Fifteen

I WAS PRETTY MUCH OVERWHELMED with good feelings with my family visiting. The boys were out of school for the week—a smart move on the part of their school. They were so excited to have grandparents around that they could hardly sit. Kate and Melody and I all had classes through Wednesday, but Melody cut Tuesday afternoon to pick Lexi up at the airport. No amount of cajoling would get Harold to come, too.

Jack, however, came over at our invitation Tuesday night and was obviously pleased to see Lexi. Things had changed for Lexi, though. She was no longer looking at divorce, even though she and her husband were separated. I don’t think the idea of being with another man while she was married was in her character. Still, she liked Jack and adored the boys, so we all had a very pleasant evening.

Thursday morning, we were all going crazy. I have no idea where Lissa found the twenty-two-pound turkey that she insisted I was going to cook on the grill. The one we won in the racquetball tournament was less than half that size. Lissa found a recipe for the turkey that required that we press most of a bulb of garlic in slivers through slits in the skin then baste the bird with melted butter, orange juice, and whiskey. I had to get it in the oven before nine o’clock in the morning because it was going to cook there for three hours before I put it on the grill for another three—assuming I could keep the heat in the grill pretty constant. We’d gone out to buy an extra gas tank yesterday to make sure we didn’t run out in the middle of cooking. The bird barely fit in the grill and the oven would be in use for pies and casseroles.

Wendy came over and immediately took charge of the kitchen. She loves to organize a party. I was pleased to see that she did it with quiet, calm authority, and not like a servant. Lissa made pies, Mom had her scalloped potatoes underway, Lexi mashed yams and carrots, and Melody organized appetizer trays and condiments. Kate put salads together and Bree joined in setting the table and making drinks while ‘us men’ were sent to the deck to mind the bird.

The men took Drew and Damon to the back yard and played a game of touch football. It was hilarious, even though I had to run back to the deck every few minutes to make sure the grill was still at the right temperature, the gas hadn’t run out, and the turkey was basted.

By two o’clock, all the food was in its ‘almost ready’ stage and the women came out to play as well. I decided to show off. I took the ball and charted all the obstacles in the yard. I ran toward the house and everyone thought they had me boxed in. They were really surprised when I took two steps up a support post for the deck, grabbed the railing, swung to my left and slid down the hand rail for the stairs. I dove through the swing-set, took one bounce on the mini-trampoline, landed on the edge of a flower planter and did a forward roll across the goal line. By that time, everybody was just looking at me, not even trying to chase me down anymore. I laughed so hard my side hurt.

“We need a running back on the football team, Tony,” Sam said.

“Well, if we played on the street or in the middle of Pike Place Market, maybe,” I laughed. “A football field doesn’t have enough stationary obstacles.”

“Where did you learn that, son?” Dad asked.

“Coach Fredericks has been training me in Parkour. I’m called a traceur or just tracer. We meet outside and I just chase him wherever he goes. There are some pretty wild places to run around campus.” I was panting a little as I ran back up to the deck to check the turkey. The temperature needle was finally rising.

“I’m thankful for my families—both the one I was born into and the one I’ve chosen,” I said as we all held hands around the table.

“I’m thankful for people who understand me and help me to grow,” Wendy said quietly.

“I’m thankful for my father,” Bree said.

“I’m thankful for Grandmas and Grandpa,” Damon said.

And so it went around the table. It wasn’t religious or anything, but it was Thanksgiving and we’d decided to all just say one sentence about what we were thankful for on this day. Then we fell to the food and there was a lot of conversation. You couldn’t hold a single conversation at a table with thirteen people, but I caught snatches of what was said by everyone. We mixed up the places so none of the couples (or more) was actually sitting next together. I was between Damon and Bree.

We really filled that dining room.

“So Bree, you still live at home with your dad, right?” Mom asked. Bree nodded. “And Kate, you live in a dorm—most of the time?” Kate grinned at her and nodded. “Where do you live, Wendy?” I choked on my drink, but didn’t make a scene.

“I have a place near campus with some other people,” Wendy said softly. She didn’t mention which campus or what kind of place and I breathed a little easier when Lissa jumped back into the conversation.

“Are you ready for all of us to invade Boston for the holiday?”

“Oh yes. You know, for all my good intentions, I still don’t have the house on the market. There is so much to sort and decide what to do with. But that means there will be plenty of room for everyone.”

“Well, we’re only there for a week, Mom,” Melody said. “Tony gets out of school the seventh, but Kate and I don’t get out until the sixteenth. Then we’re all flying to Nebraska on Christmas day.”

“And on that end, I have to be back for classes on the third, so we’re coming back here and Kate’s family is coming for New Year’s Eve,” I said. “It’s going to be a wild holiday.”

We all cleared the table. There were going to be plenty of leftovers. We decided to wait until evening for dessert, even though the boys thought they wanted pumpkin pie right away.

I think Dad thought he’d be in time to catch the Cornhuskers game, but he made an off-hand comment as we entered the living room.

“You seem to have quite a collection of drums in here. Who plays?”

We’d added a Conga drum and a set of bongos to the big drum that Kate’s grandfather sent me. There were a couple smaller drums for the boys and a few other rhythm instruments. We played for a while each Sunday afternoon before Kate went back to the dorm.

“Well, Dad,” I said, “those are magic drums.” I looked up and caught Kate’s eye. Her mouth was open. I nodded to her and she left. She caught Melody as she left and whispered in her ear. Melody grabbed Wendy and Bree and took them out of the room. I handed the Conga drum to Dad, the bongos to Jack and gave Mom and Lexi woodblocks. Damon and Drew knew what was coming next and already had their drums in hand. I called Sam over and handed a pair of mallets to him and sat opposite the big drum with my own mallets.

I started a smooth steady beat quietly as I narrated. Lissa looked into the room, saw none of the younger women were there and left immediately.

“We’ve discovered that there’s music everywhere. You know I listen to music when I paint. I’ve seen you tapping along with the beat when you listen to music.” By this time the boys had already begun to join me and Sam and Jack were hitting the drums experimentally. “Just join the rhythm. Last month, Lissa and I inadvertently planted a song in our opponent’s heads as we entered the court for our last open doubles match. The four of us danced through that game.” Dad had gotten into the rhythm and I was surprised that he was no slouch when it came to beating that drum. Mom and Lexi had joined in on their woodblocks.

“You see,” I continued with the drum getting louder. “When people feel the rhythm, they just have to dance!” I sent out three loud bangs and then swept my hands to the side. There was one more stray beat before everyone was silent. Then we heard the cymbals.