One Smooth Stone. Marcia Lee Laycock
was hard to avoid Kenni for the rest of the trip, especially when she passed out sandwiches and sodas for lunch. Alex managed not to make eye contact. He wasn’t into making idle conversation with George either so he stayed with Drew at the helm, learning how to maneuver the boat until they moored it late in the day below a large boathouse.
The Adams’ “beach house” was a sprawling cedar home, its front mostly high windows extending to a steep roof. Alex felt like he was walking onto a movie set. And he was the only prop that didn’t fit. As they left the dock he noticed a woman waving from the deck. She came to meet them as they walked through the front door, giving Drew a peck on the cheek and Kenni a hug. She reached out and squeezed George’s hand. Kenni didn’t make any attempt to introduce him, and Alex noticed Drew waited for her to do so until it was obvious he would have to.
“Alex, this is my wife, Marie.”
“So you’re the famous Alex Donnelly.” Alex thought he heard Kenni groan. Her mother extended her hand and Alex was struck by how different the two women were. In contrast to Kenni’s slim figure, Marie was short and well into the stage of middle-aged spread. Her hair was blond, though Alex suspected it wasn’t natural. But he was drawn into her warm smile.
“Or maybe infamous,” he said in a flat tone.
Marie chuckled. “Well, if we were truthful, we’d all have to admit to a bit of infamy, wouldn’t we?”
Alex didn’t smile, but met her steady gaze as she chattered on.
“I hope you’re hungry. I’ve been cooking all afternoon. Do you like seafood, Alex? I’ve made Drew’s favorite, Dungeness crab. With a chocolate mousse for dessert. It’s fairly light and quite fun to make. And we have some wonderful coffee some friends just brought us from Brazil. Do you drink coffee? I hope so. It’d be a shame not to taste it.”
Without waiting for him to answer her questions she turned to her husband. “You don’t need to change, do you, dear? It’s almost ready. You don’t mind an early supper, do you?”
She turned to Alex again. “We don’t dress for dinner here, Alex. When we’re at the beach we keep things informal. I like it better that way, don’t you?” Alex opened his mouth to reply, but she’d already turned to George.
“So how was the day, George? Did Drew let you take the helm?”
“Alex was our pilot for most of the day,” George managed to squeeze in. He flashed a look at Alex that made him frown.
Marie’s eyebrows shot up. “Ah, you’re privileged indeed, Alex. Drew doesn’t let just anyone handle the Angel.”
“He did a fine job,” Drew said.
“Well, you all must be starving. I always get so hungry when I’ve been out on the water, don’t you? Kenni, why don’t you show Alex where he can wash up? I’ve got to get back to the kitchen.”
Kenni pointed toward the back of the house without looking at him. “Down that hallway, to your right.”
Alex followed the directions without comment.
George was waiting for him when he came out and he wasted no time coming to the point.
“What did you say to Kenni?”
“What?”
“She’s in the worst mood I’ve seen her in for months. What’d you say to her?”
Alex scowled. “Maybe you should ask her what she said to me.”
“Kenni’s the most considerate, compassionate person I’ve ever known. So don’t—”
Alex snorted. “I thought you said you had no attachment.”
George’s frown deepened and he lowered his voice a notch as he leaned forward. “We’re friends, Alex. Maybe that’s a word you don’t understand, but I’m warning you.…”
Alex’s hands clenched into fists. He felt the familiar rage building. Part of him wanted to let go and slam his fist into George’s face. Part of him tried to hold back. He forced his fingers to straighten as Marie’s voice floated out to them from the other end of the house.
“Dinner, everyone. Come to the table please. Kenni? Find those boys and get them in here. I don’t want this to get cold.”
They heard Kenni’s footsteps approaching.
George stepped around the corner to meet her. “Alex is coming,” he told her. Their footsteps faded away.
Alex slumped against the wall, reached for a cigarette, and cursed under his breath when he remembered he didn’t have any. He lingered in the hallway until he heard Drew call his name. He pushed himself away from the wall and joined them.
At the table, set with linen and gleaming silverware, Alex again found himself feeling like a cracked mug in a cabinet full of expensive china. The feeling intensified when Drew asked George to say the grace just as Alex picked up his knife and fork. He laid them down, the soft thud clanging in his ears.
George immediately bowed his head. Alex watched as Drew reached for his wife’s hand. Then he watched George’s face as he prayed.
“Father, we thank you for this day, for safety on the water and for good weather. We thank you for friends and the fellowship we can have together.” George was quiet for a moment and Alex thought he was finished until he started up again.
“And, uh, we ask your forgiveness, Father, for…for doing and saying things we know we shouldn’t. We thank you most of all for who you are and what you’ve done for us. Help us to be mindful of you and act according to your will in all things. We ask that you bless this food now, to your use in our bodies. Amen.”
George opened his eyes and Alex quickly averted his, but in that second he thought he saw a flash of regret mixed with something else. He wondered what George was thinking. The others echoed the Amen and began passing bowls.
Alex watched them as he ate, his heart rate slowly returning to normal. They laughed and chatted, eating slowly and commenting often on how good it was. Are these people for real?
He remembered the table where he ate as a kid. It was cold gray metal and never covered. The plates were mismatched, some of them cracked. It was a table where Wild Bill took huge bites of steak, stuffing his mouth with more before swallowing what was already in it. Alex and the other kids ate freezer-burned hotdogs and over-cooked macaroni. They always knew what food they were not allowed to touch, and God help them if they dared to take what was not designated “foster food.”
Alex blocked the memories by listening to the conversation and managed to enjoy the meal—so much so that he couldn’t help complimenting Marie on her cooking.
“That’s one of the best meals I’ve ever had, Mrs. Adams.”
She beamed. “Thank you, Alex. It’s always nice to receive a compliment.”
Drew pushed his chair back. “So I suppose it’s up to us to clean up your kitchen now?” He winked at Alex. “Marie is the best cook on the West Coast, but she makes the worst mess while she does it.”
“Well, since we have a guest I could let you off the hook tonight.” Marie smiled at her husband.
Kenni stood and reached for her father’s plate. Alex saw her eyes flick toward him, then dart away again. He watched the soft curves of her body sway as she walked away. George picked up his plate and followed her, blocking his view.
“How are you with a tea towel, Alex?” Drew was already heading toward the kitchen.
Alex stood up. “Uh, okay I guess.” He hoped he didn’t drop anything as he joined the line at the sink. When they were almost done Drew invited him into the living room. Kenni was still putting leftovers away. He noticed George stayed behind.
Drew took a large recliner and waved Alex on to the long sofa. Alex sat on the edge