AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Part of him wanted to argue more, but he chose instead to let it go. He kissed his sister's forehead and stepped back, taking his phone from his pocket. A minute later, he'd texted Jewell and asked her to come back for him. He still had a niggling sensation of doubt when he walked down the hall and pulled a jacket from the front closet, but he pushed it down and shoved it away before he shut the door.
* * *
Benjamin and Jewell came together at the hood of her car and joined hands. "I warn you. Chaos reigns in the Kincaid household," Jewell said, smiling up at him.
"Somehow that sounds strangely appealing."
Jewell's smile widened. She linked her fingers through his and they walked together to the door of the large farmhouse.
The substantial home was painted pale yellow with cream trim and a deep farmer's porch encompassed three sides, with a closed ceiling and large pillars supporting the roof. Along the outside of the porch were the brown skeletons of many shrubs and bushes, now bare with the approach of winter. Benjamin guessed the house to be at least a century old. The home had been well maintained but retained its old-fashioned appeal. Shutters framed each window, and the detail committed to the wood cornices and eaves was a testament to the builders. Benjamin sensed warmth, family, and an invitation to enter. All things he never felt in the Roth mausoleum in Hartford.
They ascended the four wooden steps to the interior of the porch. Beside the door sat two wicker chairs with a wrought iron table between them. Further down the porch, a two-person swing hung from chains anchored in the beams above it. A pink and black soccer ball hid partially beneath one of the chairs. The wood was littered with brown, crisp leaves from the surrounding trees, and a jack-o-lantern in preparation for Halloween sat on the other side of the door.
The interior door was open and Benjamin looked through the screen into the foyer beyond it. Benjamin inhaled the appetizing aroma of vanilla, nutmeg, and cinnamon drifted to them through the mesh.
Jewell pulled open the wood-frame door and cupped her palm around her mouth to call out as they entered the house, and within seconds Jewell's father came down the hall to meet them. Cecil Kincaid was a big man, with broad shoulders and thick, white hair. An old-fashioned cardigan sweater with leather buttons did little to disguise the substantial size of the man. He raised his hand in greeting and pulled Jewell into a devouring hug. After kissing her temple, he extended his hand to Benjamin for a hearty shake.
"Daddy, this is Benjamin Roth."
"Good to meet you, Benjamin," he signed once he withdrew his hand. His signs were fluid and casual, clearly well practiced, but his slightly gnarled fingers showed signs of arthritis and age. "Jewell has spoken of you. We're happy to have you here."
Benjamin slid a glance at Jewell, smiling at the blush in her cheeks at her father's confession. "It's nice to be here, sir."
Jewell's father waved his hand. "Please, call me Cecil.” He spelled his name and offered a simple sign to represent it. “We aren't much for formality in this house."
"Where is Mama?" Jewell asked.
Cecil Kincaid indicated the room at the end of the hall he had just exited. "In the kitchen. She's preparing the pumpkin for the pie. I've been instructed to go out to the apple tree and see what I can bring her for apple brownies."
Jewell took Benjamin's hand and led him towards the source of the aromas making his mouth water and his stomach grumble. "My mother doesn't speak or read lips. I just wanted you to know."
Benjamin nodded and followed her down the hall that was wallpapered with an old-fashioned toile print of covered bridge sketches on a pale tan background. He felt like he had stepped back in time. The furnishings were antiques, and the interior itself stayed true to the original style wherever it could. Even the light switches on the wall were push-button rather than toggle. Substantial crown molding hugged the ceiling, and thick baseboards sat along the wall. Half a dozen generations had occupied this house, easily. Benjamin could almost sense the decades of life. It was pleasant and so in contrast to what he understood.
He looked back to Jewell. For a moment, he felt embarrassed that she caught him in his musings. She tugged gently on his hand again and urged him toward the kitchen door. Motion beyond the doorway caught his attention before they stepped inside, a flurry of activity in the form of a little blond girl wearing a fairy costume.
They entered the kitchen to find Jewell's mother and little sister where they stood at the counter. Pearl was busy forming raw crust into a deep stoneware pie plate. The edges were uneven, and probably thicker in some spots, but the six-year-old worked at it in deep concentration, her tiny tongue sticking out one side of her lips. Opal Kincaid stirred a large bowl of pumpkin puree. Pearl looked up from her task and a wide smile lit up her fair face. She jumped down from the stool she stood on, ran to her sister, and threw her arms around Jewell's waist.
Opal turned at Pearl's motion and smiled. Everyone in this house smiled. The notion made Benjamin smile wider. Jewell said chaos ruled here, but that wasn't what Benjamin saw. He saw life, in its most pleasant form, and a family living it. Jewell's mother wiped her hands on a towel before hugging her daughter. The slight woman only reached mid-chest to Jewell. Jewell introduced him to her mother as she had her father.
"Cecil and I were very happy to hear you would be coming back with Jewell," Opal told him as she turned away from her daughters. Her hands moved with the gracefulness of small birds, fluttering and dancing in the air in delicate choreography.
Nearly every book Benjamin had ever read eventually described the way a person spoke—the timbre and tone of their voice, soft or harsh, grating or soothing. He wondered if the hearing world could understand the subtle intricacies he saw in the motion and play of hands in silent speech. Benjamin took the small woman's hand and kissed the knuckles, having to bend slightly to be able to reach her. She was such a dainty woman. He didn't recall ever seeing such a whimsical lady.
"I'm happy to be here, Mrs. Kincaid."
Opal held his hand and patted it with the other. She stepped back and wiped her hands again before continuing to sign. Like “her husband, Mrs. Kincaid offered her name sign. ”Please call me Opal. I'm sure my husband told you we don't stand on formality in this house. There's too much dust, clutter, and chaos for formality. Come and sit."
Jewell squeezed his fingers and they went to the table, hand in hand, to sit down. Pearl jumped back on her stool and continued with her crust dough. Cecil came back in with a dozen apples held in the bottom half of his cardigan sweater, followed by a man about Benjamin's age with curly black hair, his arms full of fruit. Jewell touched Benjamin's wrist to draw his attention for a moment and quickly signed that the other man was her brother Garnett. Mr. Kincaid touched his wife's arm as he passed her and she pointed to the table. Both Benjamin and Jewell scurried to keep the freshly picked fruit from rolling to the floor as her father unceremoniously dumped them out.
Benjamin laughed as half a dozen apples escaped their attempts and rolled across the hardwood floor. Ruby showed up in the doorway leading to a part of the house he hadn't seen yet and bent to snag an apple as it rolled past her. In a fluid motion, she stood, waved at Benjamin, and bit into the fresh apple.
Opal set a glass bowl and a small paring knife down in front of Benjamin.
"Have you ever peeled apples before, Benjamin?"
"Yes, ma'am."
She patted his shoulder and smiled. "Be careful not to cut yourself."
