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5
Saturday night at the Hollinger house was raucous, but it always was when the whole gang got together. Bronte and Hunter were the last to arrive, with Zoe opening the door to them.
“Aunt Bean!” she squawked, jumping up and down. Bronte picked up her four-year-old niece and blew raspberries up and down her neck before placing her back down. They walked hand in hand into the living room, Hunter trailing behind, sidestepping children’s shoes and jackets.
It was a minefield. Toys and bodies strewn everywhere.
Zoe dragged Bronte over to a very small princess table with a purple tea set on top. Tommy had his legs shoved underneath.
Bronte laughed at her brother-in-law. “How’s the food?”
“Cookies are a bit stale,” Tommy said, knocking the plastic chocolate chip cookie on the table. He disentangled himself from his seat to kiss Bronte’s cheek, then shook Hunter’s hand. They exchanged a few pleasantries before Zoe yanked her dad back down to his seat. His tea was getting cold.
A few more steps, and they found Bronte’s dad and Matty sculpting figurines with Play-Doh. When her father started to stand, Bronte held out her hand. “Don’t get up, Dad. Hi, Matty.”
Her nephew held up a green lump. “It’s Nuwse Wached.”
“Who?” Hunter asked.
“Nuwse Wached and McMuwphy,” he repeated, picking up a bluish figure.
“Nurse Ratched? McMurphy? Dad,” Bronte chided, “are you teaching him One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest?”
“I might be,” he said, fixing his wire-rimmed glasses more firmly on his nose.
“He’s three!”
“Never too young to hear a good story.”
Bronte scoffed then greeted her brother, who sat with his oldest son, Caleb, watching football highlights on ESPN. She high-fived both of them and then headed for the steps leading upstairs. Luke sat on the bottom step, rocking back and forth, holding some kind of gaming system in his lap.
“Hi, Luke.” She knelt down to try to catch his gaze. “How are you?” He mumbled something under his breath. “How was school this week?” He lifted his eyes ever so slightly in her direction as the rocking continued. “Remember Hunter?”
Hunter waved. “How’s it going?”
Amanda, Bronte’s sister-in-law, made her way down the steps. “Luke, honey, I think it’s time you put that away.” Luke didn’t move, and she stepped around her son, holding out her palm. “All done.”
“All done,” he repeated evenly as he handed over the game.
Amanda let out a breath, her shoulders drooping, before facing Bronte and Hunter. “How are you guys?”
“Good.” Bronte frowned. “How are you?”
She sighed. “It’s been a rough week. Still having a hard time transitioning.”
“First grade is a lot different from kindergarten.” Bronte curled her arm around her sister-in-law. “Anytime you need a break, you know you can call me, right?” Amanda nodded, and Bronte smiled. “Let’s go see if they need help in the kitchen. Come on, Luke.”
“Come on,” Luke repeated. “Come on.” He dragged out the last word as he followed them to the kitchen, where Shelley pulled some plates from a cupboard.
Bronte’s mom called from outside, “Tell everyone dinner’s ready.”
“Dinner’s ready!” Shelley shouted practically in Bronte’s ear.
She grimaced and shoved her sister’s shoulder, but before they could fight, the family herd stampeded out to the backyard, sitting down at two picnic tables pushed together. Bronte greeted her mom with a hug and a kiss then pushed Hunter forward to do the same.
“What is that?” Bronte pointed at something baked in a casserole dish.
“Whole wheat vegetable lasagna. Don’t tell your father,” she whispered as she waved to someone behind Bronte’s back. “There you are! I was about to come get you.”
