Scott McCulloch stretched his limbs in his motel bed, his hands reaching for its sides but then covering his face while he yawned. He turned to see Maya sitting up in her bed, still dressed in her Cal sweatshirt, and typing on her laptop.
"Good morning," he said, wiping his eyes.
"Good morning. I know it's Thanksgiving," she said, "but I'm just making some notes."
"Is it okay if you do that in the car?"
"Of course." She typed a few more words and stopped. "What's up?"
He consulted his grandfather's wristwatch. "I figure if we leave here by seven, we should make it."
"Do you mind my asking, 'what's the rush?' New York isn't going anywhere. Neither's Hoboken."
"But we are. My mother always serves Thanksgiving dinner promptly at four o'clock. Sharp. And we have about nine hours of driving left. So, we should just make it." He referred to his wristwatch again. "It's a quarter of seven."
Maya's eyes descended to an automatic digital clock at the corner of her laptop screen. "It's a quarter of eight. I think your watch forgot about the time change."
Scott jumped out of bed. "We can't be late. We have to be there in time to sing the hymn."
YOU ARE READING
WE GATHER TOGETHER by Edward L. Woodyard
General FictionSometimes you have to go far away to realize just how close you really are. A straightforward, honest and emotional journey of the heart, We Gather Together is a perceptive and joyous story about a small-town suburban family that wants to come toge...
