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I stomped the snow off my boots and shook the fresh flakes off my hat at the door of the house. Chores were finished for now, but I’d have to go back outside after dinner to check water tanks. I shivered when I pulled my coat off and hung it up, then something else caught my attention. The house smelled like my mom’s chuck stew.
They say the sense of smell is the last thing to linger in your memory—far longer than a person’s face or voice. I’d know my mom’s stew recipe anywhere. None of the rest of us knew how to make it. It was such a family legend that no one even attempted to copy it. That stew was just kind of sacred. So, who…?
I rounded the corner of the kitchen and found out. There was my dad, his arms around Meryl Justice as she tried to cook, and he was kissing her on the cheek.
“Stop it, you rascal!” she laughed, swatting at him with a wooden spoon. “You’re going to get burned.”
“That’s what happens when you get close to the flame,” he joked as he snuck one more kiss. “But if you’re going to be that way about it, I suppose I’ll bide my time.”
I stepped back, feeling a little nauseous. There was the answer to my question: I wasn’t ready to see my dad with someone else. They looked so happy and flirty, but… but he was mydad. There are just some things a guy doesn’t want to see, and his dad getting sweet with his lady friend in the kitchen is one of them. I pivoted on my heel and tried to sneak away.
“Dusty!” Meryl greeted me. “Good evening. I hope you’re hungry.”
I chewed my lip, then turned around. “Hi, Meryl. What are you making in here?” As if I didn’t know.
She dipped out a bit of the stew and brought it over for me to taste. “I hope it’s good. Blake says this is a family favorite.”
I rolled the rich broth and tender vegetables around my tongue, and I could feel my entire being just melt. “Tastes just like Mom’s,” I said in a husky voice.
“Not quite,” Dad replied as he stole the spoon to take another dip.
I savored the remnants of flavor in my mouth, thought for a second, and had to disagree. “No. That’s it, exactly. I’d know those seasonings.”
“What I mean is this wasn’t your mom’s recipe to begin with. Marci got it from Meryl, oh… when was that? Ninety-five or so?”
Meryl frowned and rolled her eyes up. “I thought I brought it over when Luke was born, and you made her get the recipe. Or was it Evan?”
My mouth dropped. I felt like some holy relic had just been tossed out like a fifty-cent golfing trophy. “Mom didn’t come up with this? I always thought it was handed down from Grandma, and Mom tweaked it.”
“You’re thinking of the chicken pot pies. Mm-mm.” Dad patted his belly. “Those were the best.”
“Oh, yes,” Meryl agreed. “She used to bring those to the Aid Society meetings, and we all begged until she told us how to make them. I don’t think anyone ever quite duplicated her crust, though.”
“But, the stew…”
“Wonderful to have the house smelling like that again, isn’t it?” Dad asked. “Meryl offered to cook us all a Valentine’s dinner tonight, and I asked for that special. She even baked some home-made biscuits to mop it up with.”
I swallowed and something inside me… let go. And I found a smile for Meryl Justice. “It is wonderful. Amazing.”
“You look awfully somber this evening.”
I’d been daydreaming in the den after dinner and my last round of chores. My belly was full of warm comfort, all the animals were snug and safe, and the den was lit mostly by the glass on the wood stove. It probably wasn’t even accurate to say I was daydreaming. I was half asleep. My mind had just slipped into peaceful meanderings, mostly flashes of summertime and Jess’s quiet smile.
Meryl’s voice called me back to reality, and I shifted the old throw pillow off my lap to straighten. “Somber? Why do you say that?”
“Oh, nothing. You just looked like someone beat your dog.” She winked. “Or maybe you’re just low on batteries.” She eased herself to the opposite side of the couch, and for the first time, I realized the den was empty. Evan had been there earlier, scanning his phone for market prices. Luke would be in the shower about now.
“Where’s Dad?”
“Well, he said it was his turn to wash dishes. I tried to help, but he chased me out. I think he drafted Evan to help him.”
“I thought you guys were going out for pie or something after dinner. What happened to that?”
“Aw.” She waved. “Takes too much energy. I never put much stock into made-up holidays and all that fuss anyway. I’m happy with a bit of roll and jam.”
I chuckled. “I can respect that.”
She pressed her lips together and nodded. Her eyes got a faraway look for a minute, and I thought she’d just come in to doze, like me. Then she said something that sliced right to my core.
