Return of the Aunts

Always they descended in a pair, flinging open the front door. Auntie Rachel and Auntie Cordelia arrived in a clamor, saying hello as they clunked too many suitcases on the hall floor, and the dogs howled. Auntie Cordelia headed for the kitchen, where Mother stood speechless, holding a wooden spoon. “Cordelia,” Mother’s voice quivered, and the spoon hit the counter.

“We’re here, Mary Jane. You sit right down and rest them feet. What you got cooking—baked beans? Let’s spice them up a bit.” Soon, horribly strong odors colored the air. Auntie Rachel commenced to dusting—everything wood and some things that weren’t. You daren’t sit still too long when Auntie Rachel flung her cloth. Dad heard the ruckus and snuck in the back door, creaking up the stairwell but not quick enough.

“Robert,” Cordelia crooned. “Come and taste these beans, and see if I’ve got enough flavor.”

“How long are you staying?” Mother asked, her voice still shaky.

“Oh, maybe a fortnight. Ha! I’ve always wanted to say fortnight, ever since we traveled to England.”

However, it turned out the aunts didn’t stay long, once my brother, Caleb, and I decided to act. At dinner, Caleb told about the pheasant he had hanging in the barn and how he’d skin it for dinner tomorrow.

Mother seemed to catch on and pondered which pot would be big enough. Auntie Rachel attempted to eat her Brussels sprouts, but imagination took over and she fled the table. Cordelia went pale. “You expect me to cook wild animals?”

“Oh, yes,” Caleb said proudly. “How you gonna fix them, Auntie Cordelia? I’m sure Mother would be overjoyed to find you a recipe.”

The aunts left before dessert. We could hear banging suitcases in the spare room; they didn’t even mess up the comforter on the bed with sleeping. Caleb got a big dish of ice cream with chocolate sauce and whipped cream as the door slammed behind the aunts.