Chapter Thirty-Eight
Audrey
“A re you ready for this?” I ask as we approach my parents’ front door. Parker glances back at the street where his mother and sisters are parking their car. He looks back at me and smiles. “Absolutely.”
We wait for his family to join us before I open the door, and the five of us step into the foyer, where the warmth of the holidays envelops us. The polished heart pine floors gleam under the glow of the low-hanging chandelier, and the twinkling lights of the fifteen-foot Christmas tree reflect off the mahogany banister of the sweeping staircase that leads to the second floor. We hang our coats and bags on the hall tree alongside the others, and I call out, “Hello, we’re here!”
My mother emerges from the kitchen, wearing a jewel green silk blouse and black slacks, covered by a fall fruit-printed apron. She hurries over to greet us. “Welcome!” Parker steps forward and kisses her on the cheek. “Happy Thanksgiving, Mamie! You look stunning,” he says. Then he wraps an arm around his mother’s waist and gently guides her forward. “You remember my mom, Valerie, and my sisters, Rainey and Presley.” My mom nods. “Of course I do. Val, girls, please make yourselves at home.”
Valerie smiles. “Thank you for having us. This is for you. Audrey says it’s your favorite,” she says as she hands my mother a box containing her homemade sweet potato pie. Mom lifts the lid, and her eyes light up. “Oh, it is! Thank you so much!”
Rainey and Presley approach Mom and hand her a bottle of wine each. “Your house is so beautiful, and I love your tree,” Presley says.
“Thank you! Rand gives me a hard time for putting up the decorations so early. He thinks we should wait until after Thanksgiving, but it makes me happy. My philosophy is that the turkey tastes better, and I feel even more grateful when I’m happy, so why not?” Mom quips, and both girls giggle, expressing their agreement. “Now, dinner is almost ready, and my brother is serving apple cider cocktails in the parlor through that door on the left. They’re delicious! You guys should go have him make you one.”
The girls follow Valerie down the hallway, and Mom turns back to us. “Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask.
She hands the pie and wine to Parker, then wraps her arm around my elbow and leads me forward. The rich scents of baked ham, buttery cornbread, and slow-simmered gravy drift from the kitchen, mingling with the faint sweetness of pecan pie. “Your Aunt Libby has the candied yams browning in the oven, and I was just about to mash the potatoes. If you don’t mind starting the cranberry sauce, that would be great. You did get my text about picking up cinnamon sticks, didn’t you?” I hold up the brown bag in my hand. “Yes, ma’am.” She glances over her shoulder. “Parker, Rand is outside manning the smoker and fryer. Can you check to see if he needs any help, dear?” As we pass the entry to the parlor, I see Uncle Andrew at the wet bar, adding a sugar cube to a crystal flute for Valerie. Meanwhile, Rainey and Presley are warming themselves by the crackling fire in the marble hearth, along with a couple of my cousins.
I stand at the stove, grating orange zest into a pot filled with berries and sugar, while Mom flutters around the kitchen, as happy as can be. She lives for days like today when her big house is filled to the brim with voices and laughter. It’s Sunday dinner on a grand scale.
Once everything is in place and the dining room table is set with crisp linens, my grandmother’s heirloom silverware, and my mom’s wedding china, I help carry the last desserts to the sideboard. Then, I go in search of Dad and Parker. I find them seated on the veranda, each holding a beer.
“What are you two doing? We’re all in there waiting for the turkeys,” I say as I take a seat beside my father. He wraps his arm around me and pulls me closer, placing a kiss on the top of my head. “The turkeys are resting, and Parker and I are just enjoying a few more moments of peace,” he says, tilting his chin toward the television mounted above the outdoor fireplace, where a snowy football game is playing. “Well, time’s up. Mom sent me to find you.”
He reaches for the remote, clicks the screen off, and then stands up. “Good. I’m hungry.” We all rise and walk over to where two beautiful birds are waiting. He picks one up and hands it to Parker. “Take this one and help Mamie transfer it to a platter. You can carve it, and I’ll carve the other one.”
Parker takes the roasting pan from his hand and carefully walks it inside. Once he is out of sight, I turn to my father. “Thank you, Dad.”
“For what?” he asks.
“For making Parker feel comfortable. I know I sprung this on you, and it can’t be easy given how you feel about him, but I really appreciate your effort,” I say.
He raises a brow. “How I feel about him?”
“Yes, I know you hate him. I did, too, for a long time, or maybe I never really did. I think I just needed someone to blame, but…”
He interrupts me before I can finish. “But you love him.”
I bring my eyes to his. “I do—we do, Parker and I—love each other. I’m pretty sure we always have. We just got lost.”
He nods. “I never hated Parker, sweetheart. I was just angry and a little lost myself because I knew you were and I’m your daddy. I’m supposed to protect you but didn’t know how to find you and lead you back home.” He reaches over and swipes a tear that has escaped and is running down my cheek. “If he could do that for you, and you could forgive him, then I can do the same.”
“I think we all deserve a fresh start,” I whisper.
He smiles. “I believe we do.”
Dad gathers the other pan, and we walk inside. He and Parker stand side by side at the kitchen island and carve the turkeys for our first holiday as a family. A complete family. A beautiful, broken, yet healing family.