Page 119 of Heartland

Dylan

You’d thinkthat a major fight with my brother and a major life decision would leave a guy stressed out and broody.

But it doesn’t. As the house begins to fill with people, I feel more peaceful than I have in a long time. That’s just how I roll. I’m sitting on a kitchen stool with Rickie when my sister May and her boyfriend Alec come through the door.

“Hey, Dyl!” May says cheerily. “Who’s your friend?”

I introduce her to Rickie and accept a glass of beer that Alec has brought over. “Try this, would you? It’s my oatmeal stout.”

“Youmadeit?” Rickie yelps. “No way. I knew this family was cool.”

Alec gives us each a pint and a fist bump. And my night is shaping up.

Then the Abrahams come through the door—Isaac, Leah, Maeve, and Chastity, in that order. Rickie and I greet them all, of course. “Hey, Chass,” I say, as friends do. “Happy Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” she says, but her face is like a stone. She passes by us as quickly as possible, carrying Leah’s giant potato casserole into the dining room as if she’s in a big hurry.

Okay. Well. I guess she plans on taking this “just friends” thing to the next level. It’s a little weird. But I can take it.

“Dylan, carry the vegetables to the table,” my mom says, hurrying into the room. “I’m going to carve the ham now.”

“Sure, Ma.” I take one more gulp of my beer.

“Can I help?” Rickie asks.

“If you want. But I’ve got this.” I pick up a giant bowl of roasted Brussels sprouts. “Hey, Audrey!” I call to my sister-in-law. “Is there bacon in this?”

“Omigod, it’s like you’renewhere,” she scoffs, the baby on her hip. “Of course there is.”

Rickie takes the bowl out of my hands. “I’ll carry that. I don’t want to let it out of my sight.”

“Wait up, boy,” Grandpa says, trailing behind Rickie. “I got dibs.”

“Here, I have a different job for you. Hold this.” Audrey passes me ten-month-old baby Gus. “If you put him down, just know that he can crawl out of sight faster than Grandpa can get at a dessert table.”

“Noted.”

“And he will try to grab your beer,” she says at exactly the moment Gus does this very thing.

“You are a wily little fox, aren’t you?” I ask my nephew as I move the beer out of his reach.

“Oopa,” he says. “Bappa.”

I have to smile, because Gus is a cute little beast. And his daddy hasn’t taught him how to criticize me yet. So that’s something.

Speak of the devil. The back door flies open and Griffin steps inside. The lower half of him iscoatedwith mud. “I got it out and put it away,” he says to me.

My mother makes a noise of dismay. “I don’t even want to know what you’re talking about. Drop those jeans and throw them on the laundry room floor. You have two minutes to clean yourself up and get to the dining room table.”

“Oopa!” Gus shouts as his father disappears toward the laundry.

“Oh, he’ll be back,” I tell him. “Although his wardrobe choices are limited.” I carry Gus into the dining room, where the table has been extended to its full holiday size. It’s practically sagging under the weight of so much food. There’s deviled eggs, apple chutney, Leah’s decadent cheesy potatoes cooked in duck fat, the sprouts and bacon, polenta, and green beans with almonds.

I take the seat that Rickie has saved me. Gus gets a look at the table and lets out a shriek of excitement. He is a Shipley after all. The boy likes his food.

Even though it’s a crime to serve anything before grace has been said, I grab the spoon in Leah’s potato dish and scoop a small portion onto my plate. “Have at it, man. This is what happens when a potato dies and goes to heaven.”

Gus doesn’t need instructions. He uses two of his short little fingers to pluck a gooey bit of potato off the plate and shove it in his mouth.