Wildest Dreams (Thunder Point #9)(84)

There was a cheer from the living room followed by a lot of male laughter. This was not a sound alien to other Thanksgivings in the Sileski family, but usually there would be Boomer’s wife, Sandy, in the kitchen to help Gwen put out the food.

Iris walked right through the living room to the baby’s room, and even though she was roughly the size of an RV, she went completely unnoticed. She stood at the end of the crib, looking around at her baby’s room—it was so precious. She rubbed her tummy; it was getting hard and solid because there was no more room in there. She really didn’t know where she was going to put another three weeks or more. She wanted to hold this baby so dearly.

This was supposed to be the best Thanksgiving of her life—married to the love of her life for eleven months, nine months pregnant, at peace with the family, everyone anxiously awaiting the birth. Instead, what did she have? A day of backbreaking labor that no one really noticed followed by a feast they would all take for granted. And fat ankles.

She went back to the kitchen, again strolling through the living room unnoticed, and put all the food on the table. She began carving the turkey and even the noise from the electric knife only made the men louder. She called them to the table and they all came, slowly, one by one, the TV roaring in the background.

There was laughter and chatter as they loaded up their plates. They talked about the game, the weather, the garage, the sheriff’s department, their schedules, and paused every so often when there was a loud report from the TV, from the game. Nick got up from the table, fork still in his hand, and ran to the living room. “Touchdown!” he yelled. “That’s my team. Seth owes me two bucks so far but I plan to leave here a rich man!”

Then, remarkably, Nick came back to the dining room and picked up his plate, taking it to the living room, balancing it on his knee to watch the game and report. Within sixty seconds Norm was following his son, leaving Seth alone at the table with Iris.

He looked at her pleadingly. She jerked her head in the direction of the living room and before she could even reconsider Seth packed up his dinner and followed his dad and brother.

No one mentioned the glaring absence of Gwen. Iris had only talked to her a couple of times during the week, passing chitchat, because frankly she was furious with them both—Gwen and Norm! She wasn’t thrilled with Boomer, Nick or Seth, either.

She sat there picking at her dinner. Seth came in, kissed her on the cheek and asked her if she was okay. “Fine,” she said. So he took seconds of dressing, potatoes and gravy.

Right behind him came Nick, reloading. “Outstanding, Iris! Thank you!” She answered that it was a pleasure.

Iris sat there for a while and then she began packing up a hot picnic. If any of the men in the living room bothered to look into the kitchen they would assume she was cleaning up. She had a large pan into which she scooped a generous turkey dinner, enough for two. She poured gravy into a handy glass measuring bowl with a cover. She covered the whole thing with foil, carried the gravy, stuck napkins under her arm and slipped out into the cold night.

Assholes.

She knocked on Gwen’s door with her foot. She was actually delighted to see that Gwen was sniffling. “Have you eaten?” Iris asked.

“I’m not very hungry, but please, come in! I might have a little glass of wine. I know you can’t, but I think I will.” And then she blew her nose.

“Maybe you can stuff down a little because I haven’t really had a full dinner yet. I brought enough for both of us. The men are more focused on the ball game and I missed having you at my table.”

“But no one else did.”

“Get the plates out,” Iris said. And she said it sternly.

When Gwen had set the table, Iris served their dinner. The gravy needed a little nuking but everything else had held up just fine. When they were seated before their plates and Gwen had her wine, she dipped her fork into her dinner.

Iris took a few bites before she spoke. “I want you to stop feeling sorry for yourself right now because this was your decision. You sent Norm to our house. And don’t expect me to thank you for that, either. If I can’t feel sorry for myself, seventeen months pregnant and having slaved over a big holiday meal, then you don’t get a pass, either. Besides, not only did no one mention your absence, they didn’t notice that I left. You know why? Because they’re idiots who can’t think past their stomachs, that’s why, and they take us for granted. And maybe you’re right, maybe we should just divorce the hell out of all of them. But you signed on for this and so did I and if we’re a little lonely right now it’s because we allowed this to happen and look what it got us. I shouldn’t have let Norm move in—I’m too pregnant and touchy for him right now—but instead of saying so, I asked Seth to do it. If Seth had done it, I wouldn’t be here and they wouldn’t all be sitting in the living room in front of the television with their plates on their laps. I hate them.”

Gwen just stared at her while Iris shoveled a few more bites into her mouth. “Iris, you’re crying,” Gwen finally said.

Iris wiped at her cheeks. “Small wonder,” she muttered.

“Honey, you’re exhausted,” Gwen said. “You’re not going back there. When we’re done with this beautiful dinner you’re going to put your feet up in the living room while I clean up and make you a nice cup of tea. You’re not going back to your house until the TV is off and the kitchen is spotless—I’ll see to that.”