The Blue Door - By Christa Kinde Page 0,11

Tad.

The Pomeroy’s table was a long, wide, solid piece of craftsmanship that had dominated the farmhouse kitchen for the better part of a century. Its wooden surface showed years of wear, scarred and smoothed by turns, and it could accommodate the entire family with room to spare. With a dozen people crowded around it, dinner was even more lively than usual, which made it easier for Prissie to hang back. Normally, she was in the thick of every discussion, but tonight, she joined Tad on the sidelines.

“You feeling okay, Priss?” he murmured. Tad was eighteen and heading into his senior year at high school. Her big-big brother’s serious gray eyes considered her, then turned back to his plate, but after taking a bite of mashed potatoes, he glanced her way, still waiting for an answer.

“It’s been a strange day,” she whispered back, offering a strained smile for reassurance.

He nodded once, then gave his attention to the main thread of conversation, which was happening at Dad’s end of the table, where Grandpa was seated across from Harken. “Saw the notice last week. Can’t hardly believe it’s almost time for Messiah rehearsals to pick back up again,” Pete Pomeroy remarked.

“They are starting earlier this year,” Harken replied. “The director wants to give everyone time to learn the new arrangements.”

Harken attended Holy Trinity Presbyterian, a picturesque stone church noted for its stained glass windows and pipe organ, and every December, they hosted a full-scale performance of Handel’s Messiah. They pulled choir members from the whole community, and the annual production was the highlight of the holidays for many locals, especially Grandpa Pete.

“Not sure I approve of them trying to snazz up the classics,” the old farmer grumbled. “Adding the symphony was classy, but electric guitars and whatnot? I just don’t know.”

“Oh, don’t be such a fuddy-duddy, Peter,” scolded Nell. “I think it sounds fun!”

Pete had been growling out the low notes with the bass section for upwards of forty years, with his wife lending her strength to the alto section. Prissie could understand his lack of enthusiasm over the plans to mix things up and modernize the score. Harken smiled and offered, “Times change, but the message remains the same.”

Grandpa harrumphed, but Milo spoke up before the old man could voice another complaint. “I’ll be taking part for the first time this year. A friend from Deo Volente roped me into it.”

“Oh, yeah?” Neil asked, perking up. “Tad, Beau and I have been going to Deo Volente at Harper’s Elementary School, though you should know kids call it DeeVee. They have an amazing band. It’d be great if you joined.”

The meal continued, and conversation rambled from one topic to the next. Eventually, plates were pushed back and Dad made a comment about Beau’s new book. The teen grinned at Harken. “I’ll gladly work for books.”

“Oho!” cheered Neil. “Someone’s finally figured out how to get Beau’s nose out of a book!”

“Lure him with the promise of more,” Tad teased.

Beau made a face at his older siblings, but joined in on the laughter that rippled through the room. Harken’s deep chuckle lasted longest, and then he said, “I’ll send word when the next shipment comes in, and you can have your pick. If you and Prissie can make time for me with what’s left of the summer, I’d appreciate it.”

As everyone’s attention swung in her direction, Prissie hastily excused herself from the table to refill the water pitchers. Her back was very straight as she pulled ice cube trays from the freezer and busied herself in front of the sink. When she stole a peek over her shoulder, Momma was starting to stand, but Harken raised a hand, saying, “Let me. I need to settle up with your daughter for the help she offered earlier.”

Naomi smiled and nodded, and Milo dove into the fray, turning the conversation in a completely new direction. “Say, Neil, has the football team started meeting yet?”

“Next week,” the teen answered. “We had sports camp last month, so Coach gave us a couple weeks to rest up before practice starts up again. I’ve seen you at some of the games. You a football fan?”

“I go to all the home games,” the mailman enthusiastically replied.

“No kidding?”

Milo nodded. “I have a special place in my heart for the team. Any chance you’ll you be a starter this year?”

Neil shrugged and said, “Dunno yet. Hope so.”

Prissie tried to mentally brace herself to face Harken, but at the same time, she couldn’t help darting glances