Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
I step back and assess the small line of cars snaking around the side of the building. We’ve been at this for almost an hour and there’s no sign of it letting up. “It’s like this every year?”
“People sure like their fresh, free-range birds. We figured out this drive-thru is the easiest way to do it.” Jon strolls up to the driver-side window of the pickup to collect the customer’s receipt that they received when they paid inside. That was the deal for me to help at the market today—Jon does all the talking; I do the fetching. “Twenty-pounder!” he announces, handing the slip to me.
I head into the refrigerated trailer to retrieve the appropriately sized turkey while Jon chats them up about the weather, the bison photographs he took that Sarah sells inside, and whatever the fuck else comes out of his mouth on any given day. I’ll admit, he has taken some decent pictures.
“Just toss it in the back seat here.” The man throws his thumb over his shoulder toward his truck cab.
I follow orders wordlessly.
“Merry Christmas, fellas!” The burly man drives off.
I won’t deny that seeing everyone in such good spirits is infectious.
“Logan!” My mom pops out the back door, her smile bright. “Guess who’s here!”
An older couple step out behind her.
“Uh …” I frown, stealing a glance my mother’s way. I’ve never seen these people in my life. Or have I?
“Hi, Logan,” the woman says. She’s slight with a gray-blond bob partially hidden by a knit hat. “I’m Carol Roth. You pulled me from Lake Temagami a few months ago.” Her eyes sparkle with nervousness and excitement.
“Oh. Shit.”
“Logan,” my mother scolds before hollering, “Thomas! Come and help! You’re on turkey duty.”
The boy trots out the door to take my place. It’s all-hands-on-deck today, apparently. Even Holt is in there, handing out pies.
The man with Carol notes the line of cars. “I’m sorry, this probably wasn’t the best day to come—”
“Nonsense!” My mother waves his worries away. “We’re so happy to finally meet you.”
Carol stares up at my face with a mixture of awe and something I can’t read. “I’ve been meaning to visit for some time, and then Don said, ‘Let’s just drive up today and see if you’re around.’ And, well, here we are and here you are.” Her smile blooms slowly but it keeps going, spreading wider and wider until it seems to take up her entire face.
And I’m standing here like an idiot. “How are you doing?”
“Well, thank you. The doctors are monitoring me, and I have a slew of new medicines, but as far as that day goes, I’m fully recovered.” Somehow, her smile gets even bigger. “Because of you.”
“I’m just glad we got there in time,” I mutter, growing uncomfortable. Even the people lined up in the cars seem to be watching.
“Twenty-four-pounder!” Jon hollers, and off Thomas goes into the trailer.
“We won’t keep you from doing your job, but maybe we can come back another time, when it’s quieter.”
“Absolutely,” my mother butts in to say.
Carol hesitates but then closes in to grip my hands in hers, squeezing them tightly. “Thank you, Logan, for saving my life.”
I nod, awkwardness holding my tongue.
When she releases me, her husband, Don, holds out his hand, waiting for a handshake.
I accept it after a moment’s hesitation.
“I can’t begin to find the words to thank you,” he says hoarsely. “That was very brave of you.”
“Anyone would have done the same,” I offer as Jon and the recipient of the twenty-four-pounder eavesdrop. Thank God for this beard so they can’t see my burning face.
“No, they wouldn’t. And you’re the one who did. For that, I am eternally grateful. We’ll see you again soon.” Don slides a protective arm around his wife, and my mom leads them back into the market store, but not without winking at me over her shoulder.
That was … unexpected, and it leaves me standing there, unable to find my footing for a moment.
Thomas stumbles out the door, losing his grip on the turkey and sending it rolling down the ramp.
Chapter 36
Emery
Bobby’s whistle blast cuts through the sunny, cold afternoon as Jameson hits Logan into the boards. “Roughing!”
Logan laughs as his cousin throws his hands in the air.
“Come on! That was nothing.”
“No contact means no contact!” Bobby points toward the penalty box. “Two minutes on the clock, Macy!”
The five-year-old clutches a stopwatch in her mitten-clad hands. Beside her, Sarah operates the scoreboard and time keeper while Egan is suitably occupied with the bongo set Santa brought him, banging away without rhythm or rhyme.
The burn barrel blazes on the far side, and a cluster of cousins, spouses, and aunts huddle around it, absorbing warmth while Jill and Rhonda tend to the hot chocolate and mulled wine urns. The scent of smoking meat lingers in the air.
“Gosh, he really takes this seriously.” Jon’s sister-in-law Madison muses as Bobby skates past, his black-and-white referee shirt snug over layers of sweaters. Each year the three family patriarchs take their turn. This year, Holt and Wyatt are in net.