Crystal Lies - Melody Carlson [102]
But books and lectures don’t always speak to a mother’s heart. And perhaps some of the best lessons in life are, after all, learned the hard way. Fortunately, I was able to distract myself during the next couple of days as I forced my tiny kitchen to produce the Thanksgiving dishes that I’d so easily prepared in the past. I felt like a Pilgrim commando as I shoved the large turkey into the small oven, hoping that there’d still be room for rolls. And, feeling festive, I even arranged some Indian corn and brightly colored gourds among the candles I’d set out on the coffee table.
So why was I shattered and shocked when my turkey and dressing and mashed potatoes and pumpkin pies were all done, and the table was all set, but nobody showed? I mean, really, why was I surprised? The warm aromas of favorite dishes had comforted me temporarily, but my fuzzy feelings vanished when I realized it was four o’clock, and once again I had been duped by my son.
Oh, it was entirely possible that Jacob had had every intention of coming for dinner and bringing his music buddies. But he’d probably simply forgotten. Most likely a result of his addiction and substance abuse. I knew that addicts had difficulty keeping appointments. I just hoped he was okay and not strung out or lying unconscious on the freezing street somewhere. This was another one of those times I wished I’d gotten that boy a dog-tag ID to wear around his neck. That way if he wound up in the emergency room or worse, he could at least be identified.
I paced back and forth in my little apartment, still hoping that Jacob and his friends might show up apologetic and hungry. But I knew this wasn’t going to happen. The sky was growing dusky as I peered out the window and down the street, hoping beyond hope to see a small band of renegades making their way toward the apartment complex. But the street remained surprisingly quiet. Everyone was probably tucked away in warm houses, sleeping off the effects of too much turkey and dressing.
I turned and looked at my feast, now cold and unappealing. My appetite had faded with my hopes, and for a moment I considered simply throwing the whole mess out. But that would be such a waste, and I had used nearly two weeks of my grocery budget for this dinner. Suddenly I remembered the story that Jesus had told about the man who had prepared a feast but no one had come. That man had sent his servants out to the streets to invite all the poor people. Of course, I had no servants to send out. And, as it was, I had already invited the poor people. After all, who was poorer than my son at the moment?
Then I remembered Jack Smart and Cammie and her two kids downstairs. Was it possible they might be interested in a Thanksgiving dinner this evening? Was the dinner even fit to serve? Without giving myself time to rethink or question myself, I pulled on a jacket and ran downstairs.
“What’s wrong?” asked Cammie as she opened the door. She looked haggard and tired, and I could hear the kids arguing back in a bedroom.
“I know this sounds crazy,” I began,“but I have this big Thanksgiving dinner upstairs. And, well, my guests never came, and I was, well, wondering if—”
“I would love to come!” she exclaimed, grabbing my hand. “I’d do anything to get out of this place today. The kids are driving me bonkers, and I was going to make macaroni and cheese. What time can we come?”
I smiled. “Give me about thirty minutes to warm things up.”
“Cool!” She turned and yelled,“Avery! Warren! Get ready. We’re going out tonight.”
I waved and took off for Jack Smart’s apartment, certain that I couldn’t get lucky twice in a row. But there was Jack in his slippers and cardigan.
“Are you hungry for turkey?” I asked.
He grinned. “Well, I did have a turkey TV dinner for my lunch, Glennis. But it sure wasn’t anything to write home about.”
“Well, I have turkey and dressing and pumpkin pie,” I explained. “And my guests never came, so I thought I’d invite some neighbors.”
“Sounds delicious.” He smacked his lips. “Can I bring anything?”
“Just