we loved with a love that was more than love // JENLISA

24

finally fixed the chapter numbering on this story. yay me?

//

-Lisa-

The nights are finally getting warmer.

It's your favorite time of year -- the muggy transition from spring to summer. Jennie thinks you're crazy. She loves the start of spring, when brave daffodils push up through the last remnants of snow. But for you, the end of spring -- when the days start getting noticeably longer and May gives way to June -- wins out.

Maybe it's a trust thing. At this time of year it's finally safe to go out all day without bringing a jacket or a flannel just in case the temperature dips.

Besides, warm nights mean dinners on the back patio.

Jennie fell in love with this little blue house the moment the realtor opened the door, but you weren't sold right away. It was hard to see past the scuffed floors and laminate countertops, and you were about to write it off when you looked out the kitchen windows to the back yard.

Back then, calling it a patio would've been generous. You could barely see the paving stones through the bunches of weeds growing between them, and the trellis overhead looked on the dangerous side of rickety, but you immediately got a sense of its potential.

It took weeks of blood, sweat, and tears to make the patio halfway decent, but you loved every moment of it. Even before you'd saved enough to buy outdoor furniture, you and Jennie took to spending the summer nights sitting cross-legged on the sun-warmed bricks and drinking cheap wine from dixie cups.

You couldn't imagine being happier.

***

Tonight, as you help your wife and daughter carry dessert outside, you know that there's no ceiling on happiness.

Ella places the bowl of whipped cream on the table with a theatrical sigh (a new habit she definitely learned from her Mama).

"We should get one of those mixers that they have in baking class."

"That would be easier," Jennie says, laughing. "But my mom always said whisking by hand makes everything taste better. Not to mention that all that hard work will make your arms extra strong."

El flexes her right arm and giggles when Jennie lets out a low whistle.

"And that's how they made whipped cream before electricity," you say, making your history-buff kid's eyes light up. "So it's the most authentic method, really."

Jennie grins at you and winks. You both know the real reason you can't entertain the thought of buying a standing mixer is that a decent one would cost more than the baking class itself. And you're still paying off the flights to London, which you split among three credit cards. But Ella doesn't need to know that.

"I saw an old ice cream churner on the History Channel yesterday," El says. "Maybe we should make authentic rocky road next week."

You and Jennie gape at her as she scoops a pile of strawberries onto her plate, topping it off with a healthy dollop of whipped cream. You're not totally sure if she's serious until a giddy smirk creeps across her face. Jennie tosses a strawberry slice at her and El shrieks.

Maybe you'll think otherwise during her teenage years, but right now you can't imagine Ella being sarcastic with you will ever get old. You know from experience how much trust it takes for a foster kid to let their guard down this much.

"I miss baking class. And not just because of the mixers." El smiles at both of you, biting her strawberry-stained bottom lip. "I think that was my best Christmas gift."