All the Little Lights(55)

Kay chuckled. “What on earth do people do in Oak Creek when they stay at a B and B? I can’t imagine we get many tourists.”

“People staying for work, mostly,” I said, feeling more uncomfortable with each question. I didn’t like lying, but discussing the Juniper meant anything but the truth. I tried to turn it toward something that was less deceitful. “One of our guests stays when she visits her family.”

“That’s awfully strange. Why doesn’t she stay with her family?” John asked.

“They don’t have the room,” I said simply.

“So here in town? Which family?” Leigh asked.

I took a bite and covered my mouth while I chewed, buying time while I thought of an answer. “I’m not . . . I’m not allowed to discuss our guests’ information.”

“Good girl,” John said.

“Okay,” Elliott said. “Let her eat. You have plenty of time to grill her later.”

I shot Elliott an appreciative grin and then forked a small section of cheesy mac casserole onto my plate. I took a bite and hummed.

Elliott gently nudged me. “Good, huh?”

“It’s amazing. I should get the recipe.”

“You cook?” Kay asked.

“Mom,” Elliott warned.

“Fine,” Kay said, tending to the food on her plate.

John leaned back, resting his hand on his round belly. “I’m proud of you, Elliott. You played a damn good game.”

“Thank you,” Elliott said. He didn’t look up from his plate, instead shoveling food into his mouth as fast as he could. After his second plate of food, he finally slowed his pace.

“You should have seen Coach Peckham when you couldn’t find an open receiver and ran the ball yourself for a touchdown. I thought he was going to tear up,” I said.

John and Elliott chuckled.

“I wish your father had been here,” Kay grumbled.

“Kay,” John scolded.

“I gave him a week’s notice,” Kay said, letting her fork clang against her empty plate.

“Mom,” Elliott said, annoyed.

Kay shrugged. “I guess I’m not allowed to point anything out about David.”

“No, Mom, he’s an abusive, selfish jerk, but we don’t have to talk about it,” Elliott said. He glanced at me for half a second and then glared at his mom. “I had to listen to it my whole life. You’re getting a divorce. I don’t live with you anymore. Enough.”

Kay sat quietly for a moment and then stood.

“Mom, I’m sorry,” Elliott said, watching her walk into the next room. A door down the hall slammed.

Elliott closed his eyes. “Damn it,” he hissed. “I’m sorry,” he said, briefly turning his head in my direction.

I felt caught between sympathy for Elliott and relief that other families had problems, too, but it didn’t matter how I felt. Not when Elliott looked so miserable. “Please don’t be sorry.”

Leigh tapped the table in front of his plate. Elliott opened his eyes, and she turned her hand, palm up. Elliott took it, and she squeezed.

“It’s okay,” Leigh said.

Elliott’s jaw twitched. “She’s hurting. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Who’s the adult in this situation?” Leigh said.

Elliott sighed and then nodded. “I should get Catherine home.”

Elliott and I helped Leigh and John clear the table. John rinsed the dirty dishes while Leigh and I loaded the dishwasher. Elliott wiped down the table and swept the kitchen and dining room floors. It was finished in less than ten minutes, and I smiled as John and Leigh hugged and kissed each other.

“I’ve got to answer some emails, honey; then I’ll be up for bed and we can watch that movie you’ve been wanting to get on demand.”

“Really?” Leigh said, excited.

John nodded and kissed her one last time before nodding to me. “Nice to meet you, Catherine. Hope we see you around more often.”

“You will,” Elliott said.

John and Leigh were exactly what marriage should look like. Helping each other, affection, and understanding. They were on the same side, like Elliott and me. I smiled at him as he helped me put on my jacket and again when he held the front door open for me. I stopped on the porch, waiting for him to slide on his letterman jacket before taking my hand.

“Ready?” he asked.

We walked together in the dark toward the Juniper. Dead leaves somersaulted down the street, their brittle edges hissing against the asphalt as they moved together in herds with the chilly wind.

“So? What did you think?” he asked, his tone laced with hesitation.

“Tonight was fun.”

“Which part?”

“Um,” I began, “watching you play. Sitting with Leigh and Kay. Eating dinner with your family. Watching you inhale your mom’s and Leigh’s cooking. Now this.”

He held up our clasped hands. “This is my favorite, and winning, and making that touchdown, and when you held up your hand.”

“You mean this?” I said, making the I love you sign with my fingers.

“Yeah. My mom use to do it before my Pee Wee games. Then Aunt Leigh did. I don’t know, though. With you, it’s different.” He paused, thinking about his next words. “Did you mean it?”