Page 38 of Finding Home
“Peanut, are you going to say hi?”
Lila lifts her hand tentatively and waves at my mom. It’s interesting to see her like this. With me, even during our first class, she opened up so quickly, she didn’t hide behind Everett, but here in my parents’ place, she’s completely different.
“It’s nice to meet you, Lila dear,” Mom says before moving on and giving her space. “Your dad is just finishing up in the shower. It’s like that man knew we were having company tonight and decided to get as messy as possible at work.” Mom’s words may sound annoyed, but her lips pull into a small smile. She knows how much Dad enjoys his job and has never once faulted him for it.
“I’ll help set the table,” I say, and Mom pats my arm before moving back to the stove and stirring the pot.
I was so anxious as we came into the house that I didn’t stop to smell what Mom was cooking. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, and the smell immediately has me opening them again.
“Did you really?” I ask her, and she looks over her shoulder at me.
“I did.”
I wrap my arms around her shoulders and kiss her cheek before setting the table for my favourite meal, green bean soup. It’s a comfort meal for me, and Mom used to always make it when she knew I’d had a particularly hard day or when I came home from university homesick.
I set the table, showing Everett and Lila where they can sit. As I’m placing the last setting, Dad walks into the kitchen, stopping to kiss my cheek before holding a hand out to Everett.
“You must be the new fire chief,” Dad says.
“I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Maxwell.”
“Randy, please.”
“I wasn’t sure if you’re a scotch or bourbon man but thought I’d bring this over for you,” Everett says, handing the bottle to Dad.
Dad inspects the bottle and says, “This is a good one. Thank you.”
Everett simply nods at him.
Mom brings the pot over to the table, saying, “We like to do dinner family style. You serve yourself from the pot, eat as much as you want, we don’t want no growling bellies from not enough food.”
I smile and shake my head at my mom. She gives the same speech every time we have new people come over. I think it started when we were kids, because there were a couple times Grayson brought Ryder home with him and Mom could tell he was hungry. His mom was a single parent doing everything she could to make ends meet, and if Mom could help out by making sure Ryder got a good home-cooked meal and didn’t leave our house hungry, she’d do it.
As we all settle at the table and I dish myself up some soup, I say, “So, Ryder texted me this morning.” I watch as Everett tenses on theother side of the table. “He said he was sad he missed out on your chicken noodle soup and was asking when you’re making more.”
Mom smiles. “That boy knows he can come over for dinner whenever he wants, he simply has to call and let me know.”
“There was a time I considered branding his name into the back of that chair,” Dad says, pointing at the one Lila’s currently sitting in. “He had his ass in it so often, it felt like it was his.”
I laugh, because branding his name into it is one hundred percent something Dad would do.
“You know he won’t self-invite himself over for dinner. Why don’t I come over and help you make dinner one night and we invite all the guys. I’m sure a few of them are living off of frozen meals and could use a nice home-cooked one.”
Everett is still tense, dishing up soup for Lila and buttering bread for her, his eyes flicking to me occasionally.
“Everett, you wouldn’t mind if we used the kitchen at the firehall to feed your boys, would you?” Mom asks.
“It’s all yours,” he says, and I see questions in his eyes that I know he won’t ask here in front of my parents.
“Why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself,” Mom prompts.
“What would you like to know?”
I knew this wouldn’t be easy. Everett isn’t one to give up personal information easily, but if he thinks I’m persistent, he knows nothing, because I got it from my mom.
“Do you want to start at your childhood and work to the present or go from the present back?” Mom asks, and he looks at her with a look of incredulity, but Mom just smiles at him as she takes another bite of soup.
I swear I hear him mutter, “Two peas in a pod,” but he takes a bite of soup and looks at Mom. “Moved around as a kid, joined the fire department when I turned eighteen, and had Lila shortly after. Spent the last few years in Calgary before deciding to move to Willow Valley. Nothing super interesting,” he says.
