Epilogue

“You’re late,” Lily said, looking up from the stove. She was barefoot, with baggy shorts that barely showed underneath one of Anna’s button-down shirts. Her blond hair hung into her eyes, evidence it had been too long since she had made time to get to the salon. She had her hands full at home with Eleanor and George, who at three years old, were too young for the preschool in Westwood.

“That’s because I stopped to pick up ice cream.”

Lily shook her head and sighed with resignation. One of her ongoing complaints was that she had never quite recovered her figure from when the twins were born. “Why do you torture me like this?”

“I’ve learned that torture—properly applied—makes you quite happy.” She dropped to a squat to catch Eleanor in a hug as she raced into the kitchen from the dining room, which was wall-to-wall toys. With gangly arms and legs and prominent cheekbones, her daughter looked more like her every day.

“Eleanor swam across the shallow end all by herself today.”

“That’s my girl!” Anna ignored Lily’s faux cranky mood and embraced her from behind, groaning as she saw what was in the pot. “Please tell me that isn’t what I think it is.”

“Andy needs a pick-me-up. He had a tough day.”

“What happened?”

“The kids were teasing him at school.”

“Not the lesbian thing again. You’d think people would get over that already.” One of the kids in Andy’s second-grade class had teased him year before last.

“No, it was—”

“Stop it, Georgie! Give me that back,” Andy yelled from the family room.

“Uh-oh.” Anna went in to see about the ruckus.

“He took my car,” Andy pouted.

George, who was small and blond like Lily but with the dark complexion of his Latino father, appeared to be starting a competing garage on the other side of the cramped family room.

“Which one do you want back?” Her implication was that Andy might consider sharing a few from his massive collection.

“The Vette.”

“Hmm.” Anna picked up another car from George’s purloined stash and swapped him for the Vette in his hand, and handed it to Andy. “I might have chosen the Porsche, pal.”

“They’re all mine.”

“I know, and that’s what makes you such a great brother. Georgie is lucky because you share your toys.”

“He’s not my brother.”

“Excuse me?” She invoked her stern voice, the one that meant she had heard clearly but wanted an explanation.

“He’s not my brother because I’m adopted.”

“Of course he’s your brother. Just because we—”

“Dinner’s ready!”

“Come on, pal. We’ll talk about this while we eat. Mama cooked something special just for you.” She nudged him up from the floor and turned back to George. “Let’s go, son. Mama’s calling.”

“Mrs. Rueggle sent a note home,” Lily whispered as the children took their places at the table. “They were talking about different kinds of families and he told his classmates he was adopted. Some of the other kids started saying they had real families.” Anna bristled. “Kids can be cruel.”

“She set them straight, but she said he had his feelings hurt and might need a little reassurance at home. Judging from his mood since he came home I’d say she was right.”

They had remodeled their breakfast nook to seat the whole family, still favoring the cozy kitchen over the formal dining room. Now the padded bench that lined the bay window seated Andy on the inside, Eleanor on one end and Anna on the other. George preferred sitting in a regular chair, as did Lily.

Anna rubbed her hands together. “Yum! I see we’re having mac and cheese again.”

Andy knew she didn’t like his favorite dish, so when he didn’t respond at all to her remark, it was a sure sign he was genuinely depressed about the events of the day.

Lily leaned over to cut Eleanor’s chicken strips. “Andy, I told Mom we were having macaroni tonight because you had a tough day and I thought it would cheer you up.”

“I don’t like macaroni,” Eleanor said, making a horrid face.

“I do,” George announced seconds before he shoveled an enormous spoonful into his mouth.

“Not such a big bite, Georgie,” Anna said, pulling his plate closer so she could cut his meat. “So what happened today, Andy? Does this have anything to do with what you said about Georgie not being your brother?”

Andy remained glum, only picking at his food. “He isn’t. I’m adopted and he was born.”

“You were born too, honey,” Lily said. “But you grew in my sister’s tummy.”

“But Georgie and Eleanor grew in your tummy, so they aren’t my real brother and sister.”

“Wait a minute,” Anna said. “It doesn’t matter whose tummy you came from. Families are connected by love.”

“That’s right,” Lily chimed in. “And we all love each other, so that makes us a family.”

Andy looked directly at Anna and asked her pointedly, “How come you always call me pal and you call Georgie son?”

Stung by the indictment, she consciously held her casual expression to mask her hurt. “Those are just nicknames. I’ve always called you my pal. I thought you liked it.”

“I do,” he admitted, his voice small and seemingly contrite.

“You and Georgie are both my sons, and you are both my pals. Eleanor’s my pal too.”

“I want more macaroni,” George said, prompting Anna to scrape hers quickly onto his plate before Lily could get up for more.

“But Russell said real families all had the same blood.”

“Russell’s wrong,” Lily said indignantly.

“He said he got his blood from both his mom and his dad. Who did I get mine from?”

Anna set her fork down. “Okay, it’s like this. We’re all connected by blood.” She pushed aside her plate. “Everybody put down your spoon or fork.”

Andy complied and rested his hands in his lap. Anna practically wrestled George’s spoon from his hand and set it out of reach. “You can have it back in a minute. Okay, we’ll start with Mama. She and her sister had the same blood, right?”

Andy nodded.

“And since you grew in her sister’s tummy, that means you have the same blood as Mama.”

That realization brightened his face. “We share the same blood?”

“That’s right, so I want you and Mama to hold hands.”

Lily reached across the table and took Andy’s hand.

“All right, now it gets a little complicated.” How did one explain in vitro fertilization to a nine-year-old? “Georgie grew in Mama’s tummy and he came from her blood. So Georgie, I want you to hold Mama’s other hand, okay?”

George did, and now he, Lily and Andy were connected.

“You and Georgie and Mama share the same blood, right?”

Andy nodded, obviously spellbound.

“Eleanor grew in Mama’s tummy too, but she came from my blood.” Anna stretched across the table to reach for her daughter. “Take my hand, sweetie.”

Now Anna and Eleanor were connected, but the most difficult aspect of the link remained—the sperm donor.

“Before a baby can grow in someone’s tummy, it has to have blood from a woman, like Mama or me”—she watched Andy’s eyes to see if he was following along—“and blood from a man. We don’t know who that man was. The doctor did that part while we weren’t looking. But she took blood from the same man to give to Georgie and Eleanor. That means Georgie and Eleanor are connected to each other by blood too. Georgie, take your sister’s other hand.”

George hoisted himself onto his knees to stretch across the table.

“So look what we have, Andy.” What they had looked like an octopus in the middle of the kitchen table. “You’re connected to Mama. She’s connected to Georgie.”

Andy started to mouth the words along with her.

“Georgie’s connected to Eleanor. And she’s connected to you!” By the look on his face, he was thrilled by the proof they all were related by blood.

“That was a pretty amazing story,” Lily said, giving her a satisfied nod.

Anna was indeed pleased with herself, but the point Lily had made earlier was still more important than her little demonstration. “But Russell’s still wrong, Andy. Even if we weren’t connected by blood, we’re a family because we all love each other.”

George lunged for his spoon.

“And you know Georgie’s your brother because he likes mac and cheese as much as you do, right?”

“Right.” Andy dug into his dinner enthusiastically.

When she got up to help clear the table for ice cream, Lily tugged her aside for a quick kiss. “Have I ever told you I think you’re brilliant?”

“Not nearly enough.”

“Maybe when the kids go to bed we can lock the door and I’ll tell you some more.”

“Promises, promises,” Anna said. “Once we turn the lights out, you never want to talk about my brain.”