Page 123 of Silent Heart

My knock was answered with a “Come in! It’s open!”

I rubbed my boots on the bristled rug, before stepping over the threshold. The voices died, one by one, leaving only the announcer calling sports plays on the soundbar.

“Well look what the cat drug in,” a cousin sneered.

No one joined in the jibe. In fact, they shifted uncomfortably.Curious.I took in their uneasy countenances and subtle side looks toward the kitchen, where the grandmother emerged a moment later.

Mrs. Kellnhofer ambled over, an unsteady smile on her lips. “Kole, what a pleasant surprise. Harley didn’t tell us you changed your mind and were coming to town.”

Curiouser.Harley hadn’t corrected the false name I’d been using. Would I have to marry her as Kole Williams? I pushed that problem to the background and held out the bright bouquet of burnt oranges and deep reds.

“I came up to surprise Harley and spend time with her family.” I looked over the grandmother’s grey head, scanning the gaggle of relatives.

“This sure is nice, isn’t it Rodger?” the grandmother insisted.

“Sure is.” The grandfather tipped his beer back. The whiskers he’d grown for hunting season covered those weatherworn cheeks.

Murmurs ran around the room, the other relatives looking between them. As far as I knew, Harley had only told her grandparents about us.

Mrs. Kellnhofer looped her arm through mine and drew me into the kitchen. “Harley was much happier this morning, even if her cousins got on her nerves. But that’s what happens when there are too many cooks in the kitchen,” she rattled. “Anyhow, this is a good thing that happened to her, and it looks like my prayers were answers! You two are back together!”

“Yes, ma’am, we are.” In the sea of brown and blue eyes in the kitchen, I didn’t see the pair I was searching for. “I do need to speak to Mr. Kellnhofer, however.”

“Rodger, get in here,” the grandmother snapped, while shooing the ladies to continue setting the table.

“What?” the grandfather barked, climbing out of his chair.

“I told you not to start on the New Glarus. You’re going to be cranky before dinner,” the grandmother scolded.

“It’s one beer,” he muttered.

The grandma rolled her eyes. “Kole has something he wants totalkto you about.”

The woman gave her husband a rapid series of subtle looks. The old man sipped his beer, shaking his head at her.

“Where is Harley?” I interrupted the exchange that could only be had between people married for a long time.

“She hasn’t come back from her ride yet,” the obnoxious cousin drawled, sauntering into the kitchen.

When he attempted to sneak a bun, Mrs. Kellnhofer smacked his hand with a wooden spoon.

“If you hadn’t ribbed her mercilessly about her ex-boyfriend, maybe she wouldn’t have needed to get some air,” the grandmother scolded. “All of you were rude.”

“Gran, you already chewed us out,” a female cousin complained.

“We said we’d apologize and be nice,” another added.

Mrs. Kellnhofer shook the ancient cooking tool. “Dang right, you will.”

“I’m going to go look for Harley,” I said, unease shifting through me. I couldn’t account for the niggling feeling. It transcended the family holiday drama.

“Walk with him to the barn, Rodger. You two can chat.” With a wave of her wooden wand, the grandmother shooed us out the front door.

Braced against the cold, the old farmer strode to the barn. The wind had picked up and whipped in our faces. But the weather barely seemed to affect the aged man.

“So you want to be with our Hariet,” Kellnhofer grunted.

At the door of the barn, I stopped short. Nerves, unlike any battle trickled, through me. “I do, sir.”

---