Saturday night family game night was another long-standing tradition in the Mercer household. Miles was glad to see it still prevailed. Back in the day, his friends used to come over and hang out. Sometimes they’d stay over. His mom prided herself on providing the kids with a place where they were all comfortable. His dad had been on active duty back then, on assignment wherever the army sent him. He petitioned for assignments at Fort Hood—or as close as possible—and sometimes he got them. But when his dad had been sent to places far away, his mother had been adamant about maintaining a normal life for her kids, giving them a permanent home base. Looking back, it seemed like their father was away more than he’d been home. Miles wondered how a marriage could’ve survived under those circumstances. Then again, his parents were built for the long haul. That’s just how his folks operated.
As various friends and relatives drifted in and out, hugging him, asking for the quick catch-up, Miles had a chance to take in his surroundings, marveling at how it all looked the same as when he was growing up, only now he saw it through a different lens.
The lower level of the house was an open floor plan with the kitchen, family room and a casual dining table contained in one area. The space that had once seemed so large looked a little smaller than he remembered it. The tile-covered countertops that he could vividly recall his mother being so excited about years ago looked a little worn and dingy now.
The same chalkboard from his childhood hung on the wall next to the refrigerator. The same linoleum that used to be a shade of off-white and was now leaning towards light gray, still covered the floor up to the point where the carpet in the family room began. It delineated the space where the kitchen ended and the family room started.
The same large, overstuffed sectional sofa sat atop the same Berber carpet that still looked brand new thanks to his mom’s TLC and obsessive vacuuming.
He watched her as she stirred pots on the stove and checked something in the oven—it looked like meat loaf—and worried over something else in the refrigerator.
“Hey, Ma,” he called. “Let me help you. What can I do?”
“Not a thing. You just talk to everyone and relax,” she said. “Lucy can help me here in the kitchen. Lucy, I’m talking to you. Lucy!”
The girl looked up from her place on the corner of the couch where she’d been texting and pulled one ear bud out of her ear.
“What?” she snapped.
Miles saw his mother give her a look and the girl immediately straightened up. Miles was all too familiar with that look. It was a silent warning. If she didn’t comply, the punishment would be worse than a court marshal. Deena Mercer’s husband might have retired a sergeant first class, but she was the long-standing general of the Mercer army. She commanded respect and her family gave it to her.
“I think you know that the correct response is yes, ma’am,” Deena said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Lucy answered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.” Miles could see the way the girl’s hands were fisted in her lap, but her tone of voice was much softer now.
“Please put that cell phone down and come here. I need you to set the table in the dining room and the one here in the family room, and then set the picnic table out on the back porch for the kids. We need twenty place settings in all, please.”
Lucy didn’t smile, but she nodded and set about her duties, tucking the phone into the pocket of her jeans rather than setting it down as her mother had told her to do. Miles sensed something was up. His little sister had an edge that went beyond typical teenage angst and moodiness.
When the girl was out of the room, he asked his mom, “Is Lucy okay?”
His mother’s face tightened and her mouth flattened into a grim line. She hefted the pot of boiling potatoes off the stove and dumped them into a large colander in the sink.
“It’s been an interesting year,” she said as she set the pot back on the stove and turned back to the sink to shake the remaining water out of the potatoes.
“Grab yourself a beer out of the fridge and I’ll tell you about it,” she said. “While you’re over there would you hand me the cream, please?”
Miles handed the quart-size container to her and then opened his beer.
His brothers were occupied by a game of Mario Kart with the nieces. His older sister, Patricia, was following her toddler around making sure she didn’t get into anything she wasn’t supposed to. The others were out in the backyard, or grouped in various sets talking about one thing or another like big families did.
Miles pushed back the question of when his father might grace them with his presence. He hadn’t materialized since Miles had seen him in the office, and after mulling over the expression his dad wore, he decided he’d be damned before he asked about him. Especially since he had these few moments alone with his mother, and he could tell she wanted to catch him up on what had been happening with Lucy.
“Thank you, hon,” she said as she took the carton from him and brushed a lock of graying hair off her forehead. “Your little sister has been a bit of a handful this past year. She’s had a hard time, but she’s settling down now.” Deena heaved a sigh and looked around, as if making sure no one was listening in on their conversation. Miles guessed she might’ve been looking for Lucy, who wasn’t within earshot. He could see her through the sliding glass doors, standing next to the picnic table she was supposed to be setting, on her phone texting.
Pushing the envelope.
“About six months ago, your little sister snuck out in the middle of the night and went joyriding with that Phillips boy. She had no business being out with him at a decent hour much less in the middle of the night. He’s seventeen years old.”
Deena gestured with the wooden spoon she’d been using to stir the butter and cream she was heating up on the stove. “The boy’s parents woke up at about 2:30 in the morning, realized the car was missing and reported it stolen, before they realized their son had taken it. When the police found them, the boy was drunk. The police hauled both him and Lucy down to the station and made them call their parents, which was fine with your daddy and me because after that stunt, we’d reached our wits’ end with that little girl.”
Miles grimaced, thinking about what a nightmare that must have been for all involved. He’d pulled some pretty dumb stunts when he’d lived at home. Nothing as brazen as what Lucy had done—or at least he’d never been caught doing anything that stupid. Although his father would have an opinion or two when it came to the subject of Miles and stupidity. “So what happened?” Miles asked. “Was she okay?”
“Well, yes. She swore she hadn’t been drinking. The police made her take a Breathalyzer, so I knew she was telling the truth. And of course the parents didn’t press charges against their own son…although he did get into a heap of trouble over the underage drinking and driving. Lost his license, I think, and he’ll probably be on restriction until he’s thirty. I know we grounded Lucy for a very long time, even though the sheriff did a good job of scaring them both.”
His mom looked tired. Under the kitchen’s fluorescent lights he could see the creases etched into her face. There was a weariness about her that he’d never noticed before.
“After everything settled down and we had a chance to talk about it calmly, Lucy admitted she had been in way over her head with
