23. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

T he kitchen at the Finches home was buzzing with activity. Outside, it was particularly cold for late November, a steady breeze keeping the air full of swirling leaves.

The Finches, Huberts, Edith, Lucy, Forrest, and Miriam were all there preparing for the Thanksgiving feast. Everyone was chopping or dicing or sautéing or stirring. Everyone except for Dr. Hubert, who was happily propped on one of the island's stools sampling bites of this and that whenever Mrs. Hubert turned her back, but still finding his hand regularly batted away when she inevitably caught him. Even Clark was weaving between their feet, cleaning any bits of food that were dropped.

Billy and Luke came zooming through the kitchen, one with a white-paper collar and the other with paper feathers on a headband, all leftovers from a preschool craft from earlier that week. Luke had a decorative corn cob in one hand he was using to jab at Billy, and Billy was swinging a (thankfully) hollow gourd back and forth like a club.

Porter looked to Forrest who was dicing onions for three different people's recipes, occasionally wiping tears on the cuff of his sleeve. He said, "Children are amazing. They really get the spirit of Thanksgiving."

Forrest finished the last slice of his knife, and stepped away from the potent pile of onions, his hands in the air. "Okay, ladies. The onions are chopped. I have made my contribution to this meal."

Porter put a hand on Forrest's shoulder and declared, "And now, Forrest and I will be off to make sure the boys don't weaponize the decorative pumpkins. After all, cooking is women's work."

He received several middle fingers and a hot-roll to the head as he bowed out of the room, dragging Forrest with him.

As they turned the corner into the living room, sure enough, a small pumpkin was hurtling through the air. Forrest caught it within inches of it colliding into a lamp.

"Alright, boys," Porter said in his best impression of a drill sergeant. "Outside. Now."

"Can we take the walnuts?" Billy asked.

"For ammu-tion?" Luke added.

"Where in the world did you learn about ammunition?" Porter said, his face contorted in shock. "And no on the walnuts. Even though I'm sort of impressed with your ingenuity."

Forrest and Porter grabbed their coats and followed the boys out. They each sat down in a rocking chair, watching the boys as they tried to catch leaves falling from trees.

As they each found a rhythm rocking, Porter said, "So exactly how many surfaces in our office have you now had sex on?"

Forrest laughed. "A gentleman doesn't tell. But don't worry, your room was safe."

"Why do you think I ran back in to lock it?"

They rocked some more in comfortable silence, then Forrest said, "I'm going to marry her, you know."

"Yes, you are. And I'm pretty sure nothing would have made your father happier than seeing you marry Lucy."

"That is one thing we definitely had in common."

***

Lucy stood at the island, carefully weaving pie-crust into a lattice top over a cinnamony apple filling. Across from her, Dr. Hubert intently watched her work.

"That is a work of art, Lucy."

She smiled. Clearly, Dr. Hubert did not get Martha Stewart's magazine. Lucy's crust work was decidedly amateurish. However, she would take the compliment.

"Thank you, sir."

"When will you start the new job?"

"In January. I'm going to finish out the year with President Burke, train a replacement. And then, I’ll officially be an editor."

"That is just spectacular," Dr. Hubert said as he picked a piece of sugar-crusted apple out of Lucy's pie and popped it into his mouth.

"Dr. Hubert!" Mrs. Hubert was bent over digging in a cabinet for a salad bowl.

Lucy looked to Dr. Hubert, trying to mime with her confused expression and hands the question of how Mrs. Hubert knew he was snacking. He raised his hands and shook his head, miming back his own befuddlement.

Still bent over and with her head deep in the cabinet, Mrs. Hubert said, "You'll understand when you and Forrest have been together forty years, dear."

Lucy seriously doubted she would ever be as astute as Mrs. Hubert, but before she could say so, Edith walked into the room and declared that Anna was asleep for her afternoon nap.

Charlotte, who was sprinkling the fried onions onto the top of the green bean casserole said, "How did you do it so quickly? She's been fighting me like crazy on her afternoon naps."

"I recited the first ten minutes of The Vagina Monologues to her. Having it memorized has never come in so handy."

Edith either did not see or chose to ignore Charlotte's mystified reaction. Regardless, she took the stool next to Dr. Hubert, her cooking tasks done for the day.

Dr. Hubert said, "We were just discussing Lucy's new job."

Edith said, "Yes, and the best part is we're going to clean out the tiny room where we've always stored textbooks so that Lucy can work with us a few days a week."

"Yes," Lucy said. "I think I'd go crazy working by myself at home every day. I'll just bring in my laptop, and do my work in Hart. The joys of remote working." Lucy crimped the edges of her pie after finishing the last row on her lattice.

"Ah, yes," Dr. Hubert said, "I will have to make sure I schedule my doctor's appointments for the days you're in. I've missed two since you went over to President Burke's."

Lucy shook her head and smiled, "I'll give Mrs. Hubert my schedule so that she can coordinate things."

"Thank you, dear," Mrs. Hubert yelled from the butler's pantry.

"And I probably should schedule all of my appointments with students for your days in the office, as well."

Lucy leaned her head back, her eyes shut. She sighed deeply and long-sufferingly. But really, she could pass out chocolates while she edited. She was an amazing multi-tasker. She looked back down at her pie, fixing a part of the crust that was a little misshapen. "Okay, Edith. That’ll be fine. But you’re going to have to hire another secretary. You do realize that, right?"

Edith waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, I don't know. I was thinking we'd just hire a few of our students to cover all of the secretary duties, give them a work-study position."

Just then, Forrest's voice came from the doorway. "I’ve heard it said English majors need secretarial experience."

***

Forrest was heading back into the house after deciding the wind-chill was a little too biting when he ran into Miriam coming out of the downstairs bathroom. For the first time in a long time, she was not wearing her tab collar. Instead, she had on an oversized sweater in a chestnut color and jeans. Forrest assumed that this meant she didn’t see the Finches merely as church members, but as friends.

"Oh, hey. I've been meaning to talk to you."

Forrest looked around. There was no one else in the room, so she was definitely talking to him. Thinking back to the very few rom-coms he had watched over the years, Forrest said, "Is this when you do one of those best-friend-of-your-girlfriend speeches? You know, where you threaten to kill me or something if Lucy ever gets hurt. Because, for the record, I'm not ever going to let that happen to Lucy."

Miriam just smiled and shook her head, her shortly-cropped curls bouncing. "No, I wasn't going to threaten to kill you. I'm not a mob boss, believe it or not. And I do trust you. I trust that the time you did hurt Lucy was just a dick-head-blip on an otherwise stellar record, caused by a bout of grief and confusion."

"Dick-head-blip? Yeah, that's pretty accurate, actually."

"And, just for the record, a member of the clergy would never threaten to kill someone. It's not really our thing."

"So, out of curiosity, what would you threaten to do to your best-friend's boyfriend if he weren't such a stand-up guy like I am."

Miriam thought for a moment. "Oh, I don't know. Damn your soul to eternal fires? Rain curses upon your house? Send locusts? Something like that."

"You have a really cool job, you know that?"

"Yes, I do."

They were about to head back into the kitchen when Forrest remembered why they’d started this conversation. "Wait a second. What were you going to tell me?"

Miriam shook her head as if clearing some cobwebs. "Oh yeah. I got distracted by the fun of brainstorming curses. I was just going to say that I'm really happy for you and Lucy, and just know I'm always here for you. That's how I do friendship. Now that you are Lucy's guy, well, you're in my circle now."

"Thank you, Miriam." They started walking back to the kitchen.

"Also, how are you doing processing your father's passing?"

The question was so blunt, it shocked Forrest for a moment. Most people other than Lucy tip-toed around his grief.

"I wish he could see me and Lucy together. It would’ve brought him a lot of joy."

"Well, I didn't know him personally. But I'd be willing to bet that he saw this coming. You two were obvious to everyone but yourselves."

As they walked into the kitchen, Miriam headed to a bowl and started working while Forrest leaned on the doorway, taking a moment to look at Lucy. She was standing over a pie, fiddling with the crust, while she talked with Dr. Hubert and Edith. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the cooking. She was wearing a wine-red sweater, jeans, and high-heeled boots that brought her to his eye-level. Her hair was worn down, allowing her waves to escape her signature bun for a day. It made him want to bury his face into the crook of her neck.

She was saying something that Forrest didn't catch, and then she pushed up her glasses as she looked at Edith for her response. He heard Edith say something about their students doing secretarial work for the department. Grinning, he said, "I've heard it said English majors need secretarial experience."

***

Lucy laughed, thinking back to her and Miriam gossiping before class and flippantly planning futures they could never have really understood. "It did work out well for me."

Forrest smiled at her, his expression making her wonder what he was thinking. It looked suspiciously like the expression she saw on his face right before he put his hands around her waist and started inching up her sweater. In the vast history of their relationship, it was a relatively new expression.

"Time to put the food on the table," Charlotte called out, immediately creating a hustle of people walking back and forth from the kitchen to the dining table with dishes and utensils and drinks.

Lucy put the pie in the oven. It would be ready just as people finished eating. As she was closing the door, Forrest's hand grabbed one of the belt loops on her jeans, and he walked her into the butler's pantry. He shut the door behind them, and immediately started kissing her hungrily. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed against him.

He was the one to break the kiss, his hands cupping her face as he pulled back to look at her. "I'm so glad I'm here with you."

"Not as glad as Porter is. I think he was really stressed about pulling off more than one meal to accommodate us in shifts."

She raised onto her toes, reengaging the kiss, still amazed that she was stealing secret kisses with Forrest Graham. This time, she pulled away. "This is so much better than the last time I hid in this pantry."

Forrest quirked his eyebrow.

"Long story for another day."

His hands started roaming, squeezing and probing and making Lucy forget that there was a house full of people on the other side of the door and mounds of food they were to eat and, well, Thanksgiving.

Suddenly, there was a banging on the door, causing Lucy to jump, knocking over a bear-shaped canister of animal crackers.

Porter's voice came through loud and clear. "Time to stop making out. The Thanksgiving feast is ready." A chorus of voices called out affirmations and jeers and laughter.

Lucy groaned.

Forrest smiled, lifting her chin to look into her eyes.

"You really are Eden."

He took her hand, opened the door, and they headed to the table.