Do not bring him here.
Miriam, who barely knew me, said the opposite as if it were obvious.
I looked toward Reid.
He watched me with the expression that had always told me the truth before my memory knew what it meant.
You are wanted.
No condition followed.
“Thank you,” I said.
Miriam squeezed my shoulder.
“You’re welcome at this table whenever you can tolerate the noise.”
Lunch arrived in waves.
Smoked chicken.
Grilled vegetables.
Herbed potatoes.
Bread still warm from the oven.
Pear chutney made from the orchard.
Three salads that appeared to contain every green plant grown in Oregon.
Reid filled my plate because holding it while walking across uneven ground would have been difficult.
He did not ask what I wanted.
He knew what I would eat.
I noticed and loved him for it without feeling managed.
That was progress too.
Elias stood at the head of the table with Miriam beside him.
He lifted a glass.
“We don’t make speeches.”
The family began laughing before he continued.
“You always make speeches,” Celia said.
“I make brief remarks.”
“You once spoke for twenty minutes over a ham.”
“It was an excellent ham.”
Miriam nudged him.
