“She likes planes,” Josh said wryly, as the girl paused for a breath. “This is my cousin Ava. Ava, say hello to Ms. Callahan.”
“Hi Ms. Callahan I’m Ava nice to meet you I’m ten and I’m Lisa’s daughter,” Ava rattled off.
“Uh, hi,” Hope said. “I’m...Hope.”
“We kinda get in the habit of listing our place in the family tree,” Josh explained. “After you’ve had to answer the question twenty times—”
“Sure,” Hope said. “That makes sense.” Already she dreaded having to remember so many names and attach them to faces.
The house was warm inside, a pleasant contrast to the brisk night air. As they walked through the front room and headed to the kitchen, Josh kept up a rapid-fire introduction of names and relationships.
“This is my cousin Taylor, that’s her brother Ian, over there is my cousin Connor, that’s my Aunt Allison, though I’m actually a few months older than her so it can get confusing.” She shook hands and returned nods and repeated each name she heard, as though that would help her. Even making that effort, she still immediately mixed up Mark and Matt. Too many Ms, she thought with a touch of panic.
They reached the kitchen, a spacious room dominated by a picnic-style table and benches, with exposed ceiling beams of the same wood. The double oven she could see made it even warmer, and the bold yellow walls contributed to the feeling. In fact, she felt slightly overheated. Or maybe she just wasn’t used to so many people.
“Rick Farris,” an older man was saying. Everything about him was gray; steel-gray hair, gunmetal eyes, faded black jeans and a gray henley. He extended his hand, and she took it gingerly, fearing one of those bone-crushing handshakes that men sometimes gave, but his touch was gentle and brief. Without realizing it, she sighed with relief and then looked up to see Rick’s mouth quirking in a half-smile.
“Survived the first onslaught?” Rick asked.
Hope tried to figure out a way to gracefully deny it, but gave it up as a lost cause. She settled for a weak “Nice to meet you.”
A shrill whistle pierced the air, and she turned with a start towards the source of the noise. Josh stood at the kitchen entrance. “Everyone get in here for a second!” The few stragglers she hadn’t met yet trickled in.
“Everyone, this is Hope, obviously.” She could tell Josh was nervous, and so could his family, judging by the chuckles that she heard. “I’m really glad she’s come here to visit so I could show her around the place and introduce her to everyone. Please be nice to her—as nice as you weirdos can manage.”
He stopped speaking, and Hope suddenly felt everyone’s attention shift to her. Oh, God, what was she expected to do? Make a speech? She just stood there, frozen, and after a few interminable, uncomfortable seconds, the group started to disperse.
“Hey,” Allison said, coming up to her. “I bet you would really like a chance to sit down, maybe wash your face and rest a bit before dinner.”
Hope grasped at the lifeline. “Yes, that would be...that would be great.”
“We got a couple of the kids to grab your bags, so everything should be waiting in your room.” The most striking thing about Allison was easily her waist-length black hair, which she was pulling up into a ponytail.
“Do I have to share a room?” she asked, trying not to sound appalled by the prospect.
“Uh, no,” Allison said, seemingly taken aback. “We wouldn’t do that to you. Or to anyone who came to visit us.”
“Sorry,” Hope said, dying on the inside from embarrassment. “I just thought...I guess I don’t know what I thought.”
“Come on, it’s just down the hall this way.” Allison walked out of the kitchen and gestured to the left. Hope followed her down the hallway to an open door that led to a small bedroom. The room contained a single bed covered with an old-fashioned quilt, a nightstand and lamp, a chest of drawers that looked at least fifty years old, and a small bookshelf under the window. Under normal circumstances, it might have made her feel claustrophobic. Instead, she was hugely relieved at the idea of having her own private space.
Allison stepped out and grabbed the doorknob. “How about I close this?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
When the door shut, the noise level in the room dropped dramatically. She could still hear conversations, movement in the hall, the sound of the shower running in a nearby bathroom. She hadn’t expected to be so rattled, but between her nerves about her relationship with Josh and the sheer number of new people she’d just met, she felt drained and dreading any further interactions.
Unfortunately, Josh had made it clear that dinnertime was an important ritual for the Farris family. Anyone who was around was expected to be there, unless they had a very good reason for their absence.
Hope didn’t think “incipient panic attack because of too many damn people” would count as a good reason.
Her suitcase stood in a corner by the chest of drawers. She spent ten minutes unpacking, putting jeans and shirts and underwear into the drawers, trying to feel a little more at home. When she cautiously poked her head out the door, the door to the bathroom across the hall stood open. She decided to get while the getting was good, striding across the hall to claim it before anyone else came along. She checked her makeup, brushed her hair, and took a few final deep breaths.
I can do this, she told herself. I’ve traveled to China by myself and coped with Sochi during the Olympics. I can handle a family of horse shifters who may possibly be out for my blood. Metaphorically.
The kitchen was
largely empty except for Rick and a couple of helpers. He caught sight of her from where he stood presiding over the stove, and she stepped over to him and peered to see what he had simmering in the two large stock pots.