and a grin.
“Be gentle, like when we pet Mutt,” Michael Junior recited, as the four of them made their way over to me. Michael and Brian were each holding their hands behind their backs, as if for self-control.
Mike and Cassie probably hadn’t expected to have the comparison to the dog be made public, but I laughed and they joined in on it, leaving the kids confounded. Cassie introduced me to her family.
“You’re in Grandma’s swing,” Brian said by way of observation.
“Yes, I am. Would you boys like to sit on it with me?”
There was a moment’s hesitation, but the casts were too intriguing. They hopped up next to me.
“Careful,” Mike said.
“Where’s Uncle Frank?” Michael asked.
“He’s in having a nice long talk with your grandmother. That’s why I asked you to sit with me on the swing.”
“Where are your fingers?” Brian asked me, studying the sling.
“You can see most of them, can’t you?”
“Yeah. And I can see your toes.” This amused the two of them to no end.
“Where’s your cat?” Michael asked, looking around.
“He’s at home. Our friend is taking care of him.”
“Where do you live?” Brian asked.
“She lives in a place called Sin,” Michael said.
“Michael!” Mike said.
“That’s what Grandma said. She said Uncle Frank and his friend Irene are living in Sin.”
“Grandma must have got it wrong, Michael,” I said easily. “We live in Las Piernas.”
“Oh. Where the beach is.”
“Right.”
Brian said, “When do we get turkey?”
“Soon,” Cassie answered, but looked nervously toward the door.
Sitting was too much for the boys and soon they were running around the front yard, playing tag, laughing and squealing whenever one tagged the other.
Cassie and Mike sat on the swing with me. Like Cassie, Mike was easy to talk to. He was telling me about his work with the Highway Patrol, when the door opened and Frank and his mom appeared, arm in arm. Before any adult could get a word in, the boys were rushing toward them, shouting, “Uncle Frank! Uncle Frank!”
“Hello, you little devils,” he said and scooped them up, giving me a wink.
“You winked at her!” they both shouted.
“Yes. You caught me.”
“Wrestle us!” Brian cried.
“Give Uncle Frank a break, boys,” Mike said, but it was too late.
Frank was out on the lawn, the boys rolling and crawling all over him, amid more giggles and squeals. Mike grinned. “Well, Irene, I wish my kids would warm up to him a little.” He stepped off the porch and joined the melee.
“Why don’t you join us on the swing, Mom?” Cassie said.
Mrs. Harriman hesitated, avoiding eye contact with me. “I’ve got a dinner to get ready, Cassie.” And she turned and went inside.
“We’ll help!” Cassie shouted, undaunted. “Come on, Irene,” she said.
Frank’s mom looked between us as we arrived in her kitchen. “What can I do to help, Mrs. Harriman?”
“Please call me Bea.” She paused then added, “I guess you’ve already been a great help to me.”
I didn’t hear any sarcasm in that, so I tried a smile. “I’m not very useful in this condition, but I’m improving in using my left hand. I’d feel better if there was something I could do.”
“Why not let her stir the gravy, Mom?”
“Good idea, Cassie.”
And so it was that the three of us got a chance to know one another better. Cassie was a masterful ambassador between us. Somehow she managed to get Bea and me to relax, to help with dinner, and get the boys cleaned up again when it was time to eat. I figured that as a working mother, she had learned to juggle this many activities long ago.
Frank sat next to me and helped to load up my plate with turkey and all the trimmings. When it came time to give thanks, there was plenty to give.
Brian was surprised to watch Frank cut up my food for me. “Look, Dad! Like you did for me when I was little.”
