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white carnation, engulfing her little boy in its petals.

Jack pushed away from the taffeta to look at his mother. "Are we going to be happy?"

Lucy stared back at her son, her brow furrowing, her eyes blinking. "What an interesting question," Lucy stalled. "Yes, Jack, we are going to be happy - really, really happy."

"But, sometimes you cry, Mom. Sometimes you aren't happy."

"Well, no one is happy all the time." Lucy stepped in close to the mirror to examine her makeup. "But, all we can do is try. Why these questions, Jack? And, well, why now? Are you okay?" Lucy turned her gaze to Jack's reflection. "I thought, ummm, I thought you were pretty happy with this plan. I know you like our new house, right?"

"Yes, it's nice. I like the ice that comes through the door."

"Ice through the door?"

"The refrigerator door."

"Ah." Lucy drew in a breath. "And you like Doug?"

"Yeah."

"Really? You can be honest."

"Yeah, I do. But sometimes Henry says stuff."

Lucy turned from the mirror to regard Jack. "What stuff? Do you think your brother doesn't like Doug?"

Jack pressed his lips together and then licked them. "No. I think he likes him. It's just "

"It's just that he isn't Daddy. Is that it, Jack?"

"Yeah, I guess. Kind of." Jack had pulled both pockets completely out of his pants and was pulling on them.

"Jack, look at me." Lucy turned her son's face toward hers and enveloped him again in the carnation. "Your Daddy loves you. Doug loves you. I love you. And we all love your brother, too. This is a big change. And I know, this has to be kind of weird. Having new siblings, new house, a new guy telling you to get your socks off the floor. But, some stuff will be the same. I'll take you to school, I'll be at your soccer games, I'll buy you raspberry popsicles when you are sick. Count on it. Okay?"

"Okay."

Lucy stuffed Jack's pockets back into his pants. "You'll need to keep your suit looking nice until after the wedding."

"Okay." Jack looked down at his shoes again. "Hey, mom, can I carry an army guy in my pocket?"

"Sure, sweetie. Just don't play with him during the ceremony."

You aren't going to cry anymore, mom?"

Lisa had just finished putting on her necklace and turned to face Jack. "I'm not going to cry anymore."

Tom Petty stopped singing in Lucy's head now that the priest had uttered his opening words. Lucy looked at the toddler, who was now up on her knees in the pew, trying to grab Jack's hair. Jack was moving erratically from side to side, his wild curls bouncing with every bob. Lucy's sister lifted the baby and plonked her in her lap, pushing down her little embroidered dress. Lucy said, "I do."

Learn more about this author, Claudia Bushee.
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