“Anyway.” Shawn clears his throat as he passes the potatoes to me. “Glad you could visit us tonight. We don’t get to see much of Sophie anymore, and it’s rare she brings a guy home.”
I scoop out the potatoes and pass them to Sophie. “Thank you for having me. It’s been a long time since I had a home-cooked meal.”
“If you’re excited about the food,” Shawn replies, “you can rest assured Susan’s meatloaf is not only above average, but it's some of the best you'll ever eat.”
I steal a gaze at Sophie, who’s beaming back at both of her parents. Their energy all syncs together, creating this harmony, nothing like what happens at my parents’ house. I have a happy family, but both my parents have solid careers, and they work a lot. We ate dinner together when they were home, but they were mostly quiet. My parents sure didn’t allow water guns in the house. I would have been grounded for life for that. I got grounded for a whole month when I put a puck through the basement door. They were so particular with their décor and keeping things nice. Not that there's anything wrong with treating things with respect, but they could stand to loosen up a bit.
Once the food is all circulated, Shawn takes his wife’s hand and bows his head. It’s obvious he’s going to pray, and I follow his lead and lower my gaze, half wondering if this is going to be another joke.
“Dear Lord,” Shawn recites with what seems like sincere commitment, “thank you for this food, for those who prepared it, and for the family and our new friend, Axl, with whom we share it. In Jesus' name, we pray. Amen.” He raises his gaze back to his plate, and everyone digs in as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I’m quite honored he included my name in his prayer. I don’t come from an overly spiritual background. I’ve been to churchand all, but my family never prayed in front of strangers. I dig into my meatloaf, and it only takes a couple of bites for me to agree with Shawn that Susan’s meatloaf isabove average.It’s not only seasoned to perfection but has amazing chew through, but in the oddest way, it's not the meatloaf that makes this meal amazing. If I must explain it, I’ll say it’s because of the company making me feel so welcome.
“So, Axl.” Susan sort of hums from her seat across from me. “Tell us about yourself. Where did you grow up, and what’s your family like? Have you always played hockey?”
“Certainly.” Swallowing my food, I straighten my spine and fix my gaze on her. “I grew up in the Midwest. Only child. Two great parents. Dad is a milk hauler, and my mom is a nurse who works nights. The town I’m from has only about five hundred people, and there’s not much to do, especially in winter. I would usually spend my time on the pond ice skating since it was free and by my house. I didn’t even know I was good at it until our middle school formed a hockey team. The coach had seen me skating at the park and asked me to try out. After that, everything became about hockey. I got lucky and was able to play in college, where we made it to the championship games in our division. That game was televised, and that’s how Bill Baker, the owner of Granite Ice, saw me. He flew out and offered me a spot as a starter for his new team.”
“That worked out pretty smoothly.” Susan beams at me. “Have you been to Mapleton before?”
“Never heard of it.” I chuckle, remembering that I didn’t even remember where Vermont was on the map.
“Do you like it so far?” Susan asks as she takes a bite of potatoes.
“Yeah, it’s not too bad.” I saw off a chunk of my meatloaf.. “I’m used to small towns. As long as I have a place to sleep and skate, I’m happy.”
“Well,” Shawn interjects, holding his finger up as his elbow rests on the table, “I will tell you two secrets nobody knows about this town unless you’re born and raised.”
I steal a gaze at Sophie. She’s happily chewing her food, and something about seeing her doing the most normal thing stirs my heart. It feels special to be included in this part of her life. I would have never expected this, but just sitting next to her at the dinner table makes it really hard to focus on Shawn. I slide my lips over my teeth, and I lean toward Shawn. “What are the secrets?”
“The first happened years ago.” Shawn starts off with the utmost serious expression on his face. I half expect a ghost story, so I’m swallowing and tuning in. “A circus was driving through town and crashed along the interstate overpass. All their monkey cages were dumped, and the monkeys escaped into the brush. People thought they’d all die off in the New England weather, but surprisingly, they’ve been populating and carrying on with their best lives. So, if you ever notice any wild monkeys, it’s not your imagination.”
Thinking he’s joking, I start to chuckle, but everyone holds their serious expression, so I swallow my humor. “Wow, that’s crazy. I haven’t seen anything like that, but thanks for the heads up.”
“This one’s even better,” he says, letting me in on the second secret. “When I was growing up, there was a huge media kerfuffle in the local papers about someone breaking into a barn and ‘spooking’ some chickens. It was a regular thing, where every morning there was another complaint that Farmer Hanson’s barn was being broken into. This was well before video cameras were a thing, so we had to set a good ol’ fashion stakeout to stay up all night and see what was going on. Turns out, his rowdy son was running an illegal casino underneath the barn! He’d dug himself a root cellar with a trap door he coveredwith a big pile of hay, and he was entertaining travelers from all over, but . . . ” Shawn pauses and wags his finger at me. “The best part is that these travelers were usually hungry, and Farmer Hanson’s son learned how to cook. With a lack of resources, he grilled steak kebobs over an open camp fire. Of course, they were breaking every fire code there ever was, but those were the best cuts of meat a man will ever eat.” He licks his lips as if he can still taste the kabobs. “When they came to shut down the casino, those kebabs won over the police. Somehow, he got off with some phony ticket and a business license to set up his own kabob shop right in the town square—”
“Wait a second,” I interrupt as I’m putting two and two together. “You’re not telling me that’s where Red Barn Kebobs in town square got their start, are you?”
“I knew your mama didn’t raise a fool.” Shawn’s smile spreads wide as he chuckles at his own joke. “Isn’t that wild?”
“It’s true.” Sophie nods as her eyes sparkle back at me. I am thoroughly engrossed in this story, but it doesn’t stop me from noticing how stunning Sophie is, even when she’s doing the most mundane things, like eating average meatloaf. “They do have thebestkebobs,” she gushes. “Have you tried them yet?”
“No, I haven’t. I’ve only seen the sign, but now that I know it’s famous history, I’ll have to go there.” An idea sparks in my head, and before I have a chance to push it away, I risk it. “Maybe you and I can check it out together?”
Her eyes drop to her plate. Her lashes flutter a few times before she raises her gaze back to mine. “Yeah, that’s definitely something we can plan on.”
“Well.” Shawn pushes his chair back as he takes the napkin off his lap and sets it on his plate. “That meatloaf was delicious like always. Thanks for dinner, honey.”
“Don’t get up yet. I was just going to bring out my famous boiled eggs.” Susan stands and motions for us to stay sitting.
Sophie nearly sprays water out of her mouth from the cup she was drinking out of. “No eggs, Mama, but thanks.”
Susan laughs as well, collecting plates. I had been so entranced in Shawn’s stories, I hadn’t noticed everyone had cleaned their plates, including myself.
“Yes, thank you.” I stand, lifting my plate and carrying it to the sink. “Can I help with anything?”
“You are welcome.” Susan comes up from behind me, lowering her stack of dishes to the counter. “It sounds sort of corny, but doing dishes is sort of my me time. I turn on my Loretta Lynn and we just vibe.” She nods toward Sophie. “You two kids can just relax. I know it’s been a long time since Sophie has had time off.”
“I agree. And I have an idea.” Sophie slides in next to her mom, reaches into the cupboard, and retrieves two glasses and a corkscrew. She motions to the bottle of wine I brought that’s still resting untouched on the counter. “We can take that wine on the porch. It’s screened in, and a little chilly, but if we take a blanket, it might be cozy.” She winks at me, and a zap of electricity slams into my gut.
