Lucy smiled. “Do I detect a touch of jealous mother-in-law?” she asked.
“Touche,” said Sue, smoothing her neat pageboy and staring out the window at the passing fields and trees. “I’m just not used to the idea of her being engaged, much less married.”
“It must be hard,” acknowledged Lucy. “I can’t believe how excited I am that Toby’s coming home. I really miss him. It’s like there’s this big, gaping hole at the dinner table.” She laughed. “Actually, I guess he took the bottomless pit with him. For the first time ever, I have leftovers.”
Sue chuckled and turned to check on the kids. “You know,” she said as she settled back in her seat, “you have to expect some changes in Toby. You never get back exactly the same kid you sent away.”
“Oh, I know,” said Lucy. “But that’ll be nice: seeing how he’s grown and changed.”
“Sure,” said Sue, giving her hand a little pat. “Okay, kids, we’re almost there. Now, who can sing with me? ‘Over the river and through the woods,’ ” she began.
“‘To grandmother’s house we go!’” screamed the kids.
* * *
They were still singing merrily when they arrived at the turkey farm. When Andy Brown had taken over his father’s failing dairy farm, a lot of people in Tinker’s Cove had thought he was crazy. He had proved them wrong, however, and had turned the farm into a local attraction. In spring the place was filled with lambs and bunnies and chicks and he held Easter egg hunts. In summer he sold fresh fruit and produce. In September it was apples and cider, and by October the fields were full of pumpkins and a dilapidated old barn had been transformed into a House of Horrors. Now, in November, some of those Easter chicks had matured into a flock of Thanksgiving turkeys.
“Hi, kids, I’m Farmer Brown,” said Andy, greeting them at the bus. “Welcome to the farm.” As usual, he was dressed in overalls and sported a bright red bandanna.
“Good morning, Farmer Brown,” chorused the kids, prompted by Sue.
They all climbed out of the van and gathered in the barnyard, which separated the farmhouse from the barn. A parking lot was off to one side and beyond that stood a cluster of equipment sheds.
“Are you here to see the turkeys?” Andy asked.
“Yeah!” said Harry.
“And what’s the noise a turkey makes?” Andy had shown lots of school groups around the farm. He knew the routine.
The kids all began making gobbling sounds, the boys vying to see who could be loudest. Tiffani was the only one who remained quiet, standing silently beside Lucy.
“I guess you all know that turkeys are called gobblers,” said Andy. “Come on. Follow me!”
Lucy took Tiffani’s hand and they followed the rest of the group across the barnyard and around the barn. There, in a huge pen dotted with A-frame shelters, were several hundred white turkeys. It was an awesome sight.
“Wow!” said Sue. “Turkeys are bigger than I thought.”
“And noisier,” said Lucy, listening to the din. She was aware that Tiffani had slipped behind her, only taking occasional peeks at the turkeys.
“And smellier—phew!” said Harry, making them all laugh.
Studying the turkeys, Lucy decided they were remarkably ugly animals. The males were enormous and sported long, fleshy combs that dangled across their beaks, hanging down one side. Wattles, in lurid shades of blue and pink, dangled from their necks and a large tuft of course black hair sprouted from each male’s chest. Their scaly, reptilian feet had sharp spurs in addition to their three-clawed toes.
The females, although smaller than the males, were still substantial birds. They didn’t have combs on the tops of their heads, but they didn’t have feathers either. Their bald heads were covered with lumpy, knobby skin.
Oddest of all, thought Lucy, studying the birds with the fascination truly horrible sights seem to require, were their eyes. They had an odd reflective quality, and when they blinked it reminded her of a shutter on a camera lens.
“How do we know turkeys are birds?” asked Sue, who was holding up a large white feather.
Emily knew the answer. “They have feathers.”
“That’s right,” said Sue. “What else makes them different from us? Do they have mouths with lips and teeth?”
The kids studied the birds, trying to decide.
“They have beaks,” said Justin.
“Farmer Brown, what do they eat?” asked Sue.
“Mostly corn and grain. See over there?” He pointed to the opposite side of the pen, where a worker was emptying a sack of grain into a metal hopper. “He’s feeding the turkeys.”
“Isn’t that Curt Nolan?” asked Lucy, recognizing him from yesterday’s hearing.
“Yup. Curt helps out this time of year.”
“Farmer Brown,” asked Sue, intent on continuing her lesson, “how big are these turkeys?”
“These turkeys are Nicholas Mammoths. The females dress out to between fifteen and eighteen pounds, the males at twenty to twenty-five pounds.”
“What do they wear when they get dressed?” asked Hillary, giggling.
“They don’t wear clothes.” Farmer Brown scratched his head. “Oh, I get it. Dressed means something different. It means after they’re killed and ready to cook.”
“Killed?” Emily’s face was white. The kids had suddenly grown very quiet. Behind her, Lucy could feel Tiffani’s little body stiffen.
Lucy and Sue exchanged glances. Suddenly the trip didn’t seem like such a good idea.
“A lot of food comes from animals,” said Sue, using her teacher tone of voice. “Cows give milk and chickens give eggs, but to get meat we have to kill the animals. That’s the way it is.”
“All of them?” Hillary was horrified.
“All except one,” said Farmer Brown. “TomTom Turkey. Want to see him?”
“Sure,” said Sue, stooping down and giving Hillary a hug. “Let’s go see TomTom Turkey.”
“Old TomTom won the blue ribbon at the county fair last summer. He’s the biggest turkey you’re likely to see.”
Andy pulled open the door and they all followed him into the large, airy barn. Lucy inhaled the scent eagerly—a rich mixture that recalled the cows that had once lived there combined with the fresh, sweet smell of hay. She loved the smell of
