Family Ties

“No problem. I like you, especially since Birdy’s a lot happier now.

Laurence’s death really hit her hard. It hit us all, but he was her favorite.

Mom and Dad’s too, if you get right down to it. Hell, we all loved him. He was the best of us.”

“Only the good die young.”

“You got that right.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, Birdy’s a lot happier than I’ve seen her in years. Sabrina thinks so too. And if you’re the reason…” He smiled and spread his hands.

“Let’s hope I’m the reason.”

“I think you’re solid.” He laughed and opened the screen door.

The house was dark and quiet, so I decided to enjoy a hot shower while I could. Danny grabbed his toiletry kit and headed toward another of the house’s four bathrooms.

Anne was in the kitchen when I returned wearing only a towel around my waist.

“Uh, sorry,” I said lamely.

“You’re fine,” she said with a smile. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thanks. Woke up early, though.”

“You’re still on Eastern time.”

“Yeah. Danny too. So we went for a run and then watched the sunrise.”

She was about to say something else when the pre-teen girls streamed into the kitchen, all still in their pajamas. None of them seemed the least bit bothered at how I was dressed.

“Good morning, Grandma,” Virginia said. “Can we help with breakfast?”

“Of course, dears!” Anne gave me a smile and turned her attention to the girls. “I know… let’s make cinnamon rolls.” She gathered them at the counter and started taking down ingredients.

I went out to the porch and made up my cot. Danny returned from his own shower, and I asked about the dress code.

“We’re pretty laid-back,” he said. “Jeans are fine. Chinos. Whatever.”

He was in a good mood after his run, so he told me about his plan to ask Sabrina to marry him. He was so naturally likable that I found myself getting excited too.

We eventually decided to head inside, where we discovered a whirlwind of food and family. In addition to the cinnamon rolls, the girls were making fresh orange juice, a couple of pounds of sausage, and a huge hash brown casserole. Anne was directing it all, with Christy and Sabrina helping the younger girls, while Lynne was busy with a skillet of scrambled eggs.

I asked what I could help with, but Anne told me to go into the dining room. Harold was there with coffee and the newspaper. He was wearing pinstriped pajamas under a navy blue robe with “Granddad” embroidered in gold thread on the breast.

“Morning, Pop,” Danny said.

“Morning, Danny.” He glanced over his reading glasses at me. “Morning, Paul. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, sir. Thanks.”

“Good to hear. Coffee’s on the buffet,” he said with a nod.

Danny picked up a cup and saucer and held them out to me.

“No thanks.” I sat down and tried not to fidget with nothing to do.

Harold noticed out of the corner of his eye. He folded the main section of his newspaper and slid it across to me. Then he found the sports pages and pulled them out.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome. And you can probably dispense with the ‘sirs.’ You made your point.”

Danny grinned at me and sat down with his coffee.

“Navy plays Army tomorrow at the Rose Bowl,” Harold said as he opened the sports section. “Are you a football fan?”

We made small talk until Sabrina brought in glasses of orange juice. Jim joined us a minute later. Rich and Terry arrived as well, fresh from the shower.

I felt a bit guilty that the women were all working in the kitchen and we were relaxing with coffee, juice, and the newspaper. A snarky part of me wondered if women’s lib had bypassed the Carmichael clan, but I kept my mouth shut.

Virginia and Amber trooped in with platters of food, followed by the other girls and two boys I hadn’t met yet. The younger boy, John, hopped into Harold’s lap. His older brother, Steven, set down a tray of sausage and returned to the kitchen.

The women joined us a minute later with the rest of breakfast. The dining room table could seat twelve, but the older girls and Steven headed back to the kitchen and the table there. Grace climbed into her father’s lap. She was seven but looked younger because she was so small.

Christy leaned toward me. “My mom says she looks just like me when I was her age.”

“I can imagine.”

We passed plates and loaded them from whatever platter was nearest. The conversation picked up as we began eating.

The stereotype in my head was that the Admiral would run breakfast like a staff meeting, asking individual family members for reports or situation updates. The reality was far more endearing.

Harold pushed his scrambled eggs and hash browns into small mounds and cut up several sausage links. Then he made a game of feeding his grandson by racing the sausage pieces through the valleys and over the mounds. Sometimes the sausage-racer “crashed,” so they had to demolish a mound and eat it too.

Anne, Lynne, and Sabrina discussed the menu for Thanksgiving dinner.