Crunching on a slice of bacon, Sue thought about how much their lives had changed since Beth and Martin and the kids have moved in.

She and Quentin had wanted kids, but after she’d quit working to start their family, they’d discovered that it wasn’t going to happen, at least not in any traditional manner. Back then she’d been too distressed to go back to work; she’d wondered how Quentin could do it, knowing he’d been as broken up as she was.

Two thoughts had grown in her mind over the years. Quentin’s sharp mind had been less sharp afterwards; that was when he’d starting unconsciously leaning on Martin, imitating his successes instead of forging his own path.

She’d missed it then, of course. Looking back, she wondered whether she could have been a better partner for him; if that would have mattered. Since they were both happy with where things were, and where they were heading, there didn’t seem to be much point thinking about the ‘what ifs’ but she wondered anyway.

The other realisation was that when they’d talked about starting a family, what she really wanted was her very own Jacob. Not someone like him, but him.

And for his whole life, they’d been as much a part of each others’ lives as any mother and son could have been, and she was happy. Happy just the way things were.

They’d always shown him that being afraid wasn’t the purpose of fear. Fear was to help you do something. If there was something scary in the dark, you should either run or kill it, but you’d never know which if you don’t shine a light on it. If there was a feeling you didn’t know what to do with, fear could help you be considerate about how you shared it, but it wasn’t a reason not to share it.

Jake’s fears had never stopped him from doing things. He’d learned early in life that if you lived with fear, it was more than happy to hang around, but if you used it as a tool, it left as quickly as it came.

It was one reason they’d never worried much about his quiet nature, his lack of interest in sports, his constant state of distraction. He very clearly wasn’t hiding from anything, running from anything. He was what he was, he liked what he liked, and he only feared things until he understood what he needed to do next.

She knew Quentin would take good care of Jake and his music. She was glad someone else could step in and help sort it out, because she sure couldn’t have done it.

The clatter of plates and knives and forks and cups took the place of voices. There’s something unique about a family breakfast, but they’re also very much the same.

Beth looked around between bites. She hadn’t realised how much she’d love being with her sister all the time. She’d been so focused on helping Martin and caring for the kids that she’d only obliquely considered what she was getting out of all this.

Not bad for a happy accident, she thought.

It seemed like Martin had turned a corner himself. After his first work day with Quentin, he’d come home pensive and quiet. Not upset, certainly; every time she’d caught his eye with the single raised eyebrow that meant “are you okay?” he’d smiled, teary-eyed, and hugged her the way only he’d ever hugged her.

The kids were so changed. No, not changed, released. That was it, released. Betsy was talking so much, asking questions about everything, commenting on everyone’s moods and facial expressions. And sharing her own, in spades.

And Jacob; dear gentle amazing Jacob. For the first time in years, he was sharing his fears, out loud. When he was little, Betsy’s age, he’d talked about everything that worried him, and Beth and Martin had listened and comforted and just let him know that fear was okay, as long as you did something with it.

As if they’d planned it, Sue and Beth pointed at each other. “Sisters!” Quentin rolled his eyes. Martin’s were too wet to roll properly.

He cleared his throat and wiped his sleeve across his eyes. “So, what now? What’s up with this music-writing thing you two have going on?”

Jacob looked at Quentin, then poked at his pancakes. “Dunno.”

“Oh, Jake, I told you not to worry. We’ll find someone to write it down. I just wasn’t expecting anything so complex, y’know? I can write down a simple tune, but you don’t to simple, I guess.” He laughed, but Jake still didn’t look happy.

Beth patted his hand again. “Sweetie, Uncle Quest doesn’t make idle promises. You think Aunt Sue would let him get away with that?” Jake glanced at Sue, who scowled and pinched Quentin’s ear. “Hey, quit!”

“Naw, Mom, I don’t think that’d happen. I just . . . it’s, um; I’m scared it’s not gonna work. Not that it’ll be anyone’s fault, just that it won’t work.”

Martin tapped his fork on the table. “Don’t even worry about it. Quentin delivers. Your mom and I trust him; Aunt Sue trusts him.”

Bets set her glass of milk down with a clunk. “I trust him.”

Martin looked straight across the table at Quentin. “Yeah, sweetie; we all do.”

“And it’s just about time, pal.” Quentin and Sue came through the back door, squeezing past Jake. Quentin put a hand out toward Jake’s hair, then stopped, glared at Jake, and sat at the table.

Sue sat next to Quentin and picked up a fork and knife, and started banging the butts on the table. “More pancakes! Less grown-ups! More pancakes! Less—wait; didn’t we just tell him to grow up? Quentin, help me out here.”

Quentin pointed his fork at Sue. “Not interested. Martin’s all grown up, I’m hungry, and you’re too loud.” He snatched his fork away as Sue grabbed for it.

“Yeah. Grown-ups all over the place.” Martin brought the heaping steaming plates of pancakes and bacon to the table, then pulled a warm covered bowl of scrambled eggs from the oven. Beth clumped down the stairs with Betsy over her shoulder. “Finally! Are we eating, or what?”

Jake slid into his chair next to the fridge, and Beth sat Betsy on the seat between Martin and herself. Quentin shoveled a little bit of everything onto his plate. “Where’s that applesauce?” He looked up; looked around the table. For just a moment, everyone looked around at everyone else. Beth patted Jake’s hand. Quentin turned to Sue. “This, Pippin, may have been the best idea you’ve ever had, putting this whole family together.”

“Oh, I still wanna be Jake. But you’ve got to admit, Sue’s pretty impressive.”

Beth leaned against Martin’s back. “Yeah. Yeah, she is. But so are you.” She put her hands on his arms and tugged, turning him around. “Do you have any idea?”

Jake leaned out from behind the fridge. Ever since they’d moved here, his mom and dad had been acting more like Uncle Quest and Aunt Sue. They touched each other more, the smiled at each other more; he was almost expecting them to start calling each other fruity nicknames.

The music in his head was a movie soundtrack; slow and romantic, but happy and intense at the same time. Sometimes, the music was just right, and he realised for the first time, it happened most often when he felt just right.

“I keep saying that, too. Why would he wanna grow up to be me when I’m gonna grow up to be him?”

Martin hugged Beth and turned back to the pancakes. “Jake, I think we’ve all known for a long time that you’re going to grow up to be you, and nobody else. For which, I must say, I’m deeply grateful.”

He tossed the ladle in the empty batter bowl with a clatter. “And, you know what? Me too. I think I’m going to grow up to be me.”

“Yeah, sometimes I wonder if there’s something she doesn’t know how to do. I wanna be her when I grow up.” Martin glanced over his shoulder at Jake, who was looking at his mom in the doorway.

“Who do you want to be? And why on earth would you grow up? That’s no fun.”

Martin scooped and stacked pancakes and laid another batch on. He caught Jake’s eye before he answered Beth. “So, I’m fun now, but I won’t be if I grow up?”

Beth rolled her eyes and groaned. “I am not even going to have that conversation. Not before breakfast, anyway. I just wanna know who you want to be.”

“He wants to be Aunt Sue.” Jake took a big quiet step to the back door, and ducked behind the side of the fridge as Martin turned.

“Traitor. That was a secret.”

“In the middle of pancake breakfast? I don’t think so, Dad.”

Martin laughed, and Beth held up one finger on her right hand. “Point for Jake. And speaking of points . . . ” She stepped closer to Martin and rubbed his back. “What’s this with wanting to be Sue? I thought you wanted to be Jake when you grew up.” She looked at Jake, and made sure he noticed that the pointer finger she was holding up was across her lips now.

After a quick stop in the bathroom Jake stood at the top of the stairs. He heard the first pancake hitting the bacon grease in the frying pan, then a few seconds later, the wonderful doughnut smell floated up the stairwell, tell him it was now or never.

He stepped down the stairs without trying to be quiet. He swung around the banister to the right and into the kitchen.

“Hey, Dad.”

His father glanced over his shoulder and waved the pancake turner. “Hey, Jake. Smelling good up there?”

Jake went to the fridge and opened it. “Yeah, the bacon got me out of bed, and the pancakes hit me on the stairs.”

“Sounds messy.” His dad laughed. He flipped the four pancakes from the griddle into a pile and then move the pile to a plate. The bacon grease sizzled as he ladled four more circles of batter. “Can you get that jar of applesauce, too? I’ve been thinking about Aunt Sue’s homemade applesauce on these spicy pancakes since the day we decided to move here, and I’m gonna have me some.”

“Homemade applesauce. Huh. Does Aunt Sue make everything herself?” Jake knew the answer, but it was a conversation he loved having.

The smell of the bacon and the pancake spices reminded him that it was Saturday. Was it? Yeah, Saturday.

Jake rolled over so the soft light from the window was on his face and lay there with his eyes closed. He knew if he could smell the bacon in the oven it wouldn’t be long before his dad would be calling them down for breakfast.

He sat up and pushed the covers off, eyes still closed. This was a new home, a new life. His dad seemed to have turned some corner; seemed less tense, happier. Jacob thought maybe it was time for a new rule about Pancake Saturdays. He opened his eyes and scrambled his hair with both hands, then rubbed his eyes, first with his knuckles, then with his palms.

Yup; time to see if he could get away with invading the kitchen before the pancakes were done.

He slipped his feet into the slippers Aunt Sue had bought him. The wooden floors upstairs were a little rough in this old house, and she’d bought slippers for Jake and Bets and Mom and Dad when they moved in. Jake’s were just like his dad’s; leather moccasins with lambs’ wool inside. Not exactly military issue, but Jake thought they were just right for his kitchen invasion.

This summer, when it had happened more often, he’d been so glad he could just lay on his bed and let his head catch up. Sometimes he didn’t even sleep; just lay there until he felt something again. Other times, especially later in the day, he’d wake up at three in the morning and crawl under the covers and go back to sleep.

After the storms, the music was quiet. Jacob wondered if that was why he didn’t feel anything; if the music might be his feelings. Probably not. But it was connected. It was the only time he was really aware of silence in his head.

The wall was cool against his face and the sun was warm on the back of his head. He could feel where the sun was shining on his back, and where it wasn’t; an odd line that felt too warm on his shoulders and too cool on his back. It didn’t matter; if he moved, it would just move the line.

The cool turned to a chill. Without opening his eyes he slipped off one shoe, then the other, and let them fall to the floor at the foot of the bed. He shoved the covers down under his stomach, then pushed them down enough that he could slip his feet under.

He curled up so his back was in the sun, then pulled the covers up over everything but his sunny back, and slept.