“Sorry,” Nathan mouthed to Mark when he came back into the dining room. Mark emphatically shook his head no, like he had nothing to apologize for.
Once Franny came back down wearing jeans and cotton sweater, everyone took their seats. Nathan sat in Mariel’s chair, and his grandparents sat across the table in Franny and Walt’s seats. The kids used folding chairs.
Mark brought a water pitcher to the table. “I’m glad that Grandma and Grandpa could join us this evening. It’s always a pleasure when they drop in.”
“We miss seeing you at weekly services,” Pastor Fry said. “You should come back to a real church, not that naff place you take the kids.”
“We’ll take it under consideration. Would you care to say the prayer tonight?” Mark asked.
Pastor Fry proceeded to recite a traditional, bland version of grace. There was no flair, no personality like there had been with the rest of the family. Liam liked to incorporate lyrics into his grace, while Walt always made sure his rhymed. Pastor Fry had the authoritative, booming church voice that made Nathan feel like he was stuck in a pew for midnight mass.
“Amen!” Brenda said, with the others following shortly thereafter.
They dug into steak and potatoes with a side of vegetables. It was the plainest meal Mark had ever cooked, though still tasty.
“Mark, you should try cooking mutton. It is so tender and juicy,” the Pastor said.
“We don’t eat lamb,” Mark said. “We raise them.”
“Our parents only raised sheep for wool, never for meat,” Liam added.
“Well, that’s ridiculous. You are missing out.”
Liam plunged his fork into his potatoes extra hard. Nathan gave his leg a stealth squeeze under the table.
“Nathan, I can’t help noticing your accent. You’re not from around here,” Brenda said with a teasing smile. “Do we have a Brit in our midst?”
“We do,” he said. “I am doing some traveling and have stopped in New Zealand.”
“And decided to work on a farm?” Pastor Fry shoved a forkful of meat in his mouth.
“Nathan’s preparing for a movie role,” Walt said.
“Yes! A small, independent film.” This was the type of smalltalk that Nathan could never do without being completely smashed. “It’s very different from my prior acting work back in London, but I’m excited about the challenge.”
“You’re from London?” Pastor Fry asked.
“Born and raised.”
“You were born there?”
“Correct.”
“Are you at university?”
Pastor Fry shot out questions rapid fire. Nathan got the feeling that was how he was with everyone.
“I am not. I took some time off to travel. I wanted to travel now when I’m young.”
“Lovely,” Brenda said. There was a quiet current under her words, not as bubbly as she was on the couch. “I wish we’d done more traveling when we were your age.”
“How old are you, Nathan?” Walt asked, one of those random questions kids didn’t know to hold back.
“I turned twenty-two back in May.” Nathan checked across the table to see if that rang any bells for his grandparents. The moment got so quiet he could’ve heard a pin drop.
“Happy belated birthday then,” Pastor Fry said with a polite smile. He and his wife turned their attention back to their food, Walt regaled the table with a story about a spider in his room, and it was like whatever moment Nathan thought he felt never happened.
“Really great dinner, Mark!” Pastor Fry said.
