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Show 2-3 off on my cousins. They hid in the hall, watching my father as he stood in the kitchen drinking a glass of ice tea and kidding my aunt and Cordelia. Those two had no problem talking, immersed as they were in steam arid water; they chatted on, peeling, slicing, scrubbing and ladling. Mother sat on the porch, talking quietly with Uncle Joe and my grandparents. John sat in the living room, reading the Star and ostentatiously smoking a cigarette. He had taken up smoking since Father had left and made much of all its affects. I sat on the steps of the porch, listening to all the talk, feeling an emptiness in this day I had so longed for. I stirred when Father came out and sat by Mother in the wicker love-seat. "The house looks fine, James." He looked at the porch roof which Grandfather had painted last week. "I'm sure that is mostly your doing." "Yes, but we all pitched in to help Katherine. We didn't want you coming home to a ruin." "Thank you. Even the yard looks good." "It's early yet, though," Grandfather replied, looking out over the still-green lawn and the fragrant bushes. They all looked and seemed grateful for the chance to look somewhere other than at each other. Even Grandmother dropped her knitting to inspect the yard. "Why . . .?" began Mother. "Where . . .?" interrupted Uncle Joe. And all seemed gratefully eager when Aunt Felicia called us to dinner. We ate ham and watermelon pickles and corn pudding and Father's favorite vegetable, lima beans. Everyone talked about family and local politics and church finances. I noticed that neither of my parents ate much. Mother drank a lot of tea and Father just pushed his food around on the plate. |