Chapter 10
Mom hosted Thanksgiving at her house.
She told us exactly what to bring and refused every offer to change the menu. Naomi made the rolls with Vanessa the night before. I carried them to Mom’s kitchen in a covered pan, along with the salad I had promised to make.
Vanessa came to drop Naomi off. Mom had invited her to stay for a short visit before dinner if she wanted. I watched them greet each other at the door.
“Hello, Ruth,” Vanessa said.
“Hello, Vanessa. Naomi can show you the table she set.”
Naomi took her mother’s hand and led her inside. They had time together before Vanessa went to spend the afternoon with Dana’s family. I knew Naomi was glad her mother had been welcomed long enough to see what she’d done.
Mom wore the same blue blouse she had worn at the party. Its sleeves were down, with small silver buttons fastened at her wrists. She caught me noticing it.
“I like this blouse,” she said.
“You look good.”
“I know.”
She went to greet the next guests before I could say anything else.
Daniel and his family arrived with a pie. Two women from the library brought a dish of green beans. Naomi put name cards beside the plates. Mom had chosen the head of the table for herself, and I was glad to see her take it.
Before we ate, Naomi stood beside her chair.
“I have something for Grandma.”
She carried over a small wrapped package. Inside was a framed piece of wood from the old porch railing. The carpenter had preserved my grandfather’s initials and polished the surface. Naomi had written the year the porch was built on a little card beneath it.
Mom ran her fingers over the initials.
“Your great-grandfather held this railing in his hands,” she told Naomi.
“And now you can keep it inside,” Naomi said.
Mom pulled her close.
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
We ate while the afternoon light moved across the table. Mom told the story of how she once burned a holiday pie and served ice cream for dessert. Daniel’s youngest son asked whether we could do that again. Mom said he could have ice cream after the pie she had made properly.
When dinner was over, I gathered the plates. Naomi took the serving bowls. Daniel and his children came to help.
Mom carried her own plate to the kitchen.
“I can take that,” I said.
“I know you can. I’ve finished eating, and I’d like to help for five minutes.”
I smiled and stepped aside.
We worked together. Then I told Mom to take her tea to the porch while I finished the pans. She agreed because the choice was hers.
Later, I found her outside beneath a blanket. Naomi sat beside her, reading the school essay she had written about the house. Mom had kept it in a folder with the old family photographs.
When Naomi finished, she looked up at her grandmother.
“Do you still feel safe here?”
Mom glanced back through the open doorway. She could see our coats on their hooks, the cleared table, and people she had invited moving comfortably through her home.
“Yes,” she said. “I do.”
Naomi leaned against her shoulder.
I took the chair on Mom’s other side. The peach tree stood bare in the fading light, ready for another spring. Mom reached for my hand, and Naomi took her other one.
“I’m glad you came home that night,” Mom told me.
“I wish I’d come sooner.”
“You came. Then you listened when I told you what I wanted.”
May you like
I held her hand while the voices of our family carried from the kitchen. Naomi began planning which books she and Mom would read over winter break. Mom told her she could choose the first one.
For a while, the three of us stayed on the porch together. When the air grew cold, Mom stood, folded her blanket, and led us back inside her house.
