Free Back to You by Priscilla Glenn Page B

and hands covered in orange goop. “My Grandma Rose was the best cook ever. She made homemade jelly, and apricot was my favorite. And one day…” he trailed off, knowing Erin would continue.
    “One day she made some and left it on the table and you ate it all up!” she squealed and burst into hysterics, the kind of youthful, genuine laughter that always made Michael respond in kind.
    “I ate it all up,” he repeated with a nod. “And I made a big mess, huh?”
    “Yeah, you need a bath, Daddy.” Michael smiled before she added, “My grandma lives far away.”
    His smile dropped. “Yes,” he said, trying to keep his voice casual.
    “When will she come to visit me and make me apricot jelly?”
    He swallowed. “I don’t know. It’s a very far trip,” he said, rubbing her hair, and he couldn’t help but wonder, as he so often did, if he was doing the right thing by keeping his mother out of Erin’s life. When he had called her against his better judgment to tell her he had gotten his girlfriend pregnant, she used the opportunity to point out all the lives he’d ruined, and how this would just be another one to add to the list. She ended the conversation with, “For God’s sake, I hope you’re going to abort that child.”
    And he hadn’t spoken to her since.
    But he wondered—if she were to meet Erin, if she got to see how smart and wonderful and kind she was, maybe she would be the kind of grandmother Erin deserved.
    Or maybe she’d ruin her, the way she had him.
    “What else did Grandma Rose cook?” Erin asked, pulling him back to the present, and he smiled, thankful for the reprieve.
    “She made the best zucchini bread,” Michael said, lifting his arm to accommodate her as she snuggled closer to him. “That’s how she tricked me into eating my vegetables.”
    “ Daddy ,” she sing-songed. “Begetables don’t grow in bread!”
    Michael laughed. “No, but you can bake them in bread. It tastes delicious. Almost like cake.”
    “Can we make zucchini bread?”
    “We can try,” he laughed. “I’m not as good as Grandma Rose, but we can certainly try,” he added, turning the page.
    “That’s Daddy and his friend at bagruation,” Erin said.
    “Graduation,” Michael corrected softly, his eyes on the picture.
    “Hey!” Erin squealed, sitting up suddenly, pointing at the picture. “That’s Miss Lauren!”
    Michael stared at the picture, although he hardly needed to. He had looked at it so often after he first left Scranton that he could close his eyes and conjure it up with perfect clarity.
    He stood several inches taller than her in his black graduation gown, his lips curved into a slight smile as he looked down at her. Lauren leaned into him with one arm extended, holding the camera away from them as she took the picture. Her head was resting against his chest, her dark red hair spilling over his gown as she smiled at the camera.
    Her smile was always his favorite part.
    She smiled straight up to her eyes, so happy to be next to him, so proud of him that day. She was the only one who had showed up for him, standing and clapping when his name was called, whistling loudly as he walked across the stage, and taking the one and only picture of him in his graduation attire because, as she had beamed, “Everyone needs to remember their graduation day.”
    “Miss Lauren dances with us,” Erin said matter-of-factly as she laid back down.
    “Oh yeah?” Michael answered, still lost in the picture.
    “Yes. And if someone’s sad, she hugs them. Once, Kayla was crying because she missed her mommy, and Miss Lauren taught her the Brave Song. And then she taught it to everyone. And she promised if we sing it when we’re scared, we’ll feel brave.”
    Michael smiled, pulling his eyes from the picture to look down at his daughter. “Didn’t I tell you Miss Lauren was nice?”
    “Yes,” she said with a nod. “I think she’s really a princess, but she just forgets to wear her crown.”
    “I