“Oh, you brought macaroons home. Daddy, I love you too!” I hear my sister Savannah sigh as I round the corner and see her engrossed with the large white box etched with elegant French script.
“Those are the chocolate hazelnut ones.” I point to the back corner of the box to indicate her favorite.
“Oh, Ace!” Savannah’s bright blue eyes shine with tears as she stands up and wraps her arms around me in a tight hug. Pregnancy hormones have increased my second to oldest sister’s constant need for affection. “I’m so bummed I didn’t get to go with you guys! I want to hear all about it!” She pulls back and eyes that match our mother’s and sisters’ slowly scrutinize my face before lifting to my brown ones, concluding her brief assessment. I smile in assurance of whatever she seems to be seeking and run a hand across her belly.
“Babe, you’ve been to France how many times? Do you really think anything’s changed?” I look up to catch her husband, Caulder, approaching us with my other brother-in-law Kyle.
Kyle’s eyes widen as he nearly stumbles to break his stride and separates himself from Caulder, knowing from his own pregnancy experience that his question isn’t going to be well received.
Savannah’s eyes focus on Caulder in an icy glare. “I still want to hear about it, my family’s there.”
Caulder seems to realize his error as his brown eyes turn somber. “I’m sorry, babe, you’re right … and in a couple years when baby Alex is big enough, we’ll all go,” he says, placing a hand on Savannah’s six-month bump.
“More like Alexandra,” I tease, selecting a pink macaroon from the box.
“It’s a boy. He likes good music, riding in my truck, and he goes crazy when he hears motorcycles,” Caulder insists.
“Uh oh. Alexandra’s going to be into bad boys. You better be prepared,” I sing, winning a smile from Savannah and a scowl from Caulder.
“Y’all really should just find out, I’m tired of buying yellow.” My mom adds from where she and my dad are preparing things for dinner.
“I think Ace is right. I think it’s a girl,” Savannah says, looking down at her growing stomach in adoration.
I grin, gazing up at Caulder with a gloating expression that he returns with an eye roll. Caulder’s the newest member of our family. He and Savannah celebrated their second wedding anniversary just last month. He grew up with a sister himself; however there are days I can tell that having a single sister in no way prepared him for our estrogen-filled house.
Kendall had a difficult time understanding our older sister’s draw to Caulder initially. Savannah’s always been very sweet and soft spoken, with a strong draw to children that led her to teaching kindergarten. Caulder’s very serious, to the point of being almost stiff and awkward at times. However, I’d known from the moment I met Caulder that he and Savannah would be perfect for one another. They’re like yin and yang: Where she sees possibility, he sees risk; where she leans toward new ventures, he gravitates toward familiarity. But neither stifles the other; they balance each other.
“Is Abby coming tonight?” Mom asks.
“Yeah, she leaves Tuesday, so she’s staying the night,” I reply, finishing my macaroon off.
“We’ve got to get her to call you Ace. I still look around to see who in the hell she’s talking to when I hear her call you Harper,” Kyle says, prodding through the macaroons.
“It is my name.”
“But you’re Ace.” He looks up from the box with a hint of sadness in his eyes. He’s right. Prior to college I was always Ace. Even in school, teachers and parents alike called me Ace, just like my friends. Transitioning to Harper took some adjusting because the only time I used to hear it, it was accompanied by my middle name—Jo—generally following one of my few acts of rebellion.
I’ve known Kyle since I was six, providing him with a reason to be a little confused. My oldest sister Mindi had taken me to the park near our house with a couple of her friends as an excuse to watch the high school boys practicing football. I had quickly grown bored of the mundane task of sitting still and not bothering them, and eventually got distracted and left them in search of something entertaining. It didn’t take long before I couldn’t see Mindi, or the direction from which I’d travelled. I was crying and wandering aimlessly when Kyle found me. He took my hand and we set off to find Mindi with a trail of his bad jokes in our wake.
When we found her, she was so worked up, fearing something had happened to me she hadn’t even realized I was still gripping Kyle’s hand when she flung her arms around me. However, her stress seemed to dissipate faster than it should’ve once she did finally notice him. After that, I can hardly recall him not being around. They began dating the following week and he became a permanent fixture in our house and family albums, becoming like a brother to me and the rest of my sisters, and a son to my parents.
Kyle and I have always had a special connection, sharing a passion for running, soccer, and my family. Where Savannah is sweet, and probably too nice, Mindi has the tendency to be a bit dramatic, rivaling Kendall with being both bossy and loud. On top of that, she was born a perfectionist, something I’m intimately familiar with since it’s one of the few traits that I, too, received from our mom.
“Where’s Min and the girls?” I ask, noticing Savannah looking precariously close to tears again and realizing we need to make a U-turn out of memory lane.
“They’re at a birthday party. What four-year-old has their party at a nail salon?” he cries. “I mean seriously.”
“Mom!” Kendall yells, making both Kyle and I sink back a little further into the kitchen. Kendall’s well-known for needing her sleep, and her tone makes it apparent that she’s in need of more. “Have you seen my white skirt?”
“Kyle, the girls are here,” my mom announces as she shoves a bag of pink, heart-shaped marshmallows in my hands.
“She’s been cravin’ these, and she’s been in sort of a mood lately,” she says, giving me an intense look that serves as a warning. I raise my eyebrows and nod before following Kyle outside, hearing my mom yell a response to Kendall before the door closes behind us.
Mindi’s working to unlatch my three-year-old niece Jade from her car seat as I approach, allowing a large gap between us. Unlike Savannah, Mindi hates all physical contact while she’s pregnant.
“You need to stop wiggling! I don’t know why the sky’s blue. It just is. But right now, you need to stop wiggling!”
“Hey, Min,” I say, trying my best to sound friendly and undeterred by her obvious agitation.
“Auntie Ace!” Jade’s words sound like a song.
“Auntie Ace, can I go let Zeus out?” Mindi and Kyle’s oldest daughter, Emily, asks, hopping to a stop in front of me, her bright blue eyes round, shining with excitement.
“Yeah, I think he’s in the backyard.” Both girls race across the lawn, their blond hair dancing behind them. They shriek and giggle as my dad chases them to the back gate.
“Are those …”
I look to see Mindi staring at the bag of marshmallows I’m still holding. I don’t hesitate in presenting them to her. She snatches them and tears into the bag, instantly shoving two in her mouth before looking up at me. Her forehead relaxes, and her eyes close with a look of content.
“Thank you,” she garbles, covering her full mouth with her fingers.
A loud muffler rips through the air. Mindi and I turn to see a shiny black motorcycle pull into the driveway beside ours. “Who’s that? Is that Hank? Oh my god, I look so fat today! Please don’t let it be Hank.” Mindi’s voice is a plea as she sidesteps so that she’s mostly behind me.
“Max, welcome home, son! It’s good to see you.” My dad calls before the helmet fully reveals his face. Zeus shoves himself between Mindi and me, so I’m forced to take a step forward to catch my balance, and I hear a vaguely familiar voice.