A lump of juicy chicken that I was working on swallowing suddenly goes dry and sticks in my throat. I cough and try to get it down.
Big Tom looks between us all, lets out a long sigh and sets down his silverware. He frowns at us, then says chidingly in a deep, deep voice, “Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive. A Palmer too! No wonder why I felt rebuked beneath his eye.”
Someone drops their silverware. I hear it clatter against a plate. Big Tom spoke. He spoke in rhyme, in a booming, deep voice, and he’s…
“You’re Scottish?” Diedre glares at him. “What the heck? How are you Scottish?”
Gavin lifts his eyebrows and gives me a look. I shrug. I didn’t know. I’ve never heard Tom speak. He’s got a Scottish burr a mile wide though.
Big Tom shifts uncomfortably on the picnic bench and frowns down at his plate.
“You are so odd.” Diedre smacks at a fly buzzing over her chicken and scowls at Tom.
“What’s Scottish?” Tanner asks, finally grabbing the cornbread.
Gavin leans forward and ruffles his hair. “It’s a country. Scotland. They’ve got great mountains there, the Munros. There are two hundred and eighty-two of them, the highest is Ben Nevis and if you climb them all it’s called bagging the Munros.”
When he’s done talking, his eyes go wide and he turns to me with a confused, stunned expression. “How do I know that?”
I bite my tongue. “Umm.” Think…think…think.
A strange light enters his eyes. “Name another country.”
Elijah bounces on his seat. “New Zealand!”
Gavin looks up at the sky and then snaps his fingers. “It has the world’s highest cliff jump, in Queenstown.”
Big Tom grunts in appreciation.
Diedre’s eyes light up. “How about Bali?”
Gavin grins at her, like a kid who has just learned how to whistle and thinks it’s the neatest trick in the world.
“They have great diving, like the wreck of the USAT Liberty and the coral garden. Ask another.”
“Cambodia,” Big Tom says, and for a man who never talks, he sure has chosen the worst things to say and the worst day to say them.
Gavin’s hand brushes over my thigh, making my blood feel warm and viscous, like the sugary, sweet syrup of the chess pie. He grins at me.
“Easy. There’s the Tonlé San River, a tributary of the Mekong.”
I swallow painfully, thinking about the first email he sent, asking me to create a glass wave the color of the sky filtering through jungle leaves, falling on the Tonlé San River. Then I remember the cerulean glass, shattered around my feet.
“There are ancient lava fields that cooled in sloping rivulets and honeycombed footpaths crisscrossing the jungle. You can sail down the river toward Laos and stop at a temple along the way. There are fisherman pulling up nets alongside their small boats, mountains in the distance, sand bars to swim at, and food stands along the bank that smell like stir-fried rice noodles, spring onions, chives, and fresh fish.” The hypnotic rhythm of his voice makes me feel like I’m in Cambodia with him, sailing down the river too. “The sky is lapis lazuli blue, and the clouds reflect on the water. I…” He stops, stares at me. “How do I know that?”
I blink, Gavin watches me, his brow furrowed. “You, uh…” I lick my dry lips. “You do the crosswords, remember? They’ve got all sorts of trivia. And you like to watch documentaries and read and learn about faraway places.” I shrug. “You always have done.”
He frowns at this, but then Elijah tugs on his sleeve. “Someday can we go there? Can we sail that river, can we go snorkeling, and climb mountains in Scotland? Can we do that?”
“Meow, meow!” Shay says through a mouthful of chicken.
Gavin looks at the kids, their hopeful faces, and then he looks at the yard, the house and the rickety porch, the run-down station wagon, then he smiles at the kids.
“We could…but why would we want to go anywhere when we already live in the most beautiful place in the world? The only thing traveling can do is make you see how much you love home. But we already know that, don’t we?”
He squeezes my thigh, and at those words, I realize that I’m fighting a losing battle. Because while I thought he was seeing the wear and tear and the drab ugliness that he’d said the mountain was before, he was actually looking around seeing someplace he loves.
“Well. Who’s for pie?” Granny claps her hands together and I jump.