Thanksgiving arrived with the promise of noise and warmth. Daisy and Lucy spent the day in the kitchen, bustling between the oven and counters, laughter trailing behind them. Lucas tried to help but was shooed away with floured hands and mock exasperation. “Go set the table!” his sister Lucy had grinned.
By afternoon, relatives poured in—uncles, aunts, cousins and his grandparents. The house swelled with voices and smells: cinnamon, sage, roasting turkey. For a while, Lucas let himself melt into it. He drank cider, played with his niece, even forgot the tight knot in his chest. For a while.