Salad, Sandwiches, Dainties and Punch

Chapter 15

Dottie was running out of room for meat trays.  People were coming out to the farm in waves and Dottie and the family implored everyone to come in for coffee or tea and of course cold cuts.  Darren's wife had been such a huge help organizing the incoming food into freezers and fridges like a Tetris master.  The boys, Darren and Sean, were keeping vigil in the shop as the men tended not to come into the house. 

She knew accepting visitors was part of the process, but she was wiped.  "Morgan, can you put a fresh pot of coffee on," she called over her shoulder as she fell into her favourite chair.  Morgan's head popped around the corner, "You know you could probably squeeze a nap in if you wanted to close your eyes for a bit.  It's closing in on supper so I doubt anyone will be by for the next bit."  Dottie knew her daughter in law was probably right, but sleep hadn't been coming easily to her. 

"My body is tired, but my mind isn't yet," Dottie stayed in her chair, "Maybe forget the coffee do we have chamomile tea?"  Morgan's head disappeared and Dottie reached down into the basket beside her chair.  Her sudoku book, a novel, a crochet project, and a pair of Art's socks she was darning.  "Perfect,  I'll just finish these up and be done with them then," she said as she set to work.  Art would never wear the socks, not even at his funeral. 

An open casket would be impossible due to the trauma from the impact of the crash.  The autopsy would further complicate the matter.  It wasn't what they wanted, but after much discussion with the boys they decided that cremation was their best option.  Dottie worried about what people would say.  Her eyes filled up with tears as she worked on the socks but just let the tears slip down her face.  She didn't have any makeup on to be worried about.

Morgan came in carrying a tea for both of them.  Dottie quickly brushed the last of the tears away and hunched over her project so Morgan didn't have a direct line of sight of her face.  Morgan was good at reading the room so she said nothing.  She sat on the love seat perpendicular to Dottie's chair and was able to reach into the basket to find something to busy her hands with too.  "I saved you the crosswords," Dottie used her chin to point to a pile of papers on the tv stand.  "I know you like the crosswords," she said working the socks in her hands the whole time. 

"Ya I do, thanks," Morgan pulled the papers into her lap and began to silently go through the clues.  Forty minutes of silence and hyper focus on thee tasks at hand passed between them.  Suddenly Dottie stood up.  "All done," she said folding the newly darned socks that would never be worn again neatly.  "I'm gonna go put these away."  Dottie nodded at Morgan and Morgan nodded back knowing that Dottie was finally ready to sleep. 

As Dottie went back to her bedroom Morgan waited for the sound of a closing door.  "Good," Morgan thought.  She was glad the tea helped.  She put down her crossword which she had been stuck on for the last twenty minutes anyways to collect their mugs to take back for the sink.  She grabbed Dottie's which was still full and now ice cold.  Dottie had worked feverishly on her project while Morgan had worked on and sometimes just stared at her crossword.  Morgan didn't know what Dottie had been working on, but whatever it was it must have been important. 

She washed the mugs in the sink and drying them while watching out the kitchen window.  Darren was crushed by the news.  Morgan felt like he'd gone though all the stages of grief in a matter of minutes.  His death was shocking, no one could deny that, but Darren was mad at his dad for still flying that plane, mad at the town for expecting a fly over for a stupid ball game, and then the crippling sadness set in when they came home from the hospital. 

She saw them walking toward the house and waited by the door for them to usher them in without much noise.  Morgan wanted Dottie to rest and if her boys came through the door in a clamour she'd be out her in the blink of an eye catering to them like they were 7 and 9 again.  "Shhhh come in come in, your mom's sleeping I hope.  Let her sleep."  Morgan realized she was using a tone she would also use on 7 and 9 year olds.

"What's for supper?" Sean asked.  Just like a single guy like that to expect everyone else has been rushing around making sure his needs were met.  "Pick a tray.  Any tray."  Morgan opened the fridge door and did her best imitation of Vanna White.  "Looks like we're gonna be eating off trays for awhile," Darren chuckled as he carefully slid one out.  Taking the plastic lid off set off a series of sounds as loud as gunshots and Morgan cringed hoping Dottie wouldn't run out to 'help' but all was quiet.  It seemed like Dottie was finally getting some rest.