Читать книгу A Family Thing - Randy Beal - Страница 4

The house rose up to meet us on the right. "Can't miss that," I thought. It was the only house on this stretch of County Road 10. I was told it would be a white farmhouse, but years of aging and weather damage had yellowed it, like a smoker's smile. One of the shutters on the second level was missing a hinge and leaned inward, as if the house were winking at me.

As we turned down the gravel drive, I realized I was excited to be here--my first family reunion since I was a child. Dad and I made the trek down from the suburbs of Chicago early that morning. I smiled to see the porch swing in the same spot and remembered sitting there in Grandpa's lap, trying to stay awake to hear his stories as the sun was setting.

Dad popped the car into park and fished in the back seat to grab our obligatory out-of-towner's bucket of chicken. I grabbed some lawn chairs from the trunk. We made our way around to the back.

I saw a lot of familiar faces that were somehow hard to place. Groups of grey-haired ladies were bunched up under a patio umbrella sipping iced teas. Some of them waved. One lady carrying a casserole came over to hug my dad and motioned a man in a plaid vest over. "You remember little Donnie, don't you?" she nudged him. "And this must be Jacob." She transferred the casserole to her partner and pulled me in for a hug.

"Good to see you," I offered generically. Dad must have realized I was struggling, so he interjected, "Jake, this is Ellie."

"How have you been?" I followed up, just as generically. Thankfully, just at that moment, one of the kitchen ladies called her back for a consultation. Her casserole-toting partner (I assumed a husband, but didn't know) left with her.

Dad walked up to a man and woman that looked to be about his age. I followed. "There he is!" the man shouted, making a gun with his fingers and shooting it. He took a shot at me, too, then blew the imaginary smoke off the barrel. Dad didn't wait for me to make small talk this time.

"Jake, this is Gail and Clayton. They live in Kentucky and they took care of you after you had that accident."

By then, the masses of relatives had formed a circle around us. Dad began to introduce them in quick-fire fashion.

"This is Jack. And yes, his wife, Jill. No kidding. This is Lewis, whom you know. He lives about two miles up the road. This is Phillip. You met Ellie and Hank. And who can forget Chester, the saint of the family?"

I shook all the hands and nodded and repeated their names and then someone put a plate of food and a drink in my hands. So I found a seat and fell to it. I couldn’t wait to dig in. There was brisket, a couple of different casseroles, baked beans, and pecan pie. This was going to be a good day.