Page 55 of Say You Will

He corrects all of us. Didn’t he tell me to put my phone away like I was a teenager? Mom does it too. She scolded Gabriel for telling a dirty joke at the start of the meal.

Dad sits for a moment, shocked that someone would dare to tell him such a thing, but his expression changes when he looks back at Bronwyn, dawning awareness filtering in.

When I follow the direction of his gaze, real guilt hits me like a right hook to the jaw. Our father telling her to be quiet hurt her feelings.

I won’t pretend I understand it, but I don’t always need to understand these things. It’s enough to know that it’s true that people feel a certain way, even if I can’t relate.

On the other hand, Dean standing up for her like this can only be a good thing, as far as I can see. I respect him for it.

Bronwyn leans into Dean and murmurs, “Please don’t. The least I owe them is to try to remember to use my inside voice.”

He says something in response that I can’t hear and kisses her hand.

“It’s not their fault. Believe me, they had their work cut out for them when they decided to try to turnmeinto a McRae,” she says in a watery voice.

I suck in a breath and drop my fork to the tablecloth-covered surface.Tried to turn her into a McRae.As if this family is something she has to earn. As if, all these years after heradoption, she doesn’t know she simply is a member of this family.

Bronwyn is our own little Tasmanian Devil and ray of sunshine rolled into one. I can’t imagine the hole that would exist in our lives without her. When she’d nearly died, it was as though the fabric of our lives was being torn to shreds.

Who and what is this family without Charlotte and Bronwyn McRae?

“You are my child,” Dad says roughly. “There’s no ‘turning you into’ anything. There isn’t a single thing on this earth that you could do or not do that would change that. I apologize if I ever made you feel like you needed to earn your place in this family. You’re an amazing person, Bronwyn. You’re wonderful exactly the way you are.”

She looks doubtful, and Dad blinks his blue eyes hard a couple of times before he continues. “You’ve got a heart like the ocean, Bronwyn. You’re awe-inspiring,”

Bronwyn answers with a watery laugh. “The roar of my surf gets a little loud, sometimes.”

Dad smiles. “It does.”

Bronwynislike an ocean in many ways. She can certainly be overwhelming. Expecting her to act like less than herself would be a tragedy. “You can’t expect the ocean to sound like a pond,” I say, in what I hope is a reassuring tone. “Who would even want it to?”

Bronwyn makes eye contact and holds it. She dips her chin with a smile. “Thank you, Henry.”

“I have something deep and meaningful to add too,” Gabriel interjects.

When everyone looks in his direction, his eyes go wide. “I didn’t mean right now. I’m not telling you how much I love you in front of all these people,” he says, pouring himself a second glass of wine. “I’m shy.”

All the tension that had been building from the moment we started this dinner drains away with the laughter that follows. He’s good at that. What he said wasn’t funny, but his timing was impeccable, the sentiment was sincere, and he created a break from the uncomfortable emotion that had us in a chokehold.

I envy him that ability. I’m good at escalation. At poking wounds and annoying people. I’m absolutely good at manipulating a situation to get what I want, but I’m not good at making other people smile and relax the way he is. Gabriel has a gift that I’m not sure he recognizes or appreciates.

The conversation moves on, and I zone out as I think about my next move with Franki. Until I catch the tail end of Grandma Miller making some comment about having caught my parents going at it in the family car. I scrape my fork through my lasagna and try to ignore what the rest of them seem to think is hilarious, and I think is private and not meant to be discussed at a family dinner.

“It sounded like some animal was trapped and dying,” Grandad Miller says, sounding every bit as irritated as I am.

I’ve been told I think too literally and that other people don’t really picture what they say when they say it. Buthowdo you say something like that and not get an immediate, horrifying visual? Of my parents, no less.

I gag and shove my plate away.

Immediately, from her high chair, Phee bangs her baby spoon and imitates the sound.

I will not turn red over this. I refuse. If I blush in embarrassment like a teenager, Franki is going to think I’m an idiot. I can play this off as a joke.

Except, I can’t . . . Because,dammit, Grandad, that was graphic and unnecessary.

“Aww, come on, Henry,” Franki says.

When I look up and catch her eye, my neck heats. Her smile is so fucking kind. Even before she speaks, I know what she’s really saying.“I’m here, and I like you just the way you are.”

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