WE GATHER TOGETHER by Edward L. Woodyard

We Gather Together Chapter Eighty-Four

Julia McCulloch closed her laptop on the kitchen table and walked into the den where Sam had set aside wine goblets and drinking glasses, wiping them with a linen towel to get them ready for tomorrow afternoon. A cut-glass punch bowl was on a butler's cabinet at the back of the room.

"I just checked, Sam. Emma's cruise ship landed in Miami this morning. Most flights from there to New York are delayed because of the momentous volume now that the strike is over. I've been trying to call her. I want to tell her she doesn't necessarily need to have Thanksgiving with us this year. That it would put too much stress and worry on her. She can get here when she gets here."

Julia followed Sam into the living room. He examined the hearth and noticed he still had to lay the fire for tomorrow; he removed the fire screen from in front of it.

"Julia, your sister will be here on time, even if she has to get here on her broom."

"Sam, that is unkind. Now apologize."

"To what? The broom?"

"Sam!"

"I'm just having a little fun, Julia."

"You don't have fun at someone else's expense. Practice what you preached to the kids. And no comment about me not being a kid. I'm well aware of it."

"What I am saying, even if it is indelicate, is that Emma will be here if she has to commandeer the cruise ship and sail it into New York harbor singlehanded. Not even piracy on the high seas would stop her from assuming her role as matriarch."

"However, Sam," Julia agreed then contradicted him, voicing a concern. "Not to hear from her in so many days. . ."

"This broom won't do." He indicated a small straw broom from behind a bellows next to the mantel which he used to sweep the hearth of embers, and bark and splinters from logs. "Too small."

"Really, Sam. You might wait until Emma gets here and ask to use her broom."

"Julia. . ." Now it was Julia having fun at Emma's expense, which Sam appreciated but also cautioned her. "At least you're keeping an open mind about your sister." He crumbled a section of newspaper from a pile next to the brass hopper.

"You didn't have to share a room with her growing up. She was a tyrant. She has really mellowed a lot. Trust me."

Sam placed crumbled newspaper under a fireplace grate and checked a Cape Cod lighter for kerosene. "I can't answer why she isn't responding to your texts and phone calls, Julia. Maybe she needs to charge her batteries, although for a woman her age, her batteries are remarkably charged. Maybe even overcharged. She has jet thrusters on that broom of hers."

"Sam. . ."

"I'm done, sweetheart. I just had to get that off my chest. Remember she's the one who told you not to marry me. That I would amount to nothing since I didn't have a college degree."

"Stop holding onto your resentment, Sam. It's unbecoming a gentleman."

"Who are you calling a gentleman, lady?"

She indicated the bouquet of roses on her desk. "You. You, who gave me those roses. And it wasn't even our anniversary."

Sam realized that he needed twigs and tree branches for kindling. He would finish laying the fire later. "Stop worrying. Emma is fine, wherever she is."

"I'm calling the cruise line to see if she even got off the ship in Miami. Something might have happened."

"I'm telling you, the ship is no longer there. She's piloting it up the Gulf Stream and will be here tomorrow. Trust me on this, Julia."

"Feeling better now, Sam?"

"Thank you for asking." He said dryly, placing the screen back in front of the fireplace.

"I'm happy for you," said Julia, equally as dry. "Regardless, I am still calling the cruise line."