“Hey, do you mind getting up for a minute?” One of Jane’s brothers stood over them. “I lost my keys and think they might be in the couch.”
“Sure.” Ben stood then pulled Tara up and to the side. A Nerf ball whizzed by her face.
“Sorry,” some kid yelled as he ducked behind a chair.
“You doing all right? Need some air or anything?” Ben asked.
She took another deep breath then exhaled slowly, looking around the room. Being shot at aside, so far nothing bad had happened, and these were just kids, right? Smallish people, like Maddie. Nothing to freak out about.
“I think I’ll be okay,” she said after a minute, “but thanks.” She smiled at Ben as he squeezed her hand. How great it was to have someone looking out for her. It was a feeling she could get used to.
“Game’s on in the other room,” Peter announced as he and Jane returned.
“I’m there.” Ben started to go after him then stopped at a nearby chair so Maddie and her cousin could piggyback.
Where did they come from? Tara wondered as she waved at Allison, who seemed to have grown exponentially in the months since Tara had seen her.
“How are you doing?” Jane asked. “Kids driving you crazy yet?”
“Not too much,” Tara said, proud that she could say that. “So far the worst has been almost getting hit by a Nerf ball.” She raised her eyebrows at the owner of the gun that had shot that ball, who was angling his way around the love seat.
Jane beckoned with her hand. “Come in the kitchen. No balls or weapons allowed in there.” She turned back the way she’d come, and Tara followed, half-expecting an attack as she retreated.
The kitchen was a flurry of activity, with Jane’s mom issuing orders to the mostly female population. The one exception was Ben, just taking his place at the stove to stir gravy.
Seeing her perplexed look, he shrugged. “I always made the gravy at my house. So I asked Sister Warner if she’d mind.”
Jane handed two baskets of rolls to Tara and took another two off the counter. “Mom never turns down help. You’ll have a standing invitation here the rest of your life.”
“That’s what I was hoping.” Ben sniffed the air appreciatively. “Any kitchen that smells like this is one I want to be welcome in.”
Tara helped Jane and her sisters finish putting the food on the tables—butter and rolls, salad dressings and boats of gravy, trays of olives and nuts. Two platters of turkey, three bowls of mashed potatoes, four different kinds of salads. And I thought setting up the caterer’s delivery took time. Tara’s mouth watered, anticipating what was likely going to be the best home-cooked meal she’d ever enjoyed. The kitchen held a counter full of pies. A ham still warming in the oven was almost forgotten. Tara sent a sideways glance at Ben and wondered if he’d be eating any. There were certainly enough other foods to choose from.
Things got crazier after that. Jane’s dad called everyone to dinner. Bodies crammed into the space as everyone found their places at the tables—three of them, end to end. Tara guessed that together they must run close to thirty feet.
“My mom doesn’t believe in a separate children’s table,” Jane explained. “We’ve always eaten together. I just hope they made this room big enough.”
“I don’t know,” Tara said. “If you and Peter have as many kids as your brothers and sisters have . . .”
“Not possible,” Peter said. “Remember?”
Tara covered her mouth, horrified she could have forgotten something as significant as the tragedy that accompanied the twins’ birth last summer.
“I’m sorry.” Tara touched Jane’s arm. “I didn’t mean—”
“That’s all right.” Jane’s smile was reassuring as she looked from Tara down into her baby’s face. “There’s always adoption. Peter and I had talked about it before I got pregnant, and I think it’s something we’ll talk about again at some point.”
“Just not. Right. Now.” Peter placed his hands on Jane’s shoulders.
“Not now,” she agreed, laughing as she tilted her head back to look up at him.
“Adoption’s great,” Ben said, joining the conversation. “The only way to go. You guys could still have fifteen kids, easy.”
“Easy?” Jane said. “I don’t think so.”
Her mother had arranged the seating so that everyone sat in families. Tara was relieved to find that she and Ben were beside Jane, Peter, and Maddie. Jane’s father said the blessing, which was immediately followed by at least two dozen hands reaching for the food.
“Remember,” Brother Warner boomed, “no one leaves this table until we’re done with the thanking. If that happens, then next year we’ll have to return to the way things were years ago, before a couple of naughty little girls—” He looked from Jane to her sister, Caroline, then back to Jane again— “convinced us that eating first was prudent.”
“Here’s to naughty girls.” Caroline’s husband raised his glass in a toast. Caroline elbowed him, but Tara didn’t miss the flirtatious look that went along with it.
“I think we’re missing a story here,” Ben said.
“I know we are.” Tara took the potatoes from Jane. “But don’t worry. I’ll get it out of her later.”
Even with the number of people at the tables, dinner was mostly uneventful. The volume rose throughout the meal as people talked over each other, and three different times children spilled their drinks. But not on me, Tara thought happily. Laughter was plentiful, teasing between Jane and her siblings even more abundant, and everyone around her, with the exception of a cranky toddler and one of Peter and Jane’s twins, seemed happy.
Thinking about her last Thanksgiving—spent alone in her apartment in Los Angeles—compared to this one—surrounded by people who accepted and cared about her—Tara felt an overwhelming rush of gratitude for the experiences of the past year, along with an all-too-familiar lump forming in her throat.
Attentive as always, Ben noticed. “You okay?” He placed his arm around the back of her chair and leaned in close.
Tara nodded. “Just thinking. Does this being weepy ever get better? I mean, am I going to be this emotional the rest of my life now?”
His expression grew tender. “I hope so. It means you’re feeling the Spirit, and that’s—”
“A good thing,” Jane concurred, reaching over to give Tara’s hand a squeeze. “I love that you’re here with us, Tara. You are what I’m thankful for this year.”
“Me?” Tara said. “Oh, please. Peter came home safely. You’ve got two beautiful new babies—”
“Who wouldn’t be here without you. Neither would I,” Jane reminded her.
Tara waved away her praise. “Someone else would have stayed with you.”
“Maybe,” Jane said. “Maybe not. But the point is, the Lord sent you to help me. And you listened.”
“I listened,” Tara repeated, thinking back all those months ago to that lonely February night, when she’d curled up on her sofa and had a dream about Seattle—and coming home. Had that been the Lord directing her life? The answer came quietly to her heart.
He was listening, even when I didn’t know He was there, didn’t know any better. Heavenly Father was watching out for me.
Fifty
Dinner was over, and thanks had been expressed. Too much thanks from some members of the family, in Tara’s opinion. Jane had a sister who wouldn’t shut up. The dishes were mostly done and dessert consumed when Jane’s father announced it was time for Great Dalmuti.
“It’s one of the Warners’ traditions,” Peter explained before Tara or Ben could ask. The three sat on the couch in the front room, Peter and Ben each holding one of the twins. “This family is big on traditions. Football at eleven o’clock sharp every Thanksgiving. Boys against girls. Losing team has dishes.” He lifted the baby to his shoulder. “Dalmuti is part of every holiday, and some regular Sunday dinners, depending on everyone’s mood. Just be glad you don’t have to participate in the annual
family photo shoot next week.”
“I heard that.” Jane’s mom smacked him on the head with a roll of paper towels as she walked by.
“What is Dalmuti?” Tara asked, wondering if the missionaries had forgotten to tell her about some important Mormon custom.
“A card game,” Peter said, “that Jane’s family takes to the extreme.”
As if to prove his point, Brother Warner carried a giant plastic tote into the room. Before he’d had a chance to take off the lid, the teenagers swarmed him.
“I call Dalmuti first,” one yelled.
“Nice try,” another said. “You know we don’t pick that way.”
“And doesn’t asking mean you’re automatically the peon?”
“Each card represents a different hierarchy,” Peter said. “The Great Dalmuti is like the king, then there are merchants, right down to the lowest peon, who has to collect the cards at the end of each round.” He rose from the couch, careful to support Ella’s head. “Jane’s mom and sister made hats to go with the cards. It’s kind of crazy but also a lot of fun.”
Tara thought that was an apt description of the entire evening. Or maybe “really crazy but kinda fun” would have been a better fit. At any rate, she was surprised and pleased at how much she had enjoyed herself. She was grateful for the game, strange though it might be, because it promised the night would last a little longer.
Thinking about tomorrow was depressing. Friday was Ben’s last day here, and then . . . She didn’t know. Could they continue a relationship long distance? Where did they go from here? She had to believe that, since she’d first seen him again seven weeks ago, his feelings about getting serious with anyone had changed. But she wasn’t positive. Ben remained a man of few words as far as feelings were concerned, though by his actions alone, she knew he cared about her.
How much? was what she couldn’t figure out how to answer.
Her own emotions were easy enough to decipher. She’d been head-over-heels in love with him long before she’d even realized it. Even more than that, she respected him. He was honest, hardworking, kind, generous. And that only scratched the surface of his noble character. Which worried her. If LDS singles ran The Bachelor, Ben could be the star. He could have any woman he wanted.
So why would he want me?
It was a question she didn’t care to dwell on.
Aside from her relationship with Ben, life was entering a new rhythm far better than the previous. Unfortunately, she feared it still forecast a lot of lonely days.
She hoped that at least Christmas would be good this year. Since picking Ben up at the airport, she’d been toying with the idea of asking him to return at the end of next month. She planned to pitch the idea as a way for her to make up for how awful she’d been the previous December. With a little luck, it might just work.
Tara watched as Ben held Jane’s baby like a pro. He had the makings of an excellent dad. It really was too bad things hadn’t worked out for him and McKenzie.
Who am I kidding? I’m thrilled it didn’t work out for them.
Tara sighed as she felt a little more of her perfect cleanliness wash away. Bummer that even our thoughts count against us. She stood and followed the guys into the other room.
“Look who’s here.” Jane came in a minute later with two people Tara hadn’t met. More family, no doubt, though there were already too many here for Tara to begin to keep track. The newcomers didn’t quite seem to fit in with the rest of the family. They looked younger than most of Jane’s siblings and didn’t appear to have any kids with them. They made a striking couple, though completely different in looks, with her blonde hair and fair complexion beside his darker hair and looks. When they greeted the family, Tara thought she detected a slight accent.
“Hi, Jay. Sarah.” Peter set Ella in her car seat on the table and came over to shake their hands. “You made it.”
“We did,” Sarah said. “Actually, we flew in last night. We spent the day going through Jay’s storage unit.”
“We’re shipping what we want to keep and getting rid of the rest,” Jay explained.
“Which means you’re not returning to Seattle anytime soon,” Jane guessed.
“Probably not,” Jay said. “And this trip is short. We needed to work on the unit today because Sarah has to be back for a concert Saturday night.”
Jane turned toward Tara. “Tara, Ben, these are our good friends Sarah and Jay. They live in Boston but occasionally remember those of us out West.”
“Occasionally, as in most major holidays for the past couple of years.” Jay stuck his hand out to shake Ben’s.
“Jay was my law intern the summer before he graduated,” Peter explained. “We keep hoping we’ll get him here permanently.”
“We may get back here someday,” Jay said. “But right now Sarah’s having some fantastic opportunities with her music, and we’ve got to pursue those dreams first.”
Tara greeted each of them, deciding as she did that it wouldn’t be too awful a breach of etiquette to mix business with social tonight. “If you’ve got things in your storage unit you’d like to sell or just want to get rid of, I can help you.”
“That would be great,” Sarah said enthusiastically. “We hardly have any time to go through it, but we’d like to clear it out so this is our last month of rent.”
“We’re buying a house,” Jay announced, grinning.
“Kill my hopes,” Peter said, shaking his head. “But that’s great. Quickest way to a woman’s heart—” he took Jane’s hand— “is to buy her a house.”
“With a yard,” Jane added.
“You may have to come out and work on ours,” Jay said. “It’s an older home, but the front room is big enough for a grand piano.”
“When we can afford it,” Sarah said, though her eyes sparkled with excitement at the possibility.
“Let me help you earn some cash for that piano,” Tara said. “I’m pretty good at selling things to local stores and online. Remind me to give you a business card before you leave.”
“I will, and thanks,” Sarah said then followed Jay around the room to say hello to the rest of Jane’s family.
Tara noticed that Jane’s sister Caroline was the only one who didn’t give a warm welcome to Jay. She thought that was a little odd, but then, from what she knew of Caroline, she’d always been her own, outspoken, opinionated person.
Kind of like me. The thought was comforting. Maybe the gospel really is for those of us who are less than perfect.
Jane’s dad stood at the head of the table and explained the rules of the game. Then he turned to Tara and Ben. “Since this is your first time as our guests, you get the honor of sitting at the head of the table and being the Great and Lesser Dalmutis first.”
“But not for long,” one of Caroline’s sons called out.
“That’s what you think.” Ben stood then held his hand out for Tara. “Come, my queen. Leave the peasants behind.” They walked to the end of the room, and Ben pulled a chair out for her. “Ladies first. You get the greatest honor.”
“Why, thank you.” Tara sat and stared haughtily at her royal subjects. “Isn’t there supposed to be a back massage or something with this position?”
“Hey, you’re off the bench, aren’t you?” Peter yelled. He and Jane were at the far end of the table, seated on one of the hard, backless benches.
Ben took the chair beside Tara, and Jane’s dad reached into the plastic tub. “For you.” He placed a Burger King crown on Ben’s head. Tara could tell where fake jewels and sequins had once adorned it. She laughed.
“Our kingdom must be poor.”
“We’d better increase the taxes,” Ben said.
“And for you, milady.” Brother Warner removed an equally appalling cone-shaped purple princess hat. Tara tried to place it on her head, but it fell off—twice.
“First day on the job, and your head is already too big,” Ben teased.
Tara glared at him. “We’ll see who
stays a Dalmuti longer.”
“We need to find something else for you to wear.” Ben stood and pulled her up. He removed his crown and set it on the person nearest him. “Start without us. We’ll jump in next round.” He towed Tara toward the front room. “I know just the thing. It’ll be much better. It’s you.”
“Back in a minute,” she called over her shoulder.
“I doubt it,” Peter said.
“Take your time,” Jane called, sounding amused.
Ben led her to the now-deserted front room and pulled a book-sized cardboard box from the top of the piano. “I saw this at a thrift store, and I thought of you.”
“You know, that hat in the other room wasn’t so bad.” Tara imagined the sort of atrocity Ben likely held in his hands. He’d only been in Seattle since Tuesday, and already he’d had time to find a thrift store? “If it’s going on my head, I hope you at least disinfected it.” She sighed loudly, remembering the Minnie Mouse fleece he’d crowned her with last December. “Let’s get this over with.”
“What? No tantrum, no tears? No ‘Forty-seven bucks and an hour at Sears is abuse’ line?’”
Tara folded her arms and shook her head. “We’re not talking about buying underwear. It’s a game.”
“You’ve changed, Tara.” Ben lifted a hand, as if to reach out to her and pull her close but hesitated at the last second. “And this isn’t a game anymore. Peter and Jane just helped arrange that convenient setup.” He opened the box and took out a sparkling silver tiara.
She gasped and reached for it. Ben handed it to her. It was heavier than she’d expected, and examining it closely, she noticed a slight tarnish on some of the inner curves. Sterling silver?
“If you’re finding this kind of stuff at thrift stores, we need to go shopping together. This diamond looks real.”
“Could be,” Ben said casually. “I bought the tiara at an antique store the week after I flew home from Seattle.”
“You made an incredible find.” Tara stared at him. “It’s stunning, Ben. Absolutely beautiful.”
My Lucky Stars Page 29