#cafc

“But why?”

“Why are we going to visit?” Harry asks, and Mattea nods energetically. 

A soft smile crosses my lips as tears fill my eyes. The truth is that my great aunt is ill, and this might be the only time we get to visit her. With Harry’s newest movie coming out on Thanksgiving weekend and Christmas back in Holmes Chapel with Anne, Gemma, and our nephews, there aren’t many options for seeing Aunt Cammie during the time she has left on Earth. “Because Aunt Cammie wants to meet you and your brother.” 

“That silly, Mama. My brudder still in your tummy. He not part of the fambily.” 

Her words cause me to lay a hand on my six-month pregnant belly. A January baby. At least he wasn’t coming in the heat of summer. Or during the middle of a tour. All around, he seems to have good timing so far. Except that Mattie would prefer to stay an only child and not have a “brudder” at all. 

“Why is it silly? I talk to him all the time,” Harry chimes in. 

“You silly.” Clearly ‘silly’ is her favorite new word that Uncle Jeffrey taught her during tour. 

“Yes, I am!” My husband proudly proclaims. 

“Ohhhhh! The twees so pwetty!” 

She’s nothing if not observant. The autumnal colors in this part of Vermont have recently popped, and I recall the times I spent with my great aunt as a child when I was required to rake leaves -- not ever really enjoying the colors as much as I do now. The reds and yellows and oranges scattered on the road and ground are as stunning as the colors still gracing the trees themselves. Magical. 

Although the GPS directs us, I don’t need to see the arrows to know when to turn down the road at the bottom of one hill near a dairy farm. Five more minutes, and we would hit town. But no one would ever suspect the small town is so close to these fields with their picket fences, cows grazing on the remaining grass untouched yet by winter snow. 

“What dat?” Mattie asks, her tiny fat finger pointing out of the window. 

“Oh! Those are the Leaf People,” I tell her. “You’ll have to ask Aunt Cammie about them.” 

“Leaf People?” Harry wonders. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Then you’ll both have to ask Aunt Cammie when we get there.” Which isn’t long as the GPS directs Harry to turn at the next driveway between two dairy farms. As he parks, I realize how stiff my legs have become on the drive. And how badly I have to pee. 

When we pull into the driveway, I smile at the beauty of the old farmhouse that is no longer connected to much of a farm. Aunt Cammie had sold the surrounding land to her neighbors as she aged and could no longer raise her goats. It has been through sheer stubbornness that Cammie keeps two goats for their milk, and my stomach grumbles at the thought that I won’t get to enjoy any fresh goat cheese until after our son is born. Sadly. 

As Harry pops the car into park and turns off the engine with a single button push, Mattie’s feet start bouncing and kicking at my seat. My husband’s throaty laugh accompanies his exit from the vehicle as he steps around to release our daughter from her car seat prison. 

She jumps down from her seat, grasping her stuffed puppy tightly in one hand. Betraying her nerves, her other thumb tucks itself into her mouth. Harry and I exchange a glance. She’d been doing that more lately as my tummy had grown with the weight of her brother. We discussed it often, and had finally settled on the hope that her self-soothing is temporary. But she’s not been quiet about not needing anyone else in the family. At least anyone else who isn’t a dog -- which she desperately wants. 

“As I live and breathe, is that my sweet Georgina?” Aunt Cammie’s voice echoes from the wraparound porch on her farmhouse, and I feel like my knees aren’t going to hold me up. Defying their weakness, I fly to the stairs and race up to wrap this deceptively robust woman in my arms. Squeezing her tightly, I ignore the tears that have sprung to the corners of my eyes. After my parents passed when I was twelve, Aunt Cammie raised me, and I feel like I’m at home whenever I’m around her. It’s a true sin that we’ve not been to visit since Mattie was a baby. I could easily blame Harry’s work, but that wouldn’t be fair. My work has been just as demanding of my time, and the truth is that I hadn’t made Vermont a priority since the wedding. There was always so much hustle and bustle in a celebrity wife’s life. 

We always think we have forever with the people we love. 

Until we don’t. 

Shaking off the maudlin feelings, I step back to feel Harry’s arm wrap around my back. The comfort of it gives me the strength to blink my tears away as I gesture to Mattie to join us. Cautiously, my daughter steps towards the older woman. 

“You’ve grown so much!” Aunt Cammie remarks. “Just tall enough, I think, to help me milk Cinnamon.” 

Popping her thumb out of her mouth, Mattie inquires, “What a cim-a-non?” 

“She’s my goat. Would you like to meet her?” 

Normally exuberant, an unusually-silent Mattie’s head bobs up and down, and soon she’s following Aunt Cammie through the house to the back after shoving the stuffed dog at me to hold. 

“I’ve gotta pee,” I whisper. “Take some pics of them, please?” 

With a soft kiss on my cheek, Harry nods. “Of course, my love. We’ll be waiting.” 

After washing my hands, I wander outside to the sounds of pure joy bursting from our daughter. She shrieks as the brown goat Cinnamon nibbles from her hand while the pure white Snowflake is calmly being milked, my great aunt sitting low on a milking stool. 

“Aunt Cammie!” I rush over. “I can do that for you. Harry, why aren’t you helping?” 

“Nonsense, Gina.” Harry retorts. “Your aunt has everything in hand.” As I glance at him in shock, a message silently passes between us, and I understand that he’d offered but my obstinate aunt must have insisted. She’d always been one to work through any pain, and I could see that she wasn’t going to change despite what the doctors said. Or anything I might say.

“Mama, look!” Mattie is hugging the goat, and my husband smartly focuses his camera on the animal and our child. I hear the shutter snap photo after photo, and I know I’m going to cherish these pictures for years to come. I'll probably show them to every guy Mattie ever dates. Poor kid. 

“I see,” is my comment combined with a grin. “Did you ask Aunt Cammie about the Leaf People?” 

“Ooooohhhhh! Aunt Cannie -- what da Leaf Peepa?” 

Slowly and cautiously, my aunt stands, her hand on her back for support. Swooping in, I remove the bucket of milk from underneath Snowflake. No need for the elderly woman to carry the milk. 

“You know she does this on her own without us?” Harry whispers in my ear, and I shudder. Perhaps I should move in? Stay with her? But even as the thought crosses my mind, I know it’s not possible. We have obligations. Commitments to others. But oh how I want to move in and take care of this woman who raised me! Even in the harsh winter of Vermont. I shiver from my memories and tighten my mohair sweater around me. 

“Ah, the Leaf People! They only come out in the autumn, you see.” My aunt begins the story. “And then on Halloween, they all disappear.”

“Disappear?” My wondrous, open-eyed child questions. “Where they go?” 

“No one knows,” my aunt reveals, “But if you want -- we can dress some of them up while you’re here.” 

“Oh yay!” Clapping her hands together, Mattie jumps up and down. “I wanna! Daddy, you wanna too?” 

“Of course,” Harry murmurs, and I know he would do whatever it takes to make his daughter happy. 

“Let get clothes!” Mattie races back into the house and out the front door, leaving it wide open as we smile behind her. 

“You better grab her, H, or she’s going to have a field day with your Gucci.” 

“Shit,” he curses, racing after his daughter. 

“It’s good to see you, Georgina,” my aunt comments as she climbs the steps. I follow behind, hauling the milk into the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry it’s been so long --” I begin, but she shuts me down with a look. Sort of like the night I came home after a night of cowtipping with the boys from the farm down the road. 

“You’re here now, and I’m glad to see you. We’ll have none of those excuses and apologies, Miss Thing. I’m just thrilled to have you under my roof again with that handsome husband and baby girl of yours. Oh -- and this one too.” Leaning over to my belly, she glances at me. “May I?” 

“Knock yourself out,” I tell her. Aunt Cammie never gave birth, so she has always been fascinated by the pregnancies of others. 

“Hello, little one,” she whispers, and tears spring to my eyes. “Your mama and daddy love you very much. And when you grow up, they’re going to be able to bring you here whenever you want. After all, what better baby gift could I give than a lifetime of memories on the farm?” 

“What are you saying?” I force the words out of my mouth, although my tongue feels like lead. 

“I’m leaving you the farmhouse, of course. In your name only, though. I expect you and the kids to come here at least once a year.” 

“That’s a most generous gift,” I stutter, blinking away my tears again. No point arguing with her as she’s clearly made up her mind well before we arrived. “Why in my name only?” I ask as we walk to the front door to follow Mattie and Harry, my daughter’s stuffed dog swinging by its paw. 

“Georgina -- your husband has all the money anyone could want, and I know he does well by you. You could buy anything the world has to offer.” She pauses, swallowing, “But no one can buy memories.” 

The tears freely make their pathway down my face. I frantically wipe them from my eyes as we exit onto the front porch to find Mattie has opened my suitcase on the driveway and is removing item after item of clothing. 

“Mattie! What are you doing?” 

“Gettin’ clothes for the Leaf Peepa!” 

“Harry!” I yell, although I’m not as angry as I thought I would be while I watch my daughter ransacking my clothing. 

“I didn’t know she was going to dig into your bag,” He hollered back. “I just set it down while I moved it to get mine.” 

Planting my face in my palm, I decide to join them on the driveway -- if only so I can rescue some of my clothes from the dust of the gravel. Aunt Cammie joins us and heads for the garage. “Harry, can you help me in here for a minute?”

The two disappear, and I pick up my discarded clothing from around my suitcase. “Did you choose something, love?” I ask my daughter. 

“Not yet,” she bubbles. “I want it to be like you.” Finally, she yanks out a folded pair of baggy blue jeans and a denim top. “Dis!” She declares the words at the top of her lungs, and I shrug. It’s an outfit I like wearing when we’re not going out anywhere. Reminds me of home. Vermont. Something I might have worn years ago when I was taking care of the goats before school. Prior to my successful career as a feature writer for The New Yorker, Esquire, and occasionally Vogue.

As I finish picking up my strewn clothing, our daughter makes her way to her daddy’s suitcase, unzipping the Gucci bag and rummaging through the clothes there. 

“Here we go,” Harry announces as he arrives back by our sides. He’s holding the frames for three Leaf People. “One for each of us. We’ll put them out front with Aunt Cammie’s.” 

“Ooohhhh! Dat one me?” Mattie grins, pointing to the child-sized frame. 

“Yep,” Harry agrees, watching as his little girl returns to sorting through his wardrobe. “You picked something out for Mama?” 

“Uh huh. Now you, Daddy.” Finally, she raises a flowy and flowery pink shirt over her head with a pair of navy trousers. “Dis one!” Shaking his head, Harry laughs. “Your Uncle Sue will not be happy.” His calm demeanor at her choice of a pair of fitted Gucci trousers and a silk one-of-a-kind Harris Reed creation is one of the reasons I love this man. Doesn’t even bat an eye at his daughter using the expensive clothes to decorate a wooden frame to hang in the front yard. 

“Now Mama and I get to choose for you!” He teases, reaching for Mattie’s smaller luggage. 

“Nuh uh, Daddy! I get pick!” She rushes to her suitcase, opening it haphazardly and tossing clothes around. “I know just what I want!” Raising her hand over her head, she holds a stunning dress that had been made specifically for her birthday last month. “See Daddy? She’ll be the prettiest princess in all the land!” 

Smiling at our daughter’s desire to make even a wooden frame look beautiful, I simply nod as I pick up the scattered clothing. 

Harry laughs, picking up our girl and twirling her around while the true princess giggles excitedly. “Wait, Daddy!” she screeches. “Put me down!” 

Horrified, Harry stops spinning immediately, setting her on the ground. Mattie races to her suitcase, rearranging everything I had just reorganized. Not finding what she wants, she tears through Harry’s clothes again before heading for mine. 

“Mattie!” I stop her tiny hands before they reach my remaining clothes. “What are you looking for? You found clothes for everyone already.” 

“No, Mama. Didn’t.” Her head swivels on her neck in a frantic motion. 

Harry kneels before her, taking her hands in his and making eye contact. “What’s going on, Mattie? We got clothes for you and me and Mama. And Aunt Cammie already has hers ready. What else do we need?” 

Our precious daughter’s eyes have filled with tears as she looks around at the open suitcases. “Need clothes for baby brudder.” 

Holy shit. Harry’s stricken gaze meets mine, and we’re both about to lose our collective composure. Mattie wanted to represent our unborn child? Astonishing. 

“Mattie,” Harry asks, twisting to her. “Since he’s not here yet, do you want to stuff the tummy of the Mama’s Leaf Person?” 

“NO!” She is adamant, and stomps her foot to emphasize her point. 

“What about a blanket?” Aunt Cammie offers. “We can wrap it up like a baby and put it in the arms of the mama.” 

Tilting her head for a moment, Mattie considers the offer. Sighing, she looks among the adults around her. “Can my Leaf Peepa hold the baby?” she asks quietly. 

I swear, if my son has even half the ability to break my heart as our daughter, I will never survive until they are adults. We all agree that the little girl leaf person can hold the leaf baby, and we spend the rest of the afternoon dressing them up and adding some accessories from the local thrift store to finish. When we prop the fully designed Leaf People in the front yard as the sun begins to set, Mattie stands between Harry and me and grasps a hand from each of us. 

“Let’s go make some goat cheese!” Harry prompts, and Mattie giggles. 

“Daddy, you can’t make cheese out of a goat!”