Valentine’s Bonus Scenes from Your Favorite Authors Part 1

Kim Holden

Saturday, February 13^th

Gus (the dude) ten years after Gus (the book)

“Dad, are you sure we shouldn’t call Grandma?” Gracen asks, a hint of apology swirling around the doubt in his voice. He knows we’re standing on the precipice of monumental failure, and possible house torching, before we even unpack the groceries. Of all my kids, he’s the fixer, the problem solver.

“Pfft.” I wave off his concern with all the kitchen swagger I can muster and then kneel holding out my hand palm down and say, “We’ve got this. Huddle up, team.”

The first hand to slap down on top of mine in a bold move of solidarity is my oldest kiddo, Kate, followed by her younger sister, Clover. After a beat, the little peanut, Ruby toddles over on shaky newborn deer legs (because she just started walking last week) and copycats her sisters by placing her tiny, but overly sticky, hand on top and giggles.

Clover cringes because sticky fingers are now affixed to her like super glue, but to her credit she valiantly keeps the, Gross, that she badly wants to give voice, to herself.

I catch Clover’s eye and whisper, “It’s banana. My bad, sorry.”

Gracen is still eyeballing the scene. “Are you sure we shouldn’t call Grandma? Or Uncle Keller? Stella? Paxton, maybe?” He’s grasping at straws now because Pax lives over one thousand miles away in Austin. And he’s a worse cook than I am. “We can Skype,” he adds with a weak grimace.

“Dude, every trailblazer has to start somewhere. The road to baking greatness begins here and now. We’re about to be part of history, my friend.”

He places his hand on top of the sticky twelve month old’s and deadpans with a genuine smile because he can’t hold back, “We’re only baking cookies, Dad.”

He knows he’s baited me, so I widen my eyes for effect and question, “Only baking cookies? Oh no, we’re baking nothing short of magic, amigo.” His smile stretches until I can see all of his teeth. Or what’s left of them because he’s been losing them right and left. It’s adorable. The tooth fairy is bank rolling him at the moment; I may need a second part-time job to keep up with the gig. “Okay, you know the drill. We need a team name before we get this show on the road. Hit me with your best, superstars.”

“Hawthorne Badass Baking Brigade,” Kate suggests hopefully, but with a confidence that makes it sound more like a declaration. A proud declaration. My girl has never been lacking in family pride, an incredibly strong sense of girl power (you don’t grow up with a mom like Scout and a grandma like Ma and not own the hell out of it), or charisma.

I nod aggressively in agreement, but then stop when I realize I should probably kibosh the swearing. I point at her with my free hand. “Yes! That is exactly the type of hype this production needs. But maybe without the curse word. For your mom’s sake,” I add as an afterthought.

She nods understanding and her eyes rove, fixing on nothing while she’s deep in eight year old thought.

Meanwhile Clover’s cringe is growing more exaggerated with each passing second as her fingers wiggle beneath the gooey banana digits of her sibling. She hates being dirty, I feel bad for her, so I offer, “We’re going with Kate’s suggestion. No one tells mom, agreed?” When I look each of my kids they’re all nodding and smiling conspiratorially and I both mentally high five their mischievous nature and make a note to thank their mom profusely for being such a good influence in their lives or we would have a pack of wild hellions on our hands. Because with their sweet faces they can literally get away with anything when it comes to me. I nod once to finalize the baking covenant and say, “Hawthorne Badass Baking Brigade on the count of three.”

Their hands are already in motion, so I bounce mine in beat to the count, “One, two, three.”

As our hands all uproariously lift into the air in celebration, we all shout in unison, “Hawthorne Badass Baking Brigade!” Except Ruby. Ruby only knows how to say Mama, Dada, and no. She really, really digs no and uses it like a Royal lording over her peasants. Poor Spare Ribs, the cat, hears it no less than three thousand times a day. Ruby claps with glee mimicking her siblings and all is right in the world looking at their combined happy faces.

While I wash off the tiny princess’s hands and Clover washes her own, Gracen and Kate take all the ingredients we need for this cookie sorcery out of the Trader Joe’s bags.

There’s flour, chocolate chips, butter, baking soda, salt, vanilla extract, all the sugars (granulated, powdered, and brown), eggs, rainbow sprinkles, and gummy bears. Clover insisted on the gummy bears because they’re Scout’s favorite candy, not sure how they fit into the cookie equation but we’ll make it work.

The kids and I gave Scout a spa visit for Valentine’s so she’ll be out of the house getting pampered like the queen she is all day. Technically that means we have three hours remaining to bake the best chocolate chip cookies the world has ever seen. Looking at my crew, I’m thinking this is going to be a piece of cake. They’re ready for battle. Everyone, including me, has their hair pulled back in a ponytail. I hand each of them a matching sweatband accompanied with a fist bump, that they each accept with their game face on and slip on around their heads like the warriors they are. After putting my sweatband in place, I raise my hands in the air and pump them up, “Let’s do this!”

Ruby wore her baby sweatband for two seconds before shedding it and chasing the cat around the kitchen floor. She was promptly plucked up and placed in her high chair with a handful of chocolate chips and a handful of sprinkles courtesy of her big brother. Gracen is the problem solver, I’m telling you. Most of time he just foresees there might be an issue and acts. There’s so much Scout in him. Thank god for that.

With Ruby’s highchair by my side, the other three crawl up on the countertop of the island and crowd around the recipe card that Ma wrote out for us last week. I got the measuring cups, mixing bowls, spoons, and cookie sheets out this morning so they’re already on the counter too. “Grace, you do the honors.” He spins the recipe card around so it’s facing him and he can read it. “Preheat oven to 350 degrees.”

I spin on my heel and poke the buttons to make that happen. “Check,” I say when it’s done.

He proceeds to read off the ingredients while Kate and Clover take turns measuring them out and dumping them in the bowls, calling out, “Check,” after completing each task.

“Drop heaping spoonful of dough on cookie sheet,” Gracen instructs.

“Which spoon?” Kate asks. “A tablespoon or a teaspoon?”

Gracen shrugs and looks at me to give confirmation.

I shrug too and say, “Whatever’s clever, Trevor,” leaving it up to them to decide.

Kate’s eyes narrow in thought for a beat and she nods, decided. “Tablespoon. Mom deserves big cookies.”

I’m leaning against the counter with both of my palms flat on the concrete surface but I lift one and hold it out for a high five—it’s, good call.

She high fives me back—it’s, I know.

All three take turns passing the spoon around to place balls of dough on the baking sheet. When they’re done I look each one in the eye and smile while I pick up the pan, “Dude, these cookies are going to blow your mom’s mind. Well done, Hawthorne Badass Baking Brigade.”

“Wait,” Gracen says halting me midway to the oven. “We forgot the sprinkles.”

“And the gummy bears,” Clover adds.

I don’t have the heart to tell my well meaning five year old that the gummy bears will likely meet a blazing demise in the oven, so I suggest diplomatically, “Why don’t we put a few on one cookie and see how the bears fare in 350 degree heat?”

She tilts her head back forth, her dark brown ponytail swaying behind her and looks at me with the thoughtful eyes that are an exact copy of Scout’s while she deliberates. She finally settles on, “Okay.”

I nod and watch them decorate the cookies. When the motion stops and I suspect they’re done, I lift the baking sheet from the counter and commend, “Masterpiece,” before tucking it away in the oven, setting the timer for ten minutes, and turning the light on inside the oven so we can watch the progress.

Clover groans melodramatically when the gummy bears melt before her eyes and begin to turn black under the intense heat. “The bears didn’t fare,” she says sadly.

“Lesson learned, Clove. What do we always say?” I prompt.

A small, shy smile lights her face. “Imagination without action will only ever be an impossible dream.”

I kiss her on the forehead above her sweatband. “That’s my girl. Always try. Always. Otherwise you never know.”

She nods once, proud of herself.

Cookies out of the oven, we load up two baking sheets this time and slip them in. While they’re baking, I pour four glasses of milk and a sippy cup of the cold stuff for Ruby and we sample the goods. All of us are dunkers, so they all get plunged in dairy before we take a bite. Even Ruby pulls at my arm holding the glass of milk until I offer it up for her to dunk hers in because her sippy cup has a lid and she doesn’t have easy access.

Kate’s eyelids flutter shut over her dark eyes and she hums while she chews. “These are so good,” she whispers to no one in particular.

Gracen looks at the partial cookie in his hand in amazement while he chews the rest of it. “We did it.” He sounds truly astonished.

“Heck yeah, we did. We slayed these cookies,” I say with my mouth full. “Hawthorne Badass Baking Brigade are officially the masters of the chocolate chip cookie universe.”

The final batch comes out of the oven an hour before Scout is scheduled to arrive home. And Clover makes sure each cookie is topped with a gummy bear while they’re still warm.

They all help me clean up. It’s funny how the clean up process with the kids and I always feels like it gets way messier before it actually gets clean.

When we hear the garage door open we’re all on the big sofa watching the beginning of a Disney movie. Ruby’s crashed; she’s sprawled out across my torso sleeping. Clover is on my right side, her arms wrapped around mine and her head resting against my bicep. Gracen is leaning against my left side and Kate is sitting on the other side of him crossways, her long legs stretched across Gracen’s lap and onto mine. We’re one giant snuggle until the door opens into the kitchen and we hear, “What smells so good in here?”

We put the cookies in a box that the kids decorated so the evidence, except the scent apparently, is stashed away. The kids are all suppressing their giggles and keeping the secret.

When she walks through the doorway from the kitchen and into the living room I can’t help but smile at her. We’ve been together for ten years and she still takes my breath away. She’s wearing sweatpants and a tank top and her hair is coiled into a messy bun on top of her head. This is my favorite version of Scout.

“How was the spa?” I ask.

She sighs dreamily as she walks toward the sofa. “Heavenly,” she says before going down the line starting with Clover and kissing each of us before settling in and shifting Kate onto her lap and wrapping one arm around her and the other around Gracen. There is no place in the world I’d rather be right now than here. I miss this so much when I’m out on tour with the band.

“What did I miss?” Scout asks sneakily.

“Nice try, Mom,” answers Kate with a chuckle while Clover looks at me and runs a pinched thumb and forefinger across her mouth like a zipper. I wink at her.

“What happens in the Hawthorne kitchen, stays in the Hawthorne kitchen,” I offer solemnly.

She smirks, because she knows she won’t get a real answer out of me. Ten years of sarcasm has trained her well. “You didn’t burn the house down. Kudos.”

Laughing under my breath, I reply, “You’re welcome. And gracias, sweetheart.”

“Da nada, babe.” I can hear the amused smile in her voice. I love that.

The brood will give their mom her Valentine’s Day cookies first thing in the morning. Likely before six o’clock because that’s how they roll.

And I’ll give Girl Scout my cookies tonight as soon as all the kids are asleep. I hope she left her panties in her purse when she left the spa today.