A Bigger Table

A BIGGER TABLE

"Did you wash your hands?"

Lucas nodded quickly… too quickly. I didn't trust him.

We were surrounded in a flurry of motion as people moved between the house and the backyard. If he thought I'd let him get away, he had another thing coming.

"Lucas. Michael. Peterson," Lucy's voice dropped an octave, emphasizing each name. His eyes widened as he spotted his mom watching him from inside the house. "Are you telling the truth?"

Caught in a lie, his shoulders slumped. Silently, he rolled up his sleeves. I turned him about and gave him a gentle shove toward the backdoor. His feet scuffed against the patio as he made a melodramatic exit.

Lucy held the door open for him, ushering her son inside. Under one arm, she had placemats, and the other, cloth napkins. She shook her head as she gave me a gentle elbow to the ribs. I wanted to chuckle that Mom had dragged her into the craziness of dinner night. So far, Lucy and Mom have been getting along great.

"It's all in the delivery."

"Lucas Michael?—"

"Bolder. Emphasize each syllable."

"Lucas. Michael. Peterson."

"Better. You just need practice."

"Jason Wesley Cowan." My back straightened. I ran through everything I had done since I arrived. Had I tracked mud? Did I take the last cookie? What the hell had I?—

"Still got it," Mom said as she scurried by, bringing the plates to the table.

She and Lucy laughed as they prepared the place settings. Lucy didn't realize it, but Mom had already adopted her as family. She hadn't admitted it, but Mom would be forever grateful to have a child in the house again. She didn't care how it happened. She needed a grandchild to spoil rotten. At least now, I didn't have to worry about her kidnapping one from the elementary school.

"I've got the silverware," Amanda said. "Jason, take these and go help your mother." She handed me a box of Mom's good silverware. If that didn't show the seriousness of tonight's dinner, nothing would. I couldn't recall a dinner where Mom broke out the set she received as a wedding present all those years ago. They'd have been far too fancy for our TV trays and meatloaf .

The table inside the house would never accommodate this adopted family. Simon and I had wandered Twice-Told Tales and found it hidden amongst the junk. Reclaimed from wood in the mill, it served as the perfect symbol of Firefly. I'd have to thank Abraham for helping us get it into the backyard.

I watched as Lucy counted everybody in the backyard. As she set out the mats. Seven people came and went from the back door. She'd roll out the light blue mats, and Mom followed behind, setting plates on them. Without being asked, Lucy set out an eighth placemat.

Mom covered her mouth to stifle a gasp. Simon must have explained the family tradition. The attention to detail had secured her place at the table. I wouldn't be surprised if Mom referred to her as a daughter after that. It didn't take much to make Mom a happy woman.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"My pleasure." She didn't know how much a single gesture meant to Mom… and to me.

I set the silverware on the table and returned the playful jab to the ribs. "You're her favorite."

"Oh, I know." Taking the silverware from their slots in the box, she shooed me away. "Go make sure Simon isn't lecturing Gerald on how to cook a steak."

The sun had set behind the mountains, casting all of Firefly in a light glow. The chill of the autumn air promised snow before too long. We had transitioned from t-shirts to our favorite sweaters and hoodies. For two months out of the year, we had relief from the mosquitoes before needing shovels.

Adapting to the cold, Simon wore a flannel shirt that hugged his body. I had to resist running my hands all over the softness. Did he understand that those rolled-up sleeves were a tease? I know he undid an extra button to drive me crazy. He had me figured out.

I jumped at the sound of the bug zapper. It could have been snowing, and the black flies would have insisted on joining us for dinner. With the number of lanterns going, it was sure to attract the little devils. It didn't matter how many citronella torches Mom had going; they'd show up with gas masks and sweaters. I almost preferred the mosquitoes.

"You're going to overcook it," Gerald said.

"Are you questioning my grilling?"

"Good sir, I think I am."

"Those are fighting words."

Simon clacked the tongs at Gerald. I never thought I'd hear the day. Before Simon started cooking dinner for me, I assumed meat should be the same color all the way through. After that statement, I received a cooking lesson, and he made me watch a video on the chemistry of cooking meat. I learned to keep my epiphanies to myself.

"If it gets any rarer?—"

"I want to hear it moo," Gerald said. "Fifty years of raising them, I've earned it." Mom had found herself a true farmer. He had spent his youth working in the fields before taking over the family farm. When he decided to enjoy his twilight, he sold it to his employees. Now, he talked about the places he wanted to travel. Mom had never been one to travel, but now even she had a passport, and was ready to become a Jetsetter.

"Jason spent his entire life eating steaks well done."

"Whoa, now. Don't bring me into this fight."

"Shoe leather," Gerald said. He rested a hand on Simon's shoulder while the other raised a glass of bourbon. Simon clanked his glass with Gerald's before taking a sip. These two were becoming fast friends over their love of food and expensive alcohol.

"Don't drink too much, or you'll be sleeping in the spare room."

"Hey! Until I'm gone, that's my room," Lucy chimed in as she darted by us with bottles of wine. "Stay out of my room. Both of you!"

"I never thought I'd say this, but I'm going to miss my boyfriend's ex-wife."

"Think that's bad? How about my lady's son's boyfriend's ex-wife?" Gerald took another drink. "Try explaining that to somebody."

"Lady?" Simon and I said in unison.

"You can say girlfriend," I said. It had taken time, but Gerald had grown on me. The white goatee and his insistence on always wearing a scally cap made it hard not to like him. "Just never say it where I can hear it." I flashed a grin and gave him a wink.

"Susan," he shouted. "What do you say? Want to be my girlfriend? "

Amanda pushed her way out the backdoor while holding a pot filled with corn on the cob. "I never thought I'd call myself the normal one. And here we are. You're all so weird."

"Steaks are done," Gerald shouted.

Simon shot him a dirty look. "Fine. They're done."

The house emptied, with everybody bringing side dishes to the table. After a couple of trips and far too much food, I was surprised there was enough room for the occupants. We each took a seat. I caught Mom glancing at the empty place in honor of my father. Where her eyes normally held a sadness, I could tell she set it aside, focusing on those that filled the table.

"Before we get started, I wanted to say a few words."

Lucas froze, a biscuit already half gone. Lucy put her arm around his shoulders, pulling him close as he continued gnawing away. Simon rested a hand on my back as I leaned my head on his shoulder.

"A few months ago, our weekly dinners were just Jason and me?—"

"Hey," Amanda said.

"A few months ago, our weekly dinners were just Jason, Amanda, and me."

"Much better." Amanda had a bottle of wine already in hand. She'd claim it for herself, and if anybody reached for the bottle, she'd slap their hands.

"Our family was always small. I didn't imagine needing a bigger table. Especially with how much Jason refused to give me grandkids." She smiled at me, but it didn't fool anyone. There was no joke in her statement. "And now, we?—"

"Am I missing Mom's speech?" We all turned to see Jon standing in the backdoor. He had a bottle of wine in each hand. With this much alcohol, we'd all be spending the night at Mom's.

"Sit down," Amanda said.

It had pushed her over the edge. Her eyes shimmered as the tears built up. The smile spread as she fanned her face. I didn't need to ask to know what had her choked up. It was hard to hold back the tears when your heart felt as if it overflowed.

"Have a seat," Mom said, gesturing to Dad's honorary place at the table.

Jon darted into place while everybody watched Mom wipe away the tears. This wasn't a night of sorrow; if anything, it was the exact opposite.

"Some family is by blood." She took Gerald's hand, giving it a squeeze. "Others we choose. This has always been the heart of Firefly. Thank you for filling the seats at my table and being a part of our family."

Mom picked up a glass of water, expecting everybody to follow suit. When nobody moved, she raised an eyebrow. Following our eyes, she turned around. Simon squeezed my hand as we marveled at the spectacle. Behind Mom, filling the backyard, tiny lights faded in and out. Hundreds of the glowing insects fluttered about. It appeared as if the Firefly's namesake gave us their blessings.

"Welcome to Firefly," Simon whispered.