Page 5 of Campfires & Canines
Hovering near the garden, I wait for him to return with Hazel. Her shy smile flashes through my mind. She’s not what I expected for Heath’s niece.
I spot them through the trees. Jeans hug her thighs and a sweatshirt drapes over her curvy frame. She chats with Heath, her blonde ponytail bobbing behind her. I want to wrap it around my hand to see if it's as silky as it looks - nope. Stop beingcreepy.
Her mouth opens as she notices how many people are milling about waiting for dinner. Heath didn't tell her anything. This isn’t how I would have handled the situation.
"Wow, it's like a whole little town." Her silvery voice floats across the clearing. Hopefully, she isn't overwhelmed, but based on how wide her brown eyes are, this is a bit too much.
"I guess you could say that. I've got a team of ten, and they all have their families. There's about forty residents right now." Heath says.
She's glancing around as if she could count all of us right this moment. Two dozen people have already gathered, waiting for dinner to start.
Heath continues to explain, "We try to eat together as often as we can. It keeps the community close."
He ushers her into Crickett's diner and I follow a few steps behind them onto the black and white checkered linoleum. Hawthorne follows me with his daughters, and others file in behind us, everyone obeying the unspoken rules of respect.
Tonight’s dinner is spread across the shiny red bar top – crispy chicken, country potatoes, corn, greens.
“This is so cute,” Hazel praises, “and it smells fantastic!”
It really does. Fried chicken is one of my favorite nights. Everything Crickett makes is fantastic.
Speaking of the chef, she pops out from the kitchen with a huge platter of dinner rolls. Her apron is spotted with grease stains and her dark hair is piled up on top of her head.
Crickett makes our dinners five or six nights a week, plus lunch items most days. I’ve seen her order around her kitchen help like a general, but with her family, she’s patient and tenderhearted.
The moment she looks up and spots Hazel, her entire face lights up. The plate of fluffy rolls lands with a ceramic clink on the counter.
"Hi, you must be Hazel!" She hurries around the bar. "I've been dying to meet you!"
Hazel pastes a polite smile on her face, but I suspect it’s more of a reflex than anything. Her eyes dart from Crickett to Heath, silently asking who this woman is.
Heath chuckles. “Crickett is married to my cousin, Hawthorne. So she’s your cousin too, I suppose.”
"I had no idea we had more family,” she says as Crickett wraps her in a hug.
“You never mentioned us?” Crickett scolds as she steps back, swatting at Heath. She’s one of the few who can treat him so casually. “How would you feel if we were keeping family members secret from you?”
I grab a plate, trying to smother my smirk.
Hazel’s eyes are on the food. She must be hungry. "Did you make all of this? It looks delicious."
Crickett preens. "Oh, I had plenty of help. Eat up! Once those boys get here, there won't be much left."
Her eyes crinkle as her smile widens. She takes one more look at Hazel before heading to the kitchen. She pauses at the doorway and leans back, blowing a kiss to her partner, Hawthorne, who is shepherding their daughter forward while balancing a baby on hiship. He winks at her. They’ve been married for seven or eight years at this point, and they’re still wild about each other.
Following Heath’s example, Hazel loads up a plate and grabs silverware and a drink.
Heath leads her to a picnic table in the center of the clearing. I hesitate, but once Heath catches my eye and tilts his head in silent approval, I trail after them and slide onto the bench at the end.
As more people settle with their food, the sounds of eating and soft conversation fill the clearing.
I watch Hazel tear into the chicken and my worry over her hunger abates. She hums a cute little noise of appreciation that I find far more appealing than I should. I force myself to look away and not grin into my drumstick like an idiot.
“Hi! I’m Marigold,” an upbeat voice says. The strawberry blonde sits across from me, leaving room for her grandmother to sit beside Heath.
“Hi,” Hazel responds politely.
“Marigold is our school teacher, and this is our nurse, Sable,” Heath fills in.
