WE GATHER TOGETHER by Edward L. Woodyard

We Gather Together Chapter Twenty-Three

Julia McCulloch was rolling out pie crust on a flour-dusted wooden board on her kitchen island. A dozen peeled apples were on the counter next to the sink in a thick porcelain mixing bowl. She couldn't help but think about all the meals that she had prepared for her family over the years in that kitchen – and all the pies. 

In a laundry room off the back hallway, Sam was polishing silver candlesticks and serving dishes; Julia disliked the acrid smell of the polish and made him do this chore away from food. Sam didn't mind; with all that Julia had to do to get everything ready, polishing the silver was the least he could do. 

Julia heard her cell phone's ring tone and wiped her hands on her apron as she retrieved it from her desk in the living room. She smiled when she recognized the caller. "Hi dear. How did the meeting go?"

Drew explained everything that had transpired and about how much work he had to do in so little time. "I'm wondering if Dad wants to come out of retirement."

Julia looked down the back hallway at Sam who finished wiping dried polish from a silver gravy boat. "Can I talk with you later, Drew?"

"I'll stop by after work, Mom," he said and got off his phone.

As Julia returned to the kitchen, Sam came into the room carrying a tray of freshly polished silver serving dishes, wine coasters, plates, platters and the gravy boat. He saw Julia put her cell phone on the kitchen table.

"Who called?"

"Drew. He was wondering about Thanksgiving."

"You can tell him that the silver's done. Done for Christmas as well. Next."

"You're the only man I know who likes to polish silver."

"It's only because it's the butler's day off." Julia smiled at him. Sam continued, "It's not that I like doing it. It's that it's got to be done and it's not something that you particularly like doing. I'm just trying to be helpful."

They both heard the wind pick up outside the house. Sam saw leaves swirl past the front window and onto the porch. He turned to Julia, "That's not particularly helpful. Guess I need to do some more raking."

"Wait on that for later, Sam. Time for your afternoon nap."

"Yes, doctor." Sam grabbed a book entitled Collected Essays by Percival Perkins from an end table by an overstuffed club chair; it was in a corner of the room by the fieldstone fireplace.

"How's that book Emma gave you last Christmas?" asked Julia as she took a lemon from a bowl of citrus on the kitchen table, rolled it on the counter and cut it in half.

"Works better than a sedative to get me to sleep. Have you heard from her?"

"Not yet. But you know she'll be here."

"Even if she has to fly the plane herself. Or is it her broomstick?"

"Samuel McCulloch, no more comments," Julia said staring at Sam as he retrieved the book and headed for the stairs. She finished his thought for him, "For now."

"You beat me to it."

"Have a good nap. I'll wake you when Drew gets here."

"That's very exciting news about Worldwide."

"How did you find out?"

"I knew about it on Friday. I got an e-mail from someone high up in Worldwide."

"George Dombrowski I bet."

"You bet right. He was wondering if we could handle all the new demands. I told him I had every confidence in Drew and the company."

"And you didn't tell me? You had the whole weekend to say something."

"I wanted Drew to tell you."

Julia took the lemon halves and squeezed the juice onto the peeled apples.

"Any other secrets you're keeping from me?"

"Not just now. If you want to keep a secret, you should even keep it secret from yourself."

Sam went upstairs to lie down while Julia returned to rolling out her pie crusts. She had four pies to make today. It would be a busy afternoon.