Bennett The Brave

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

If cooking is the canvas upon which my mother paints, then Christmas Dinner is her defining work. She starts planning it in August, and by the time Halloween rolls around, all the staples are garnered into the pantry in preparation. Those who have never enjoyed Christmas goose, as lovingly prepared by my Mom, have truly missed something. The massive ovens in the kitchen of the lodge, perfectly suited for the large birds, ran all day long, releasing tantalizing wisps of deliciousness every time Mom cracked a door to peek inside. On the burners bubbled pots of boiling potatoes, beans, turnips. Plump piles of dough for fluffy dinner rolls proofed beneath towels over steel bowls; the air in the kitchen was moist and yeasty smelling, fogging the cold window on the back door.

The guests and their children worked joyfully throughout the day to transform the great room into a gaily festooned wonderland. Garlands of pine boughs and ribbons draped along the rails of the second and third floors, and one down the stairs. Tinsel and lights sparkled in the branches of the huge tree that sat opposite the fireplace; ornaments of glass and tin swung on wire hooks to catch the light. Dad had rigged a record player to speakers hung on either side of the room and it was normally my job to load the changer up with five albums at a time. With Mom's collection of Christmas music, there was little chance of running through it all in one day. Brian Coopersmith gladly assisted with the task of selecting each album and undertook his work with great deliberation.

By the time Neal and I came back to the lodge, dinner preparations reached their zenith as bowls of food started to make their way to the tables. With everybody in their seats, Pastor Dave stood and raised his hand. Silence fell, broken only by the crackling of the fire, as we collectively bowed our heads.

"Heavenly Father," Pastor Dave said earnestly, "heed the prayers of your flock, as we give thanks and gather to partake of your bounty. Bless this feast before us, that it Maye nourish us, body and mind, just as your boundless and matchless grace nourishes our souls. In our celebration of the birth of your only son, Jesus Christ, we take a moment to remember those who cannot be with us tonight, and pray that you take them under your protective care. Father God, we especially pray for Garrett and his parents tonight, that healing be swift and complete for him and all those who hurt with him. We pray all these things in Jesus' name, Amen."

"Amen" came as a heartfelt chorus from around each table, soon followed by a rising tide of clinking and clattering as food quickly transferred from platters to plates.

"Hey Coop!" Neal called over to Brian, pointing to the idle record player, "Slackin' off, are ya?" Brian jumped back from the table, tossed his napkin into his seat, and quickly pulled the stack of records on the turntable back up the spindle and pulled the play-lever. He didn't seem to care now that the records had already played, determined to be back at the table by the time the candied yams got passed around.

Being the oldest of the kids, myself, Neal and Lizzie-B presided over the "children's table", making sure all the younger ones put their napkins in their laps, minded their manners, and didn't hog all the yams. For some reason, the turnips didn't seem to be going all that well, which mystified me because my Mom's turnips are creamy and delicious. The yams were always a big hit, with their gooey, generous dollops of caramelized marshmallow. The more exotic fare, like butternut squash with a puddle of butter and brown sugar in the middle, pearl onions in a cream sauce, and my beloved turnips, just didn't seem as popular with the little kids.

I could tell that Eddie Parnell wasn't terribly happy with his position of not-quite-old-enough to be one of the "in-charge" kids like me, Lizzie and Neal, and not quite young enough to require supervision. When a little boy next to him was having trouble cutting his goose into manageable bites, I suggested Eddie help him, which he eagerly did. I watched Eddie casting shy glances at Lizzie-B throughout the meal. At times, he was outright staring at her chest; she was wearing a ribbed sweater which nicely accentuated her breasts. I always figured Lizzie an attractive girl, but seeing Eddie lust after her so, made me chuckle to myself some.