The Homecoming (Thunder Point #6)(68)

He chuckled. “You’re talking about me,” he said.

“Seth, I hit you! I knocked you down! You could have filed charges, taken me to jail. I hit you!”

“How many men have you hit, Iris?”

“I think only you. I can’t remember another one. Since I was ten, anyway. But it’s so wrong. I was complaining to Phil that I hadn’t put together a program about abuse and what to do about it and it came to me that I was an awful kid.”

“I don’t know about that. You thought you were a boy for a long time. Listen, kids get into it, strike out. Then they get disciplined and taught that you can’t solve problems by hitting and hopefully through that, along with good examples, they learn that isn’t the answer. That it’s wrong.”

“But I hit you a couple of months ago.”

“Got off a good one, too,” he said, laughing. “I’m not letting you do that again, by the way.”

“I could’ve hurt you.”

“No offense, Iris, but you hit like a girl.”

“We should do better. Of all people, I should know better than to lash out like that.”

He nuzzled her neck. “I admit, I’m completely surprised to find out you’re human. Welcome to the club.”

“Do you have anyone to talk to, Seth? To tell your feelings to? To complain to, to get sympathy from?”

“Huh?” he asked.

She took a breath. “Boys can be so much more alone than girls. Girls dump on their girlfriends, their mothers, sometimes teachers. But it takes a lot for a boy to do that, to admit he’s worried or afraid or anything.”

“It doesn’t seem to be part of our training. We’re trained from an early age to be tough and stoic.”

“When I was in my postgrad program, part of the training was a volunteer assignment in one of the help centers. I worked on a crisis line. We had a guy call in. He said he was leaving the next morning for the trip of a lifetime, a vacation he’d looked forward to all his life. He said he was so excited he couldn’t sleep. It was after midnight. The supervisor was listening in and we were all sure there must be something more to this call. We kept him on the phone for over two hours, asking him key questions, pretty convinced he must be suicidal or something. Who calls a crisis line in the middle of the night to talk about his trip? Well, it turned out he was just a guy taking the trip of a lifetime, something he’d saved for and planned for years. And he called the crisis line because he didn’t have anyone else to talk to. He didn’t have anyone he could tell.”

Seth rose up on an elbow and looked down at her. “Thursday is Thanksgiving. I’m taking part of the day off—first time I’ve had Thanksgiving with my whole family in years. I look forward to it because you’re going to be there. We’re dividing up the schedule on Thursday and Friday—I’ll work till about four, spell the guys for long meal breaks so they can be with their families. But after that, I’m taking the weekend off. I want to take you somewhere. I have someone I want you to meet.”

“Who?” she asked.

“Someone I talk to. Now let it go. Be surprised.”

* * *

Iris couldn’t remember when she’d last been so nervous and excited about Thanksgiving. She’d had many a holiday meal with the Sileskis, Seth being away or working for the larger share of them over the past sixteen years or so. She knew everyone in the family. But this time she was a guest with a new status. This time she was Seth’s significant other.

She worked it out with Gwen what she could contribute and had been assigned sweet potato pie, which turned out to be a challenge. Gwen’s daughter-in-law, Sandy, was bringing the green bean casserole, some kind of mushroom dish that she said everyone hated but Sandy couldn’t live without and a cranberry-and-orange mold filled with nuts and marshmallows. Gwen was taking on the turkey, potatoes and trimmings.

Iris went next door early, hoping she could help with other chores like setting the table, washing up serving dishes that were rarely used, anything. Of course, Seth was not there yet. He was watching the town. But Gwen was in a dither, waddling around the house like Edith Bunker. She wanted everything to be perfect.

“It looks like it is perfect, Gwen. What can I do to help?” Iris asked.

“There’s nothing. I haven’t been this worked up over Thanksgiving since Boomer brought Sandy to meet us! And that was at least fifteen years ago.” She twisted her hands a little bit. “I want it to be perfect.”

“Go put the final touches on your hair,” Iris said. “I’ll guard the food. It’s always perfect.”

Twenty minutes later they descended, almost all at once. Iris heard voices outside and opened the front door. Boomer’s SUV was parked in front and his wife and kids got out, all carrying something for dinner. Nick had pulled up right behind them as if he’d followed them to Thunder Point. Norm was just parking in the drive, still wearing his blue jacket with his name on it as if he’d had to work right up to the last second before sitting down to his meal. And then she saw Seth. He was walking across the yard from her house. Could he be more obvious? His deputy vehicle was parked in her drive and he was coming over in a change of clothes.

Norm shook hands with Boomer, kissed Sandy, ruffled the hair of his grandchildren, shook hands with Nick, shook hands with Seth, and then they all walked to the front door en masse.