Lisa was impressed by the speech. Her father usually wasn’t very good at expressing his feelings.
“May I say something, too?” Peter said. At his father’s nod, he reached over and took Greta’s hand in his. “I just want to say thank you to Dad and Evelyn for welcoming us into your house for Thanksgiving. And I also want to say that I will be forever thankful that Greta and I found each other.”
“Thank you, darling.” Greta squeezed his hand, then glanced at Mr. Atwood and Evelyn. “I, too, wish to give my thanks to you for making room in your home for my family. In my family, we would say, Ich will das Tischgebet sprechen, which means ‘I wish to give thanks.’ And so I wish to do, for my health, my children, my wonderful husband, and all of you here.”
Lisa was even more surprised by Greta’s gracious speech than she had been by her father’s. Everyone else seemed to be, too. There was a moment of silence as everyone at the table sat in thought.
“Hey.” Dieter spoke up suddenly, breaking the spell. “Are we going to eat or what?”
The adults laughed. “Sure,” Evelyn said. “Let’s dig in. Dieter, would you pass the salad around?”
Dieter grabbed the salad bowl and shoved it toward Mr. Atwood, who accepted the bowl but frowned slightly when he looked into it. “Honey,” he said, “was the market out of avocados again?”
Lisa bent her head over her plate to hide a smile as Dieter and Hanni started to giggle wildly.
“Could you please pass the potatoes, Carole?”
Carole looked up from her plate with a start. It had been silent in the dining room for so long, she’d almost forgotten that her father was there. For once, though, her mind was only partly occupied with thoughts of Pine Hollow, Starlight, and the rest. She couldn’t seem to stop thinking about the look on Zani’s face when she’d hopped onto that new swing for the first time. Or the expression in Ben’s eyes when he’d spotted her approaching.…
“Um, sure, Dad.” Carole picked up the warm casserole beside her plate and handed it over.
Her father accepted it with a nod. “Thanks.”
Carole bit her lip. Her father had done all the cooking this year, since Carole had returned home from her Hometown Hope project only half an hour before dinner. As usual, he’d whipped up many of the traditional southern favorites his mother and grandmother had taught him during his Georgia boyhood, and the whole house smelled delicious. But Carole didn’t have much of an appetite. Usually holiday dinners were a special time for the two of them, a time to renew their bond and remember Carole’s mother, who had died of cancer years earlier. What would they have to talk about this year? Carole had almost dreaded finding out.
Now, though, it seemed they might not talk at all. After covering the weather and food, they had drifted into a silence that had stretched out over ten or fifteen minutes. Colonel Hanson didn’t seem to have anything to say, and Carole was almost afraid to try to get him talking. It was a strange, uncomfortable feeling. Would things ever go back to normal between them?
I wish Dad would get over it already, she thought with a flash of irritation, poking at the greens on her plate. Can’t he just accept that people make mistakes, and move on?
Risking a quick glance across the table, she saw that her father’s forehead was creased and his downcast eyes looked weary as he shoveled food into his mouth. Carole felt a flash of surprise. When had he started looking so old and tired?
“Dad,” she said involuntarily, not even knowing what she wanted to say to him.
He glanced up from his plate. “Yes?” he said. “What is it, Carole?”
She gulped. “Uh, nothing. I was just going to tell you about the park we fixed up,” she said, latching on to the first safe topic that came to mind. “Um, the project went really well.”
“That’s good. Tell me about it,” Colonel Hanson said, looking interested.
“Well, it was in pretty bad shape when we got there. I wasn’t sure how they expected us to get it fixed up in less than a week.” Carole shrugged and fiddled with her fork. “But somehow we got it done.”
Colonel Hanson nodded. “That’s what’s known as teamwork,” he said solemnly. “Hometown Hope is good at that. They’re a fine group. I’m glad you’re working with them.”
“I’m glad, too,” Carole said, realizing as she said it that it was true. At first she’d thought of the volunteer group as merely a way to get out of the house and distract herself from her problems. But looking back, she realized that she’d actually started to enjoy the work a little over the past few days. It felt pretty good to help other people, like Zani and her friends. Besides that, some of her fellow volunteers were really nice—Lionel and Nadine, Craig … even Dr. Durbin had started to feel like a new friend, especially now that Carole rarely spoke to her other friends because of her grounding. “Um, I’ve met some interesting people. Like this cute little girl, Zani—she lives in the neighborhood, and the park is her only place to play, I think.” Ben popped into her head again, but Carole suppressed the thought. This wasn’t the time to try to figure out what was going on with him. “And then there’s this really nice couple, Lionel and Nadine. They can’t have kids of their own, but instead of sitting around and being depressed about that, they decided to start doing this volunteer work instead. Pretty cool, huh?”
“Very cool,” Colonel Hanson agreed. He set down his fork and put his hands on the table in front of him, gazing at Carole seriously. “Sort of makes you think about what’s really important, hmm? I mean, it is Thanksgiving …”
That was when it hit her. You know, he’s right, she thought. Lionel and Nadine know what’s important. And I thought I did, too—but maybe I didn’t quite get it until right now.
“Dad,” she said abruptly, dropping her fork with a clatter. “I want to say something.”
“Yes?” Colonel Hanson was still watching her.
His direct gaze was a little unsettling, but Carole couldn’t stop. “It’s about—about how I cheated on that test. I know I’ve said before that I’m sorry, and that’s still true.” She took a deep breath. “But I’m not sure I ever really admitted that it was all my fault. No matter what I thought might happen if I failed—what you would say, or Max—it was still my choice to cheat, and it was a bad one.”
Colonel Hanson looked surprised but pleased. “Well, well,” he said, leaning forward in his chair. “I’m happy to hear you say that. To be honest, I wasn’t quite sure you got that.”
“I didn’t for a while,” Carole admitted, picking up her fork again and stirring the black-eyed peas on her plate. “I guess maybe working on this volunteer project helped me figure it out. Lionel and Nadine are always talking about living positively, which sounds sort of simple and obvious, you know? But they really mean it. They made a specific choice to be positive, and that helps them make every other choice … or something like that. Wait, is this making any sense at all? Because I think I’m starting to confuse myself.…”
When she looked up, her father was smiling at her, his eyes shining in a way she hadn’t seen in a while. “It makes perfect sense,” he assured her. “Carole, you know I could never stop loving you. You do know that, don’t you?” He paused for Carole’s nod before continuing. “But for a while there, when I found out what you’d done—and that you’d kept it from me—I did start liking you a little less than usual.”
Carole bowed her head, shame sweeping over her as she thought back to that one small moment that had led to so many horrible hours. “I know,” she whispered. “I’ve liked me a little less lately, too, I guess.”
“Well, I’m just glad you’ve grown up enough to realize now that every action has consequences,” Colonel Hanson said. “That’s an important thing to learn. And if it took this to teach you, then maybe it will all turn out to have been for the best in the long run.”
Carole grimaced. “I don’t know about that,” she said. “I still wish I hadn’t cheated.”
“You can’t change the past.
” Colonel Hanson picked up his roll and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully before continuing. “But you certainly can learn from it if you give yourself a chance. That’s called getting older and wiser.”
Carole nodded, feeling a little shy. Her father’s words had made her realize that they were talking to each other in a new way—more like two adults having a mature discussion than a parent talking to a child. That made her feel a little sad—why did everything always have to change?—but proud and nervous at the same time. She was seventeen years old now, almost halfway through her junior year of high school. It was scary to think about how fast time was passing. Before she knew it, she would be graduating. And then what?
Chill, she told herself, spearing a few black-eyed peas and popping them into her mouth. You still have plenty of time to worry about the rest of your life. Right now, you have to get through the next month of being grounded.
That thought brought her back to earth. She still hated the idea of being banned from the stable until New Year’s. But she would just have to deal with it somehow. After all, it was her own fault things had turned out this way.
For the rest of the meal, she and her father chatted about various topics—school, Hometown Hope, her father’s latest speech, their relatives. Carole didn’t really care what they talked about. She was just glad they were back on speaking terms.
As they were carrying the dirty dishes to the sink, the phone rang. Colonel Hanson answered. “Hello?” he said. He paused for a second to listen to the response on the other end. “Oh,” he said. “It’s you. Happy Thanksgiving.”
There was another pause, and then Colonel Hanson burst out laughing. Carole raised one eyebrow. “Dad?” she said. “Who is it?”
He waved a hand distractedly to silence her. “Oh yeah?” he said into the phone. “Well, I’ve got one for you: Why did the turkey cross the road?” He paused for a second, grinning and winking at Carole before giving the answer: “Because he was following the chicken!”
Carole groaned. There was no question who was on the other end of the line. Her father had been trading lame riddles and horrendously bad puns with Stevie as long as Carole could remember. But why was Stevie calling now? She knew very well that Carole was grounded and couldn’t talk on the phone.
“So what can I do for you, Stevie?” Colonel Hanson said, switching the phone to his other ear as he reached to turn on the sink and refill his water glass. “You know I can’t let you talk to Carole.” He paused again, for much longer this time, listening. “Oh, I see.” He glanced at Carole.
Carole was bursting with curiosity. What was going on?
“Well,” her father said slowly into the phone. “I wouldn’t normally do this. But I suppose since this is important news … and it is a holiday.… Hold on a sec, okay?” He lowered the receiver and punched a button on the phone before hanging up the receiver. “Stevie? Are you still there?”
“I’m here.” Stevie’s voice poured into the kitchen out of the small speaker at the base of the phone, sounding a bit crackly and distant.
“You’re on speakerphone,” Colonel Hanson said. “Say hi to Carole—she’s right here with me.”
“Hey, girlfriend!” Stevie called cheerfully. “Happy Turkey Day.”
“Same to you,” Carole replied, taking a few steps closer to the phone so that Stevie would be sure to hear her. “How’s it going?” She still couldn’t imagine why her father was bending the no-phone-calls rule. He was leaning back against the counter, calmly drinking his water.
“Great!” Stevie exclaimed. “Guess what? I have big news. Remember I told you how Deborah invited me to go on that interview with her the other day?”
“Sure.” Carole shot a guilty look at her father, wondering if he would be mad if he realized Stevie had come to visit her while she was volunteering. But he didn’t seem to have caught the meaning of Stevie’s remark, so Carole returned her attention to the phone. “How was it? Did you go?”
“Uh-huh. And I ended up cracking the whole case!”
Carole frowned in confusion. She’d been pretty wrapped up in her own problems the other day when Stevie had told her about the interview. “What do you mean?” she asked. “What case? I thought it was about retired show horses.”
“It was. But we found out the lady running the farm was ripping people off left and right—mostly by not taking proper care of their horses. So we busted her!” Stevie sounded very pleased with herself. “And since I was the one who figured out what was going on, sort of, and I also helped out with the writing a little, Deborah arranged it so that I got my name in the byline! Isn’t that cool? It’s going to be in tomorrow’s Reporter!”
“Wow!” Carole was amazed. Once again, Stevie had managed to find adventure and intrigue simply by going about her daily life. “That’s amazing. But what happened to the horses?”
“Don’t worry. They’re going to be fine now that everyone knows what’s going on.” Stevie laughed. “I should’ve known you’d ask about the horses even before you congratulated me on my fabulous new journalism career.”
Carole chuckled. “Congratulations,” she said. “But I don’t know if you can really call one article a career, Stevie.”
“Oh, but that’s the other part,” Stevie put in quickly. “I got such a rush out of this whole thing that I made a decision. As soon as school starts again next week, I’m going to join the school paper! I’m going to be an investigative reporter for real!”
Carole was a little surprised at the news. Stevie could be impulsive, but once she made up her mind to do something, she usually did it. And she had a lot on her plate already—her schoolwork, Belle, Phil, student government.… Sometimes Carole wondered where her friend got the energy to keep up with her own life.
Still, knowing Stevie, she would make it work somehow. “That’s great, Stevie,” Carole said sincerely. “Sounds like fun.”
“Thanks,” Stevie replied. “Hey, is your dad still there?”
“I’m right here,” Colonel Hanson said. “In fact, I was about to spoil the fun by saying it’s time to wind up this call, so—”
“Just a second,” Stevie interrupted. “I just remembered one more. Why are a turkey’s legs so long?”
Colonel Hanson chuckled. “Come on, Lake, you’re getting rusty,” he chided. “So they’ll reach the ground. Of course.”
As her father and Stevie burst out laughing at the stupid joke, Carole rolled her eyes and smiled. It seemed that some things never changed. And Carole, for one, was very glad about that.
THIRTEEN
“Whew! I’m stuffed.” Mr. Atwood leaned back and patted his belly. “I don’t think I can manage that second piece of pie after all, Evelyn.”
“Second?” Evelyn cocked an eyebrow at her husband. “Don’t you mean fourth?”
Peter laughed and pushed back his chair. “I’m full, too,” he announced. “Everything was great, Evelyn. But now I think I’m going to go collapse on the couch and digest. Coming, Dad?”
“Right behind you.” Mr. Atwood climbed to his feet. “What time is it, anyway? I wanted to catch the game between …”
His voice drifted off as he and Peter wandered out of the room. Lisa smiled as she watched them go. It seemed that their common interest in sports, along with the surprisingly pleasant meal, had brought them to some kind of real peace with each other at last.
Turning back to survey the table, she groaned. “Wow. What a mess! No wonder the guys were so quick to make their escape.”
Evelyn laughed. “Come on,” she said, standing. “If the two of us work together, it shouldn’t take long to dump everything into the dishwasher. Then we can collapse and digest, too.”
“I will help,” Greta announced.
Lisa blinked. She’d almost forgotten that her sister-in-law was still in the room. Dieter and Hanni had rushed off a few minutes earlier, taking Lily with them. They’d said they wanted to help her build a castle in the sandbox out back, and Evelyn had agreed, lo
oking only slightly anxious.
Evelyn smiled uncertainly at Greta. “Thanks,” she said. “That would be great. Um, how about if you and Lisa bring the dishes over and stack them on the counter, and I’ll rinse them and put them in the dishwasher.”
Lisa nodded and stood up, grabbing her own plate and several others. She was halfway to the counter when Greta stopped short in front of her.
“Wait a minute,” Greta said. “What are we doing?”
“Um …” Evelyn glanced at Lisa for help. “Cleaning up?”
Greta dropped her stack of dishes on the counter and put her hands on her hips, gazing at Lisa and Evelyn. “Yes,” she said. “But why?”
“Oh, it’s okay,” Evelyn said quickly. “Lisa and I can handle it if you need to go make more calls or—”
“Nein, that’s not what I mean.” Greta smiled. “I mean, why are we doing it, when those lazy men are just sitting on their Hinterbacken, burping in front of the television? And after Evelyn spent all day cooking.” She clenched one fist and held it over her head. “I say we teach them a lesson—and make them clean up!”
Lisa laughed out loud at the determined expression on Greta’s face. “All right!” she whooped, pumping her own fist in the air. “I’m with you. Let’s go drag those lazy bums in here right now!”
Evelyn didn’t seem to know whether to take them seriously or not. “Oh, no, don’t bother them,” she said. “We can handle it.”
“Nonsense!” Greta said firmly. “Come.” Without waiting for an answer, she marched out of the kitchen with Lisa on her heels. Evelyn trailed behind them, still murmuring that she could take care of it.
Peter glanced up as the three of them entered the living room. “Hey, ladies,” he said. “All finished in the kitchen?”
“Yes, we are,” Greta replied. “Now it is your turn.”
Mr. Atwood scratched his head, pretending deep confusion. “Ugh,” he grunted in his best caveman voice. “Clean up dinner? Me say that woman’s work!”
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