It was early in the morning when Peter woke up the next day. He had set his cell phone alarm to go off early even though it was a Saturday and usually a day everyone would at least try to sleep in. Peter didn’t want to take any chances this time out, as he insisted Sonya leave her keys in her purse. Peter also woke up early because he wanted to be the first on up to make sure no one attempted to jump he walls again before breakfast was served. Even though his body was screaming to go back to sleep Peter resisted, got himself up, and went to the bathroom to clean up. He straightened his hair, scratched his scruffy chin a little, and brushed his teeth before grabbing his notebook and tip toeing down the stairs. Much to his surprise, Nathan was still passed out on the pull-out couch which Peter assumed felt like the Waldorf compared to the cot Ray had his son lay on for half the day. A part of Peter kind of felt bad letting Ray do that to him, but he also knew that Nathan was perfectly safe. Ray only stayed at the station after his long night shift just to be there to watch over his son until Nathan was released. Peter knew what kind of friend Ray was, which was the kind you only find once in a lifetime. Much like the love of your life: when you find someone like that, you make sure they stay in your life for as long as possible. Real friends were a lot like wives. You guys will argue many times but easily forgive one another and always be there for support one another when things go wrong, much like what happened last week with Christina. Peter tried not to think about her at this point as all it did was upset him and he never liked writing anything in a bad mood. He quietly walked into the kitchen and put the notebook computer on the main table and pulled up a chair. He opened the laptop up and then set up his latest book and began to write. After writing a few lines, Peter stopped for a moment to dig into the fridge to grab a can of soda and some leftover finger foods to munch on. This was Peter’s idea of heaven, working on a good book while eating leftovers and sipping an ice-cold soda this early in the morning. Usually if Peter managed to get anything done during this time, it was going to be like that for the rest of the day. He was typing away for what seemed like ages but was only about half an hour when there was suddenly more life in the house. Nathan was finally starting to stir, and it seemed like Jacob was up playing video games in his room. Peter disregarding them and kept hitting the keys, working on his book at a decent pace until someone finally came into the kitchen. It was Nathan who had folded up the couch and put the linings away before coming in to get something to eat.

“How did you sleep?” Peter asked his son.

“A lot better than I did when I was in the slammer.” Nathan answered.

“I can’t argue with you there.” Peter replied, doing his best to keep a straight face. “I know how rough those beds can be and I did not envy your position for a single moment.”

Peter took a sip from his cola and resumed beating the keys on his laptop with his finger tips. He was in a groove and was trying to get any many words finished as he could before everyone else woke up and wanted something big for breakfast.

“How did you manage to get busted?” Nathan asked as he turned around. “Don’t you have the sheriff in your pocket?”

“Despite your assumption, it was that very same sheriff that tossed my ass in that cell to begin with.” Peter answered, “That was a pretty rough day for me, and I had a little too much to drink. As a result of that sizable consumption, I started causing some trouble for the locals. Ray didn’t hesitate to toss me in the slammer before I could really make a mess of things and left me there until I sobered up.”

“What kind of friend does that?” Nathan asked.

“The best kind,” Peter said without hesitation, “Ray did that specifically because he was my friend. He would rather make me sleep in the slammer than wait for me to commit a crime that could have ruined my life and possibly my career as a writer. When he threw my ass in jail, he was looking out or me and my image.”

“Was he being a good friend to you when he let things slide for me?” Nathan asked without turning back.

“No,” Peter replied, “Ray was being a friend to your mother.”

It was a shot that made Nathan stop what he was doing and turn around with a disgusted look on his face.

“I’m not kidding,” Peter insisted, “Ray has known your mother just as long as I have. They were good friends too. He was there the day I met her, and he knew us from the exact day we became a couple all the way till the day we decided not to be one anymore. That’s why we made him your Godfather.”

“Hold on,” Nathan said, shocked at what he just heard, “That asshole who arrested me yesterday is my Godfather?”

“In a word, yes.” Peter confirmed with a grin, “When your mother and I were together, Ray was always our biggest supporter and our closest friend. So, when he was looking out for you and making charges disappear, he was doing that for your mom just as much as he was doing it for me.”

Nathan really didn’t have a comeback for that so instead he turned back to the cupboards and keep looking for various items. This was when the girls came screaming down the stairs. Subtlety was never a strong point for them, and quite frankly they got it from their father. They were both wearing the same nightgown which made them completely identical since they both had their hair down. They stood side by side when the same question.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“What’s for breakfast?” they both asked in perfect unison.

Before Peter could answer, Nathan spoke first.

“I’m making pancakes.” Nathan called out.

The two girl’s faces lit up with excitement, and they started to dance around the room. Peter looked over the top of his laptop at his son.

“Do you know how to make pancakes, son?” he quietly asked.

“Of course, I do.” Nathan answered, as he started to mix everything into a massive mixing bowl. “Grandpa taught me how to make them. He always said no matter how tough things got, or how much trouble you got yourself into, pancakes would always make everything go away.”

“That sounds like something he would say.” Peter said as he put his eyes back on the computer and his book.

Peter looked over once in a while when he wasn’t writing to observe as Nathan made pancakes for the entire family, something he clearly didn’t know his son was capable of doing. Peter’s dad made the best pancakes, so if he really did teach Nathan how to do them he was looking forward to trying a few. Peter was always the rebel of his own family, and never spent enough time with his own father to ever pry that recipe from him. Yet it appeared that the old man had no trouble showing his grandson how to make them, which some could argue might have been a dig at the son that never talked to him that much. It must have been the summer after he left his mother, Peter thought to himself. That summer Christina had to get major surgery done and since Peter was on a book tour, Christine asked his Dad to watch Nathan which his was more than happy to do. Spending time with Grandma and Grandpa did the little guy a lot of good cause spending time with grandparents shielded him from the pain he might have gone through living that summer in a broken household. Peter assumed that his own dad must have shown Nathan how to make his infamous pancakes to help him in the future, because the old man always said nothing would impress people more than a man who can make and flip a good flapjack.

Peter closed the notebook and watched as Nathan made over a dozen pancakes in less than fifteen minutes. The old man had indeed taught him well because he had three pans and burners on at the same time and a plate in the microwave to take the early ones to keep the warm while the others are made. When it was all said and done, a half hour was all Nathan needed to make more than enough for the whole household to make, a gesture Peter was sure to appease the house and its masters. Sonya came down the stairs with a puzzled look on her face.

“Who’s been making pancakes?” She called out.

“Nathan did!” One of the girls called back up.

Nathan served the girls first because he had made special pancakes just for them. The old man had shown him how to make different shapes like stars, triangles and other cool things that really impressed the young girls. Jacob didn’t care as a pancake was a pancake and he thanked his step-bro for making them and proceeded to eat them en mass. Peter took only two, and even with that small amount he never finished them. Nathan looked quite confused when he noticed this.

“Is there anything wrong with your pancakes, Dad?” he asked.

“No, it’s very good.” Peter answered, “Better than your grandfathers actually. I just don’t eat breakfast that much anymore. I also was munching on something earlier in the morning when I was writing.”

“May I then?” Jacob asked, as he had already cleared his plate. Peter passed his plate over and what was left disappeared in mere seconds. Nathan didn’t seem upset that Peter didn’t finish his serving as he was more puzzled than anything else. The young man seemed to let it pass as he went back to serving more for those who were still hungry and wanting more.

“Nathan, these are fantastic!” Sonya said as she dug into her own plate. “Where did you learn how to make these?”

“Grandpa showed me how when I spent the summer with him.” Nathan answered without turning back.

“Will grandpa show me how to make them too?” one of the young girls asked with a grin on her face.

Sonya was a little stunned by this question, but Peter stepped in to help her out.

“I’m sorry honey, but that Grandpa is no longer with us.” Peter informed her, “But I’m sure if you’re good Nathan would be more than happy to teach you how to make them when you’re old enough to use the oven.”

The little girl turned to Nathan who had just sat down to eat his own portion.

“Of course,” Nathan confirmed, “When she’s old enough to learn.”

The table became a little quieter after that as everyone concentrated on working on their breakfast. Peter was the first to leave the table and he took his laptop with him to the back porch. He had a small chair and table set up so that he could watch the beach and the kids from there while getting some work done at the same time. Ray had even installed an outlet out there for him so that his laptop wouldn’t have any battery issues, which would allow Peter to write there for hours or days on end if he wanted to. Peter had taken his coffee out with him, and the kids could hear the furious sound of fingers hitting the keyboard as he resumed working on his latest project.

Sonya left the table to get herself a cup of coffee and Nathan used the moment to speak with Jacob.

“Hey bud,” Nathan started. “How long has that been happening?”

“What are you talking about?” Jacob asked.

“Dad not eating his food.” Nathan asked. “It happened the first night I was here and then again this morning. He’s not eating anything.”

“To be honest,” Jacob said, as he stood to take his dishes to the sink, “I first started noticing this about a month or two ago. I’m not sure why, but he just doesn’t seem to be that hungry lately.”

Nathan watched Peter from the table and then went back to his own breakfast. Something didn’t seem right but at the moment he decided it wasn’t his place to pry too much, at least for the time being. His grandpa had always told him that pancakes make everything better and as usual the old bugger was right. Nathan didn’t have to worry about the dishes because Jacob has already made up some water and cleaned up everything to show his appreciation for his belly full of flapjacks. It was one less thing Nathan had to worry about as he walked back to the living room to contemplate what he was going to do that day. He looked up on the wall and there was a massive collection of books beside the television. About four shelving units worth and for some reason Nathan couldn’t find a single book that was listed under his Dad’s name. Not much of a writer if you don’t even want to display your own work, Nathan thought as he shrugged it of and went out the back door to go for a walk and get a feel for his surroundings. While pancakes are not always going to be the answer to everything, it was enough to make the peace and set a tone for the weekend. For that little while there was a little peace and quiet in the summer house.