pale yellow for her favorite color and installed birch cabinets in the kitchen because of that one time, years ago, that she had folded over the page of one of her magazines to a spread showing a birch kitchen.
Back then, he’d been working in the corporate world, and they’d planned to stay in the city until their unborn baby was school age, putting away as much in savings as they could.
“But a girl can dream about the future,” she would tell him as she buried herself in her home decor books.
Sadly, Lara only ever got to see their future in those dreams. He liked to think that she would have approved of him hightailing it out here with Henry when he did. It didn’t feel right to stay in the city when he was suddenly a single dad, without support.
But he would never know. She would never shout out a declaration of approval or start a fierce debate with him again.
Shaking his head to clear it, he strode into the kitchen and placed the pie box on the counter.
Afternoon sunlight filled the space, highlighting the fingerpainted masterpieces that covered the fridge. Jensen loved watching Henry’s face when he made art. His little brow furrowed with concentration as his fingers swirled and dotted the paper.
Every parent probably thought their child was a miracle, but to Jensen, Henry was so much more than that. He was Jensen’s whole world, and seeing him content and engaged never failed to fill his heart.
We’re okay,he reminded himself.He’s happy, and that’s what matters.
He grabbed a knife from the drawer and opened the white cardboard box, revealing the familiar sight of his favorite pie. The Cassidy bakery didn’t bother with fussy latticework or messy crumble toppings, this sturdy cherry pie was covered with a hearty crust that hugged the contours of the berries beneath, so rich that it practically melted in your mouth.
Jensen cut a thick wedge and ate it right there over the sink, looking out the back window at the bird feeder he’d set up last winter. As the flavors of the tangy-sweet dessert burst in his mouth, he watched a cardinal hop around in the snow under the feeder, happily snatching up the seeds that had spilled over the edge of the box when the chipmunks that lived in the old downspout got into it.
And he found himself thinking of Willow again, her bright blue eyes, and the way she peeked at him from behind that curtain of dark hair.
