Take It All Away

Adam and I both spent at least half an hour trying to tame our hair.

I sighed. “Maybe I should have had Ezra cut off all my hair.”

Adam laughed. “You have beautiful hair; it’s fine.”

Finally we managed to get it under control and we put our coats on. His parents didn’t live far so we walked.

“Don’t even think about it,” I said when Eric balled up some snow.

“Party pooper,” he pouted and tossed it over his shoulder.

“I’m still sore from yesterday,” Adam said, stretching.

“What exactly are we doing?” Jacob asked as we climbed the front stairs.

It had obviously snowed heavily over the night. We took our boots off before venturing further into the house.

“I thought you’d never get here,” Joan laughed when she saw us.

“I smell pancakes!” Eric sang and ran into the kitchen.

“I’m glad you came,” Joan smiled at me, handing me a plate of chocolate chip pancakes.

“Adam said you guys were getting ready for Thanksgiving so I thought maybe I could make my pumpkin pie and pumpkin bread.”

Joan clapped her hands twice. “Perfect! Boys, you help Randal. Violet and I are going shopping!”

I followed Joan out to her station wagon. I got into the passenger’s side and Joan started the car.

“So, are those two things your specialty?” Joan asked as she pulled onto the street.

I nodded with a smile. “My grandmother taught me.”

“Your mother didn’t?”

I hesitated. “We don’t have the best relationship,” I said simply.

“I’m very sorry to hear that. Is that why you live in a hotel?” she asked and I looked out the window.

“Are you making turkey?” I asked and she seemed to take the hint.

“My husband is,” she nodded. “He makes the best turkey!”

We pulled into a small grocery store and walked in. I always loved grocery shopping but I had been a while.

“How many people will be here?” I asked, getting a cart.

“There will be 10,” she answered.

“I’ll make two pies and two loaves of bread,” I said thoughtfully. “That should be enough for everyone.”

“I can tell my son likes you,” she said quietly and I accidentally ran the cart into a pole that was in the middle of the aisle. “Oh dear! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I mumbled, knowing that my face was red. “Just lost control for a second there.”

“Do you like my son?”

I sighed, looking at the different mixtures of pumpkin puree. “To be honest, Mrs. Young-”

“Joan, please.”

“Joan,” I corrected. “I’m a little scared.”

“Let’s take a break,” she said quickly and took me to the small deli that served food. She ordered some popcorn chicken and potato wedges. “There’s something you haven’t told me or Adam.”

I chewed on a couple pieces of popcorn chicken. “When I was in high school, my ex-boyfriend raped me,” I muttered and she gasped, putting her hand over her mouth. “I was a minor and he was a college student. My dad was furious and pressed charges.” I took some more popcorn chicken. “He was in jail for at least a year.”

“I’m so sorry, my dear,” she whispered, putting a hand on mine. “Is that why you’re scared?”

I nodded. “When we first started talking everything was normal but now… I don’t think he likes me. He probably just feels bad for us getting mobbed at the hotel.”

“My son would never hurt you,” she frowned.

“Can we just shop some more?” I asked and she smiled kindly. “And, please, let’s keep this between us?”

“Of course,” she promised. “It’s your story to tell, not mine.”

“Thanks.”

-

When we pulled up, we heard a loud crashing noise and Joan dropped her bags.

“What’s going on?” she cried and gathered up the bags.

We ran into the house, putting the bags on the counter and looking around.

“No! Don’t, Adam!” we heard Eric yell from upstairs and we heard another crashing noise.

Joan and I ran upstairs to the backroom. I threw the door open, expecting to see a mess. Instead, all men were gathered around a ping pong table. Adam and his father were playing, both laughing and hitting the ball as hard as they could. Trophies were scattered on the floor and one lamp was already broken.

“And what do you think you’re doing!?” Joan yelled and they all stopped.

“Uh-oh,” Randal said, grinning. “The boss is back.”

“Don’t move,” Joan snapped at Adam who was trying to sneak behind them. “You sweep up that mess. And Randal, you can start working on that turkey! As for you three,” she rounded on Jacob, Mark, and Eric, “you can get downstairs and set up the tables. Everyone will be here in two days!”

They filed out guiltily and Joan walked back down the stairs in a huff. I looked over at Adam who was trying his best not to laugh. I shook my head at him but I couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

“I’m going to go bake,” I laughed.

-

Aside from the ping pong mess, the rest of the day passed peacefully. After they set up the tables, the men gathered in the living room to watch football while I rolled out the pie crusts.

“Need any help?” Adam asked, coming in. “I’m not a fan of football.”

Joan had gone to lie down.

“Sure,” I said and gestured at the mixing bowl. “I have all the ingredients in there; I just need you to mix it all together.”

He rolled his sleeves up and picked up the whisk.

“Touchdown!” Randal yelled in the other room.

“Did you have a good time shopping with my mom?” he asked, leaning back on the counter and holding the bowl while he mixed.

I nodded. “She’s a great woman.”

He smiled. “She’s amazing. Well, it’s all mixed.”

I lined the pie pans with the crusts and poured the mixture in.

“Next, the pumpkin bread,” I said.

I pulled out the flour while I told him how much of each ingredient to mix together. I gathered some flour and put it through the sifter.

“Let a man do that,” Adam said, sniffing haughtily.

I arched a brow. “Let me go get Mark then.” He nudged me and took the sifter from my hands. “Slowly,” I said quickly when he started to crank the handle.

“Oh, please. What can possibly-”

A poof of flour erupted and he stopped. I couldn’t help it and started laughing. When the cloud subsided, he emerged with his face and hair dusted with flour.

“Think it’s funny, huh?” he asked.

“No. I think it’s hilarious.”

He narrowed his eyes and scooped some flour out of the bag and threw it at me. I squealed.

“Hey!”

We went into a violent flour fight until I slipped on some mixture that had fallen on the floor.

“Violet!” he yelled and tried to help me up only to lose his footing on a thick patch of flour.

He landed on his butt painfully and I laughed, brushing the flour off of my shirt. Laughing, he shook his head like a dog, making another cloud of flour spread through the room. Our eyes met.

“You’ve got some flour on your nose,” he said quietly.

“So do you,” I whispered and brushed it off.

“What in the world happened?”

We jumped and looked up. Joan was standing with her hands on her hips.

“Uh,” we said in unison.

“The flour exploded,” I blurted out and she narrowed her eyes, tossing us a mop and broom.

Still chuckling, I stood up and started sweeping.