“I help keep the ship running.”
“So, what do you do exactly?”
“I keep up the fire-fighting equipment. A hose that doesn't work ain't much good. And I fix hatches.”
“What's a hatch?”
“They're doors on the ship, only they're the ones below the waterline. I have to make sure they're in good shape, you know, keep the gaskets and hinges working. Basically I fix whatever needs fixing.”
“Have you had any fires on your boat?” Brian asked.
“Nope.” Luke hefted the bird to the counter, then transferred it to a platter his mother had set out. “Want this on the table?”
“Yes, please.”
“So, where's Ray sitting?” he asked, resentment needling him. “Ray shouldn't be the one to slice the family turkey.” Luke carried the bird to the table.
“I was thinking that maybe you would like to carve the turkey this year,” Jean said. “You're the guest of honor, after all. You sit at one end and Ray at the other. Put the bird wherever you want.”
Brian walked to the end farthest from the back door. “Ray usually sits here,” he said.
Do I care? Luke thought angrily, but said, “All right. Then I'll sit here.” He placed the turkey at the opposite end of the table. “Where is Ray, anyway?”
“Doing chores. Susie's helping him.” Jean glanced at Brian. “Could you go out to the barn and tell them it's time to wash up?”
Just as Jean finished speaking, Ray opened the back door. His large frame filled the doorway. He stroked his trim beard and sniffed the air. “Mmm, something smells good.”
“Luke fixes stuff on his ship and fights fires,” Brian said.
“That's what I hear.” Ray's uncertain eyes settled on Luke. “I figure you're good at it too.”
Determined to be civil, Luke said, “I do OK.”
William marched in from outside. “Hi,” he said, wearing a broad smile. “Grandma, these are for you,” he said, holding up a jar of pickled beets.
“Why, thank you.” Jean took the jar and hugged the little boy.
Laurel and Adam hung their coats on the back porch and walked into the kitchen, each carrying a pie. “Afternoon, Mama,” Laurel said, planting a kiss on her mother's cheek and setting the pie in the warmer. “This is rhubarb. Adam has the blueberry. Luke's favorite, or so I hear.”
“You got that right.” Luke hugged his sister, then shook Adam's hand. “Good to see you, brother-in-law.”
Susie skipped in, her feet muddy.
“Stop right there, young lady,” Jean said. “Take off those filthy boots.”
Wearing a pout, Susie returned to the porch. Sitting on the bench, she slipped off the wayward boots and walked to the table.
“You kids get washed up,” Jean said.
Brian, Susie, and William raced for the kitchen sink, jostling for first place at the faucet. Brian, being the oldest and largest, won.
Laurel stepped around the table and hugged Ray. “Good to see you. The last couple of times I was here, you were off hunting or working on your trapline.”
Luke cringed inwardly. How can she be so friendly toward him?
“Just getting ready for winter is all.” Ray's cheery gaze settled on Jean. “Looks like the best cook in Palmer's been busy.”
Jean smiled. A flush colored her cheeks.
The display of affection sickened Luke, and he wished he could leave.
“Everything's ready.” Jean set a bowl of mashed potatoes on the table, then returned to the stove for gravy and carrots. Laurel and Adam set out the rest of the food.
Everyone sat down. Ray clasped Jean's hand and bowed his head. The rest of the family closed their eyes. “Father, we thank you for your bounty,” Ray began. “We thank you for keeping Luke safe while he serves his country. We ask, Father, that you continue to protect him, especially when he heads back to sea.” He paused. “I thank you for this fine family. You have been good to us. We praise you for all your gifts. Amen.”
Instead of listening to Ray's heart, Luke only heard his own indignation—his only thought was of his father, who wasn't sitting at the head of the table. And because of his bitterness, the celebration seemed a counterfeit. He fought the pull to leave, loving his mother too much to hurt her that way. Luke accepted a dish of sweet potatoes from Brian. Spooning out a helping, he passed it on. Staring at the orange vegetables languishing on his plate, his only thought was of Ray's unlawful claim on his home.
“Luke?”
A hand moved across his line of vision. “You there?” Adam asked.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.”
“You're supposed to slice that turkey. And I'm starved.”
“I guess my mind was somewhere else.” With as much bravado as he could muster, Luke picked up the carving set, stabbed the bird and cut into it, then distributed portions of roasted meat.
For several minutes everyone ate in relative silence, except for occasional compliments to the cook and questions about food preparation. Finally, their hunger partially satiated, they slowed their eating and Adam asked, “So, Luke, what do you expect in the Pacific?”
