by Rula Sinara
“Yes, I know him,” she said, clearing her voice. “But mostly I knew his wife, Zoe. She was my best friend. The person I called if I needed to talk, and she did the same when the kids were in bed and Ben was overseas.”
“Oh, my God. I’m sorry. I had no idea,” Hope said.
Brie got up. She sniffed. “Let me go get his order, and I’ll be back.”
Hope nodded, knowing she needed a minute alone. She should never have come here. It was a crazy idea, but watching a million different expressions flit across Maddie’s face, especially smiles, as she was reading that book, made her think…
Brie took payment from the last couple in the place, then disappeared and returned with their change before running back to check on Cooper’s order.
A staccato beat emanated from the corner of the room. Cooper pulled out a cell phone and agreed to go in for some sort of appointment a little earlier than planned. He got up and headed for the bar. Wolf wagged and licked at his leg again. The man stooped down.
“Hey, boy. Wolf. It’s a good name.” Wolf put his paw on the man’s knee. “Yeah, I know you can tell. Just keep it to yourself. Deal?” He scratched Wolf behind his ears and stood up so fast when the kitchen door swung open and Brie stepped out that his shoulder hit the bar stool next to him. He straightened it, and his face turned almost as red as Brie’s hair.
“Uh, I’m sorry. I know dogs in training shouldn’t be distracted.”
“It’s okay,” she said, looking between Wolf and Cooper. “He likes you for some reason.”
As if she didn’t.
“Did you know Ben had someone staying at his house?” she asked, nodding over at Hope. Cooper frowned and looked. Hope got out of the booth and walked over to them, keeping a safe distance from the dog. She didn’t like being talked about like some intruder. She stuck her hand out to Cooper. He shook it.
“I’m Hope. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Hope, Cooper is a friend of Ben’s. Hope here is a friend of his, too.”
Now, that didn’t sound right.
“I’m helping his family as a nanny,” Hope clarified.
“He might have mentioned something,” Cooper said. “Uh, I need to go, so if you don’t mind canceling the order, Brie. Sorry.” He turned to leave.
“I can have it packed to go for you. It’s almost done,” Brie said, stepping after him and clinging to the fact that he’d managed to say a complete sentence to her. The guy shook his head apologetically.
“I can’t take it where I’m headed.”
“Cooper, wait,” she called after him again. “Don’t forget we’re serving a turkey special tomorrow. And of course the band will be here Friday. I noticed you always come for the bands, so…” She shrugged, trying to make it all sound matter-of-fact. He nodded, but turned and left without another word. Brie seemed to deflate.
“I need to leave, too,” Hope said. “Never mind about my idea. I didn’t know.”
“Hope, don’t go. Grab a stool. Please.”
Hope hopped onto a bar stool several seats away from the dog, her illogical side reminding her that she liked her ankles. Brie sat next to her.
“How are the kids?”
She didn’t know? She wasn’t seeing them? But she’d been Zoe’s friend.
“I’m a little lost here,” Hope said. Something was off. Maybe talking about the kids to a “friend,” who apparently wasn’t in touch, wasn’t a good idea. “Everyone here seems to know each other. How could you not know how Ben’s children are doing?”
“I haven’t seen them in a long time. I don’t really know Cooper well. I met him briefly at Zoe’s funeral. He dropped some stuff off from Ben shortly after. He used to come in here to drink at the bar, but not anymore. No alcohol. He comes to eat, listen to music and then he leaves. I think he likes the food, just not me. Probably because Ben ordered him not to.”
“What?”
“Ben Corallis is the reason this place isn’t doing well. He blamed me for Zoe’s death, and he made sure everyone knew it.”
CHAPTER NINE
Dear Diary,
It’s Thanksgiving. I don’t want to go to Grandma and Grandpa’s, but I know they’re going to make me. I want to stay in my room. Mommy loved to cook and she won’t be there to help.
HOPE COULDN’T BELIEVE the size of the bird Nina had managed to fit in her oven. Chickens were much easier to come by than turkeys in Kenya, and her expat patients, or friends like Jack and Anna, had told her they cooked chickens during their American holidays abroad.
The sound of cheers carried from the living room, where Eric was watching American football with his leg propped up on an ottoman. She could hear him trying to coax Chad to pay attention to the game. Ben was feeding Ryan a bottle in front of the television and Maddie was out there, too. She’d made it quite clear she didn’t want to help in the kitchen. Hope couldn’t blame her. She wanted to go find out what all the game excitement was about, but Nina needed help and she was the only person free.
Hope carefully cut the tomatoes she was supposed to add to the salad. The cucumbers still waited their turn. Nina smiled and motioned toward Hope’s cutting board.
“With pieces that perfectly sized, we may be having that salad at Christmas. It’s salad, not surgery.”
“But it’ll look good,” Hope said. She rubbed her cheek on her shoulder to soothe an itch while keeping her hands clean. Sure, she had cutting skills—with a scalpel. In the kitchen, not so much. In fact, her precision with a scalpel had her professors once urging her to go into surgery. She hated surgery, almost as much as she hated seeing children sick or suffering. She was hating salad making, too.
“Right before it gets chewed up,” Nina said. “Honestly, you don’t have to be quite that careful. The salad needs to make it to the table before the pumpkin pie.”
Hope stretched her back. Don’t let it bother you. It’s a tough day for them. You can deal with being compared to Zoe for today. You’ll live.
“I’ve never tasted pumpkin pie,” Hope said.
“Never had pumpkin pie? You’re in for a treat,” Nina said, mashing boiled potatoes in a large bowl. “Does pumpkin even grow in Kenya?”
“Yes. We call it malenge and use it mostly in savory dishes.” Hope scraped the chopped tomato into the bowl and started on the next one. “We have a dish for special occasions, mukimo. It’s made with pumpkin leaves, potatoes, corn and beans. The same ingredients you have here, but a very different dish.”
“You eat pumpkin leaves?” Nina asked, stopping midmash.
“You don’t?” Hope really wanted to ask Nina exactly what had happened when Zoe was killed, but she didn’t dare. Not today. She reached for the cucumber and rolled her shoulders. “The dish I’m powerless against is a sweeter one made with pumpkin, coconut milk, cardamom and sugar. I’ll do anything for it.”
“Good to know,” Ben said. He filled the doorway to the kitchen. He was holding Ryan with his hand pressed protectively against the baby’s back. Ryan’s ruby-red cheek was nestled against Ben’s shoulder, and his eyes were closed. The juxtaposition of tiny, innocent, helpless child against towering, jaded, protective man was almost poetic.
“Food’s not ready yet. No loitering. Anyone in the kitchen has to work,” Nina warned.
“But my hands are full, and it looks as though you’ve got a sous chef.” Ben raised a brow at Hope. “You should come over here every day for lessons,” he added. Hope opened her eyes wide and shook her head at him while Nina’s back was turned.
“Grandma, I made a touchdown!” Chad yelled, squeezing between Ben and the door frame. He circled the breakfast table while punching a fist into the air, then headed back for the living room. “Hoorah!”
“He needs to stay out of the kitchen,” Nina said. She set some butter in the microwave to melt and wiped her hands on her apron. “I need to hold this little munchkin for a minute before I finish cooking.” She reached up and peeled Ryan off Ben’s shoulder.
Ryan’s face contorted and turned even redder…then relaxed. He patted Nina’s cheek and gurgled with his eyes closed.
“Whew!” Nina said, waving the air.
“Your timing, not mine.” Ben grinned, raising his palms. Nina rolled her eyes.
“Then you get to baste the turkey.”
She left, and Ben opened the oven to beat the turkey. Hope had no idea what that would accomplish. He started squirting it with an oversize dropper.
You’re alone. Ask him why he blames Brie for his wife’s death. Why he’d ruin a person’s livelihood. She was living under his roof. She had a right to know what kind of man he really was, didn’t she?
“Ben—” She cut herself off when Maddie appeared at the kitchen door, carrying an armful of stuffed animals. She stood there studying Hope from over their heads.
“Please, tell me that you and your friends are going to take over my job here,” Hope said to Maddie.
Maddie shook her head just as Ben looked up from giving the turkey a bath. “Are you hungry?” he asked.
Again a head shake. Ben and Hope exchanged glances.
“Well, there happens to be an empty stool here,” Hope said. “You’re welcome to keep me company—or not.” She resumed her chopping as if salad making was fascinating business.
“You’re right, Hope,” Ben said, taking the hint. “Half the fun of Thanksgiving is hanging out before the food’s ready. Building that appetite.” He shut the oven door, went to the pies on the counter, bent down and inhaled. A colander of red berries sat dripping dry next to a food processor by the sink. He grabbed one and looked over at Hope as he tossed it in his mouth.
Hope put the last of the salad ingredients into the bowl.
“Did your uncle Jack and auntie Anna send you those animals? They look African.”
Maddie nodded. Ben ate another berry.
“Which one is your favorite?”
Maddie held up the monkey.
“We have lots of them where I’m from. Especially at Busara, where Jack lives. I’ve heard crazy stories about one that follows Anna around throwing things to get her attention. You should come and visit someday.”
Maddie’s eyes opened wide, and she nodded.
Hope moved to the sink to rinse the cutting board and knife.
Ben grabbed a few more berries and moved out of her way. She glanced at the berries as she washed and set the board to dry in the dish rack.
“What are these?” she asked as she went back to the island to toss the salad. Maddie’s face wrinkled. Ben made a guttural sound of appreciation as he popped another in his mouth.
“Cranberries. Very sweet. Taste a bit like honey. Go ahead and try one. There’s more than enough for the relish Nina makes.”
“Okay.”
Hope went back to the sink, popped a few cranberries in her mouth and chewed.
She screeched like a monkey, slapping her hand to her mouth and scrunching her face. She swallowed as fast as she could. She shuddered and her eyes watered.
“You said sweet! How in the world do you keep a straight face eating those things?”
“Skills,” he said, with the corner of his mouth turned up.
A muffled giggle came from Maddie. They both heard it but kept their eyes on each other, afraid of reacting the wrong way. Maddie ran back to the living room, and Ben turned to where she’d been.
Hope put a hand on Ben’s arm, and he covered it with his.
“It’ll happen, Ben. She needs time, but it will happen.”
*
IF BEN HADN’T bought into Nina’s reasons for giving thanks, he certainly had one now. Maddie had laughed. It wasn’t words, like he’d heard the other night, but she’d let it out in front of him and Hope.
And that morning, he’d found Maddie with her face pressed against the window in the family room, as if she wanted to break through. He wished he could break through to her. It was Hope, however, who’d finally gotten her ready to leave the house to go to her grandparents’.
She’d taken Maddie to the bathroom, and then Mads had reappeared with braids. Ben never bothered much with her hair, other than to tell her to brush it—he didn’t do girl hair. Occasionally, if tangles got too out of hand for even that magic spray from the drugstore, he enlisted Nina’s help. But this morning, Maddie had her hair in two long braids, the fancy kind that looked woven against the head—the way Zoe used to fix it.
Maddie had looked at him expectantly, her eyes bigger and brighter with her hair pulled away from her face, as though curtains had been opened. And when he’d told her that her hair looked nice, he was rewarded with the tiniest of smiles, which meant he’d said the right thing. And then, instead of walking past him to head out the door, she’d grabbed his hand and pulled him outside.
Ben had followed, feeling as if he’d scaled a mountain, yet also feeling awkward. A father holding his daughter’s hand shouldn’t have felt awkward.
And then, here at her grandparents’, she’d giggled. He’d been teasing Hope, had lost himself for a moment. He’d let go. Let himself have fun. And it had made his daughter happy. Made him happy.
Don’t let your guard down. Don’t relax. You lost Zoe that way.
He released Hope’s hand, and she pulled hers away.
“I’m going to toss,” she said, pointing toward the salad.
“I’m gonna go catch some more of the game,” he said, and left the kitchen.
*
NINA WAS BUCKLING Ryan into his bouncy seat near the sofa where Eric was sitting. Chad had abandoned the football game and was playing with a train that circled the base of the Christmas tree his grandparents had already set up in front of the bay window.
“Where’s Maddie?” Ben asked.
“Upstairs watching cartoons on the TV in our room,” Nina said. “We still have an hour or so before the turkey will be done.”
Ben had worried for nothing. Again. His kids would be fine—happy—living here. He’d send his paycheck and take leave to visit. Maybe he’d even sell his house and put the money in savings for them. Maybe if he did that, every wall, every nook, every cranny, wouldn’t remind them of their mother being gone. And maybe Mads would be able to move on.
Cooper hadn’t responded to his email about the start-up company. It was looking more and more as though returning to duty, plan B, was going to happen. His only other option would be to land a job in Washington, DC. Some of those high-clearance jobs paid well. But since he’d been cautioned about uprooting his daughter so soon, he’d still have to consider leaving her and her brothers with their grandparents. Maddie and Chad were used to them, seemed comfortable around them. Ryan was still young and adaptable. Ryan was the only one of the four of them who wouldn’t have any real memories of his mother. Only photos and stories. His eyes burned. If he returned to duty, there’d be a chance that Ryan would never have memories of his dad, either.
Ben fought the urge to go home to hide and think…away from everyone. Isolate himself, like Maddie was doing with her silence.
He fidgeted with the keys in his pocket. He was here because deep down he knew the kids needed to be here. He knew Eric and Nina needed them around. And he’d invited Coop, because it was better for him to be with friends than a bottle. If Coop didn’t show up, Ben would take turkey and stuffing to him and shove it down his throat.
*
HOPE COULDN’T BELIEVE she’d eaten so much, but that pie. Had she known how sinfully good it would be, she’d have saved more room. She couldn’t help but watch in awe as the men inhaled their third helpings. Ben had looked more than a little irritated when she and Cooper had told him they’d met at Bentley’s. Brie would undoubtedly be disappointed when Cooper never showed for turkey at the pub.
They had not gone around the table giving thanks, the way Nina wanted. But Ben had come into the kitchen while they were getting ready to set the table and convinced her to spare them, stating first, that he didn’t want to regret coming, second, that Cooper a
nd Hope would feel uncomfortable with all the emotional vomit and third, that Maddie would be put on the spot.
Hope had thought he was being a bit harsh, but the part about Maddie was true. It was why Nina had agreed and let Eric say a group thanks instead. A speech that had included thanks for the two fine men at the table returning home from war safe and sound. She didn’t miss the way both Ben and Cooper had flinched at the words. Safe and sound…but not unbroken.
*
“I MUST STILL be jet-lagged,” Hope said as she started on her second cup of coffee. The table was still loaded with dessert but no one had room. “I’m embarrassed to say I’m so sleepy.”
“It’s the turkey. You either have to sleep it off, or caffeinate, then sleep it off,” Cooper said with a wry smile. He reached for his mug of coffee.
His arm bumped against Chad’s unfinished cup of milk. It toppled on its side and rolled into Hope’s lap. Everyone’s hands flew up reflexively to stop it, and the kids, watching a cartoon on TV, craned their necks to see what the commotion was about.
Cooper apologized profusely, turning his head to assess the mess while pushing his chair back to get up and help.
“It’s no problem,” Hope said. She lifted the bottom-weighted cup back onto the table. “Don’t worry. Not much spilled.”
Everyone passed napkins down the table. Hope had a surplus.
“Eric, do you want to tell them or should I?” Nina said, changing the subject.
“What?” Ben sat forward.
“Surgery on my knee,” Eric said. “An outpatient procedure. They said that they’d go in with tiny incisions and see what’s wrong, and if it’s something they can fix, they’ll do it right then. It’s called an ortho something.”
“Arthroscopic surgery,” Hope said.
“Yes, that’s it,” Nina said. “I plan on being at the hospital, of course, and driving him home. We wanted you to know, Ben and Hope, in case something comes up with the kids.”
Ben put his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “I’ll come to the surgery. We can take my car.”
“You don’t have to do that. It’s an out—”
