unusual had just happened. “Cole, let's start setting the table and, Mara, why don't you prepare the salad. Elliott should be home soon.”
Cole and I exchanged looks of amazement. Only my grandmother could have
something so marvelous happen in front of her and then worry about getting a meal ready.
Kissing me on the forehead, Cole whispered, “She’s an incredible woman.”
While Cole set the table, I began to chop the vegetables. The fresh smell of cucumbers, carrots, celery, radishes, and crisp leafy lettuce permeated the air around me. It reminded me of my youth.
I recalled Gram teaching me. She’d taught me how to grow the vegetables
and when to pick them from our garden. The warm breath of her voice in my ear
as she guided me to properly use the knife and the best way to cut each item came back in a flood of memories.
“I think we have enough for the salad, Mara.” Gram interrupted my
daydream.
Before me, I had a rainbow of chopped vegetables.
Gram nodded at a bowl. “Put the extras in there. Tomorrow's breakfast will
be bursting with veggies.”
Smiling, I took the bowl from her and set it down. “I was thinking about how
you taught me to make a salad. I was caught up in the memory.” Hugging her, I
whispered, “I love you, Gram. I never needed Eliza to come home and be my mother. I always had you.”
Chapter
Twenty-Six
By the time Elliott returned, dinner was ready, and Cole was eager to dig
in. After we enjoyed the fresh vegetable salad, drizzled with raspberry
vinaigrette, Gram brought us each an individual chicken potpie. The
buttery crust of the pies held a creamy gravy full of carrots, peas, potatoes, celery, and chunks of savory pieces of chicken.
“Mae, thank you for making this. I have been dreaming of the day I would
come home to you all, and I would be lying if I didn't admit your cooking was
sadly missed while I was gone.” Elliott took a big bite and groaned his delight.
At, Cole told stories of our childhood and the mischief we had gotten into together. It felt like we really were a family, eating a typical evening meal. I was
even able to push back my anger and sadness about my sister not being here, with us, and my fear of what tonight would reveal. However, a silence eventually
fell over the table.
I wasn’t sure what had caused the change. Maybe it was because the meal
was so delicious that words would have taken from the enjoyment of eating. Or,
perhaps, it was because we all knew there was a larger issue hovering. In the end, it really didn’t matter.
When we had eaten every crumb, I began to clear the dishes. As I returned to
my seat, Elliott was the first to speak.
“I think it’s probably time we try that spell. I don't want to wait another day
for you to know, in your heart, whether I'm your father or not. I failed you before, and I don't want you to doubt me anymore.”
Elliott looked sad but resolute. “Of course, I don’t blame you – any of you.
Who would ever believe the story I told you? It sounds crazy and made up, even
to me. After all, what kind of man leaves his family?”
He closed his eyes and sighed deeply before he continued. “That is what
