More Than You Know (26 page)

44

“
N
ow
are you ready for something to eat?” Beryl asked, turning to Micah.

“I’m starving!” he said. He called Harper, and Flannery, still panting, trundled along after her.

They went inside and, while Beryl fixed three plates, Micah lit the candles on the table and poured two glasses of wine. “Char, would you like some milk?”

Charlotte scooted onto a chair. “Yes, please.”

Beryl set the plates on the table. “I’m so glad you guys are here. It would’ve been so depressing to have everyone leave at once and be alone in this big house.”

Micah sat down next to Charlotte. “We’re glad we’re here too.”

Beryl sat down across from them. “You must think my family is crazy.”

Micah shook his head. “They’re not crazy. Wait until you meet mine!”

Beryl opened her napkin. “They can’t be any crazier than mine.”

He laughed. “Don’t be so sure.”

She took a bite of her lasagna and looked skeptical. “How so?”

Micah reached for the butter and broke open his roll. “Well, we have a huge family picnic in the summertime—if you come, you can meet everyone and find out for yourself.”

“Who’s everyone? Charlotte, do you have a lot of cousins?”

Charlotte nodded and Micah laughed. “Actually, I don’t know if
a lot
covers it!” He leaned back. “Let’s see, my Uncle Isaac—my dad’s brother—has four daughters; my uncle always wanted a boy, and he and my Aunt Nina kept trying, but it never happened. My dad still loves to tease him about it. Isaac wanted to keep trying too, but my Aunt Nina said the chances of having another girl were far too great and she said she didn’t think he could handle it.”

Beryl laughed and Micah continued, “So, then each of the girls got married and had kids, and between the four of them, there are ten offspring. It’s a real hoot when we’re all out at the Cape. My dad and my Uncle Isaac inherited my grandparents’ house in Eastham, and when they go out there they have these great parties.” Micah smiled, remembering. “They call themselves the Gin and Chowder Club. It’s been a family tradition for longer than I can remember.”

“What about your brother?” Beryl asked, sipping her wine.

Micah grinned. “Noah and his wife have five boys—all between the ages of seven and twenty.”

“No!”

Micah nodded as he took a bite of his roll.

“Where do they live?”

“Out on the Cape. Noah is a minister, and his wife, Laney, is a teacher.”

Beryl nodded, taking a bite of her lemon chicken. “Anyone else?”

Micah laughed. “I haven’t
even
gotten to my mom’s side! My mom is a Carlson—did you ever hear of the Carlson Christmas Tree Farm?”

Beryl popped a piece of pineapple in her mouth and her face lit up. “Of course, we always got our tree there!”

“Then you know the area . . . up near Hancock?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Micah adjusted his glasses. “So, my mom is the youngest of eight, and every one of my aunts and uncles, except for my Uncle Tim, has between three and six kids; so, if you do the math, I have at least twenty-eight cousins . . . and all my cousins have kids, whose ages range from four to oh, let’s say thirty . . . not to mention all the dogs, cats, cows, bunnies, lizards, and frogs. I can’t even give you a total count, but my mom knows.”

Beryl’s eyes were wide with amazement. “Wow! That must be some family picnic!”

Micah nodded and took a bite of his chicken. “It is—they all live up that way. My cousins have every kind of farm imaginable, an orchard and cider mill, a sugar house, countless vegetable stands, and beehives for honey . . . and, of course, the tree farm. One of my cousins even has a dairy farm. They make their own ice cream in the summer and have a small ice-cream stand, which is a hot spot for the locals.”

Beryl sopped up her plate with her roll. “So, how did your mom break away from farming and become a teacher?”

Micah reached for his glass. “My mom’s older brother Tim—he was the next one up from her—had Down’s syndrome, and when they were growing up my mom became very interested in working with special ed kids. She always wanted to be a teacher.”

Concern shadowed Beryl’s face. “How come you said
had?
”

Micah smiled sadly. “My Uncle Tim died. My mom was devastated—everyone was. He was a great guy.”

“I’m sorry,” Beryl said.

Micah nodded. “It was a long time ago. Most people with Down’s live to their mid-fifties and Tim made it to fifty-six.”

They were quiet for a while and Beryl leaned back. “Well, I had no idea your family was so big. We’ve known each other since high school and I never knew any of this.” She smiled. “What am I getting myself into?”

“You’re getting yourself into a lot of fun,” Micah said with a grin. “We’ve had a lot of good times. My family is always there for me. You should’ve seen the turnout at Beth’s service—everyone came. I think her family was a little overwhelmed.” He looked down. “Sorry . . . there I go again.”

“Micah,” Beryl said softly, reaching for his hand. “It’s okay. I don’t mind when you talk about Beth.”

He nodded, wiping his eyes and putting his glasses back on, and suddenly realized Charlotte wasn’t sitting next to him. He looked around and Beryl pointed to the dog bed, where she was curled up between Harper and Flannery—sound asleep. Micah smiled and shook his head.

Beryl stood to clear their plates and Micah stood too.

“You don’t have to help with this stuff, you’ve done enough.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m not leaving you with all this.”

Beryl reluctantly gave in and they washed and dried the dishes; then she started to put the leftovers in smaller containers. “We finally made a dent in all this food, but there’s still more—are you free tomorrow night?”

“Maybe,” he teased, slipping the dish towel around her waist and pulling her toward him.

She laughed. “I’m a little busy, you know.”

“Too busy for this?” he asked, kissing her neck.

“Well . . . no, I guess not,” she murmured.

He playfully brushed his lips over her eyelashes. “How ’bout this?”

“Mmm-hmm. Mmm-mmm.”

“And . . . this . . . ?” He pressed his lips softly against hers and, lost in the sweetness of his kiss, she barely shook her head. They stood together for a long time, gently kissing and marveling at the natural way their bodies fit together. Finally, Micah eased back. “I should go,” he said softly. Beryl nodded and watched as he lifted Charlotte into his arms. “C’mon, Harp.” The black Lab stood and stretched, and Flan opened one eye, but didn’t make a move to get up—she was too tired.

“I’ll walk out with you,” Beryl said, stroking Charlotte’s flushed cheek.

They went out on the porch and he reached for her hand. “Listen to those peepers!”

“I know—I love that sound!”

When they reached the car, she opened the door for Harper to hop in while Micah gently slipped Charlotte into her car seat on the other side, trying not to wake her, but when he pulled the harness over her head, she opened her eyes and blinked. “Where’s Beryl?”

“She’s right here,” he said, stepping back so she could see.

Beryl leaned down next to her and Charlotte pointed at the sky. Beryl looked up at the silvery sliver of crescent moon and Charlotte whispered, “I love you.”

Beryl smiled in surprise. “Oh, honey, I love you too!” But when she said the words, Charlotte gave her father a puzzled look and Beryl frowned. “What’s the matter? Did I say something wrong?”

Micah laughed, leaned forward, and whispered in her ear. “Oh!” she said. “Can I try again?”

Charlotte smiled shyly, nodded her head, and softly repeated the words. This time, Beryl gave the correct response, and Charlotte laughed and threw her arms around Beryl’s neck.

Beryl finally stood up and Micah realized she had tears in her eyes. “Why are you crying?!” he asked, reaching for her hands.

She brushed her cheek with her sleeve. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Well, it’s not because I’m sad,” she said, looking up at him.

He smiled and affectionately teased, “Well, that’s good.” Then he looked up at the house. “So, you’re staying here tonight?”

“Yup . . . just me and Flan and Thoreau,” she said, still wiping her eyes. “I think I’m going to let Thoreau stay here permanently; he seems to like being a country cat more than being a shop cat.”

“Are you going to be at the shop tomorrow?”

“I am. I have so much to do.”

“Should I tell Henry you’re looking for help?”

“Yes, please. Tell him to come by whenever he has a chance.”

“Okay, well, now that I’m thinking about it, he probably has track practice for a couple more weeks.”

“That’s fine.”

“I could help until he’s free.”

“That would be great.”

“Okay,” he said with a gentle smile. “You better get to bed, then. It’s back to the salt mines tomorrow.”

She laughed. “My mom used to say that.”

“Mine too,” he said, gently entwining his fingers in hers. He paused, searching her cornflower blue eyes, and then asked softly, “Do you know that I love you too?”

She smiled, her eyes sparkling. “And I love you . . . to the moon and back!”

 

 

5¼ tablespoons butter (melted)
8–9 apples (I use Macs)
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
Dash of salt
½ teaspoon cinnamon
1 egg

 

 

Melt butter and set aside. Peel, core, and slice apples to almost fill an 11x7 baking dish. Preheat oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit. Sift together all dry ingredients in mixing bowl and break one egg into mixture. Blend with a pastry blender until evenly crumbly and spread on top of apples. Spoon melted butter over topping in rows. Bake for 30-40 minutes or until golden brown.

Serve with vanilla ice cream! Yum!!!

 

1 cup sugar
¼ pound butter (softened)
1 cup sour cream
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 eggs
2 cups flour (sifted)
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
Pinch salt

 

½ cup chopped walnuts
½ cup sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon

 

Mix topping ingredients together. Set aside. Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Grease and flour angel-food cake pan. Cream together butter and sugar with electric mixer. Add eggs and sour cream and beat until smooth. Sift together remaining dry ingredients in a separate bowl and blend into mixture. Batter will be thick. Spread half the batter into the angel-food cake pan and sprinkle with half of the sugar, cinnamon, and nut topping. Spread remaining batter on top and sprinkle remaining sugar, cinnamon, and nut mixture. (I gently press down the topping with the back of a spoon.) Bake for 40 minutes or until toothpick comes out clean. Let cool and remove from pan. Enjoy anytime with a hot cup o’ coffee or tea or a big glass of milk!

To request any other recipes mentioned in this book, please write to me through my Web site:
www.nanrossiter.com
. I’d love to hear from you!

ABOUT THIS GUIDE

 

 

The suggested questions that follow are included to enhance your group’s reading of
More Than You Know.