Packing Lunches Part 1

From The Pilot:

Hannah: School? When do you have the time?

Ford: We're just out to bring down the cows. We do that every year.

Their Sunday night supper after the county fair was a meal of celebration.

Brian had made fried chicken which was actually very good. Since he had stopped glaring at her every time she walked near him, Hannah had offered to help with the meal and so they had mashed potatoes with a good gravy, Cole slaw, the last of the fresh green peas from the garden and both pie and cake for dessert. Hannah had privately thought that was too much food – they had, after all, eaten lunch at the fairgrounds along with candy apples and cotton candy and peanuts when they weren't competing in the events or fighting with Wheeler and his men. Guthrie had even eaten all those pies. But her new family ate everything on the table. Come to think of it, were some of the napkins missing too? Was she ever going to get used to these guys?

Adam forked the last bite of the chocolate cake into his mouth and refilled his coffee cup. With a groan, he sat back in his chair. "That was a fine meal!"

Brian, rather surprisingly, flashed a small smile in Hannah's direction. "Thank Hannah. I just fried the chicken. She did the rest of it."

"Is there more pie?" Guthrie asked eagerly, looking around.

Daniel mussed his hair. "Aren't you sick it pie yet? How many did you end up eating in the contest?"

Guthrie shrugged. "More than the other guys did."

Adam laughed. "Good thing." His face was happy and relaxed; Hannah wasn't sure she'd ever seen him this way. "Our new bull is happily settled in the corral and tomorrow he can start meeting the cows."

"I think we should guard the barn tonight," Brian stated. "Wheeler might come after him like he did the other one."

Crane shook his head. "I don't think so. It'd be too obvious. Wheeler is a lot of things but stupid isn't one of them."

"Maybe so. But I think I'll bed down in the tack room anyway." Brian held up a hand when Crane opened his mouth. "You're probably right, okay? But I don't think I'll be able to sleep up here anyway."

"You'd better get some sleep, anyway," Adam said. "Tomorrow will be a busy day. And it's back to school for you guys."

This remark elicited groans from Daniel and Evan and a happy grin from Ford. Guthrie didn't say anything, his mouth full of the last piece of pie Daniel had slid in front of him.

"Come on, Adam, let's take tomorrow off too," Daniel coaxed. "One more day, what could it hurt?"

"Your grade point average, among other things," Adam said. He shook his head. "Don't give me a hard time, Daniel. You know the rules."

Daniel let out a huge sigh and slumped back in his chair. "It's not like I need school for anything, anyway…"

His three older brothers just stared at him. Hannah had the feeling this was just the latest rendition of an old argument.

Evan stood up. "Guess I better go do my homework," he grumped.

Adam rolled his eyes. "See you left it until the last minute again. What is it this time? Please, not another five page report on a book you haven't even read yet!"

"Nah, just math. I can do it in my sleep."

"Well, given your last report card, how about you try doing it awake instead?" Crane said, standing up in turn and starting to clear away the dishes. "I'll pack lunches. Guthrie, you're on drying duty tonight."

Ford jumped to his feet. "First dibs on the shower," he yelled, running toward the stairs.

Daniel groaned again as he started to stand. "Guess I have homework too."

Hannah just sat there feeling left out and alone. She'd thought, after this weekend and everything that had gone down at the fair that she was fitting in with this new family of hers. But they all seemed to have assigned roles to play that she knew nothing about.

Brian dropped his head into his hands. "I don't suppose there's any chance any of you have clean clothes for tomorrow?"

Guthrie managed to swallow the last bite without choking himself and he answered, "Hannah did laundry. All week!"

Brian looked up at her. "You did?"

"Well, yes," she admitted. The sight and smell of that overflowing laundry room had nearly overwhelmed her.

"That's who used all the laundry soap!" Brian announced, as if he'd just solved the mystery of Amelia Earhart's last flight. Before Hannah could be offended, he flashed a wide smile at her. "Thanks," he said, in probably the most sincere voice she'd heard from him all week.

"You're welcome," she murmured, flushing. She felt a little better.

"Well, since Hannah took care of the clothes, I'll head on down to the barn and check on the stock," Brian said, rising. He looked at Adam. "You coming?"

Adam drained the last of the coffee in his cup and stood. "Just let me kiss my beautiful wife," he said, suiting action to the words.

"Crane, cover Guthrie's eyes. We don't want the baby exposed to this wanton affection," Brian teased. Hannah could tell he was teasing, and in a good natured way, and that cheered her up some more. She clung tightly to Adam before making herself let him go.

Left alone, she tried to figure out what to do, where she could fit in to this apparent routine. Finally she drifted toward the sink. Crane was scraping plates into the trash and steamy water was rushing into one side of the sink. Guthrie squirted soap into the water and flicked his fingers into the resulting bubbles.

"I'll wash," she quickly told Guthrie.

Crane turned toward her. "You don't have to," he said, uncertainly. "You cooked."

"Family rule," Guthrie chimed in, although he was already handing her a sponge. "The cook never has to wash."

Hannah smiled. "Where did that rule come from? And besides, Brian fried the chicken, I just helped with the side dishes."

"Well, to be honest, Brian made up that rule because he hates to wash dishes," Crane smirked. "So if you don't mind, thanks. And I'll figure out lunches for tomorrow." He gleefully pointed to the maybe two spoonful's worth of potatoes left in the bowl. "That takes care of Guthrie."

Hannah didn't know what he was talking about and watched politely as Crane pulled out bread, mayonnaise and an onion, plus a big jar of dill pickles and arranged all of it on the counter. He spread mayonnaise on two slices of bread and then placed the cold mashed potatoes on one slice. Her eyes widened as he shook black pepper on top of the potatoes, then sliced onions and pickles and arranged them on the other piece of bread. Surveying his creation, he flashed a grin at Guthrie before wrapping the sandwich in Saran wrap.

"You're going to eat that for lunch?" she managed to ask Guthrie, trying not to gag.

He nodded enthusiastically. "Crane makes them the best. Brian doesn't put on enough pepper and Adam always forgets the onions."

"Okay," Hannah replied faintly. She really couldn't imagine any circumstances that she'd be able to choke down a potato, onion and pickle sandwich without vomiting, much less look as enthused as Guthrie did about it.

She noticed Crane was watching her. She couldn't read the look on his face but she was too afraid he could read hers.

Crane pulled out a stash of small brown paper bags from the pantry. "Hey, Guth. Why don't you go down to the cellar and get some apples? We don't have any up here. Think Hannah used them all up in that pie she made."

"Okay!" Guthrie said cheerfully, heading for the back door.

Crane waited until his younger brother was gone before he said, "I know it's not the most nutritious lunch but –"

Hannah held up a hand. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be critical. I just…cold mashed potatoes?"

Crane smiled sadly. "There was a time when cold mashed potatoes might be all we had for lunch. Guthrie grew up on them. He loves them. So does Ford. The younger ones are pretty easy, they'll eat almost anything. So will Evan. Daniel's a little picky, but not much."

"Doesn't the school have a hot lunch program?"

Crane's faced changed. He sighed. "Well, the grade school does, yeah. The problem would be getting him to eat it." He shrugged, heading back to the refrigerator and opening the door, perusing the shelves. His voice was muffled as he went on, "Most of the people around here are friends, a lot of them helped out after our parents… died. But some folks – a teacher teased Guthrie about it a while back. Back when he was little, second grade I think. We never did find out what exactly he said but it really upset Guthrie. Ford, Evan and Daniel were all still in the same school then and they all flatly refused to eat the school lunches anymore. And the high school doesn't have a hot lunch program, so –" he shrugged.

Hannah didn't know what to say and then Guthrie came back in the room with a half dozen apples that he lined up in front of Crane before returning to her side and picking up the towel. He'd obviously heard part of the conversation because he said, "Those school lunches are awful anyway."

Hannah thought back to when she was in school. She remembered one lunchtime when she was very small and the cafeteria had served liver and spinach and green beans all in the same meal. Apparently the day the students were supposed to get their iron quotient for the entire week. The liver had been undercooked and bloody and she'd ended up getting sick in the water fountain because the teacher on duty wouldn't let her go to the bathroom. After that she, too, had carried a sack lunch. But she'd never had cold potato sandwiches in her lunches. Usually hers had been bologna or tuna sandwiches and sometimes soup in a thermos.

The room was quiet as she washed dishes and Crane scrabbled to fix four lunches. Guthrie – who she noted during the last week basically had two speeds, full throttle and full stop – was repeatedly yawning as he dried dishes. Glancing at the clock, Hannah was surprised to realize it was well after nine. They hadn't come home from the fairgrounds until evening and supper had been much later than usual.

Crane assembled two cheese sandwiches with lettuce and thick slices of tomato, cucumber and onion. Or maybe they were tomato, cucumber and onion sandwiches with a thin slice of cheese. He put these into brown paper bags with apples and some ginger cookies from the old stoneware cookie jar. Hannah didn't protest, even though she'd tried one of those cookies earlier and had practically broken a tooth.

With three lunches done, Crane seemed at a loss what to do about the fourth. He rummaged around the refrigerator again, although Hannah could have told him it was pretty empty. He finally backed out with two small eggs in his hand and took the saucepan that Guthrie was drying from him. "I guess Daniel is going to get egg salad," he said, running water into the saucepan.

"Yuck!" Guthrie exclaimed.

"You don't like egg salad?" Hannah asked, surprised. Hadn't Crane just said Guthrie would eat anything?

The youngest McFadden shook his head. "Not in a sandwich. Don't like the way it feels in my mouth."

"The texture," Crane added.

Hanna couldn't quite follow the logic of this, given that Guthrie apparently ate – and enjoyed! – sandwiches made of cold lumpy mashed potatoes.

Ford came down the back stairs then, his hair damp from his shower and wearing pajamas. Apparently he and Guthrie were the only two brothers who actually owned a pair of pajamas – everyone else seemed to sleep in some variety of the t-shirt/boxers/sweat pants apparel. He took the towel from Guthrie and a plate from Hannah. "Go on upstairs and get your shower while Evan and Daniel are still doing homework," he told his younger brother. Guthrie nodded, yawning again, and trudged away mumbling something that could have been "Good night."

"How're they doing on their homework?" Crane asked Ford as he set a timer for the eggs.

"Evan's got five more Algebra problems," Evan's roommate answered. "And I don't know about Daniel. He's reading something, his Government book, I think."

"Did you have homework?" Hannah thought to ask. "Does Guthrie?"

Ford smiled at her. "I'm already done. Guthrie is, too."

Crane laughed. "We have two kinds of students in this house, Hannah."

"The Adams and the Brians," Ford chimed in.

"What does that mean?"

"Adams do all their homework as soon as they get home, or at least that first night," Crane said. "Brians, on the other hand, wait until the last possible minute and then scramble around trying to get it done."

From his tone, Hannah could guess which philosophy he went with. Ford confirmed that. "Adam, Crane, Guthrie and I are Adams."

"And the others aren't," Crane finished, picking pieces of shell off the boiled eggs.

"Even though we've tried to convince them of the error of their ways," Adam said from the doorway.

Crane starting mashing the eggs in a bowl. "Some people just can't learn," he intoned in mock-seriousness.

Hannah smiled at his comment as she handed the last of the silverware to Ford to dry. She dried her hands and slipped into her husband's welcoming arms.

7Bf7B

Hannah thought about those lunches the next day. Morning was chaos – she now understood why some of the brothers showered in the mornings and others in the evenings – but somehow Daniel, Evan and Ford got out of the house and down the long driveway in time to catch their bus to the high school in Angels Camp. Thirty minutes later, Guthrie gulped the last of his orange juice, grabbed his jacket and books, yelled, "Bye!" and ran down the front porch steps to slide into a station wagon that had pulled up in front.

"I thought he rode the bus," Hannah said.

"He rides home on it," Crane informed her, piling dishes into the sink. "They changed the routes this year. The elementary school bus comes around here before seven. So Carey Barrett picks him up an hour later and takes him to school with her daughter Jenny."

"Carey Barrett?"

"Tom and Carey Barrett are old friends of the family. Tom and our dad were in business together back when Brian and I were little. You'll meet them," Adam said, shrugging on his jacket. Then he was kissing her and he and Brian and Crane were going out the back door into the damp morning.

Hannah found herself – for the first time since her marriage – alone in the big farmhouse. "I guess last week was the honeymoon," she said to herself as she looked around the kitchen.

She remembered the first time she'd seen the house, when they'd driven up in front of it and she'd commented to Adam "That's such a big place for the two of us!" Of course, it wasn't just the two of them and during the last week she'd thought sometimes the roof was going to fly off or the walls bulge out with all the people crammed inside. Now that she was alone, it again reverted back to being huge and echoing with silence.

She started to gather the dishes, then turned around when she heard the door open. Brian stepped in, glancing around at the mess.

"You don't have to clean it up," he said. "Crane or I'll come in at lunch and do it. We didn't mean to make you think you had to."

"It's okay," Hannah replied. She smiled. "It's not like I'm doing anything else."

Brian dropped his gaze. "You've done a lot," he said, looking at the floor. "The house looks great, and all the laundry – you must think we're all a bunch of pigs."

Hannah was startled by his statement. "No! I mean…" She took a breath, carefully picking her words. She didn't want to do anything that might fracture this tentative peace the two of them seemed to be reaching. "I think you all have your hands full. I'm a part of this family now, I want to do my part. If that means doing the dishes while the younger boys are in school and you guys are out on the ranch, that's fine."

"Well, if you don't mind… could… would you like to go into town and do some shopping?" He met her gaze with a quick, abashed smile. "We never did get what we went into town for last week when I mixed it up with Wheeler's boys." He moved toward the refrigerator and pulled a scribbled over piece of paper from under a magnet. "Here's the list, and anything you want to get… we have an account at the general store." He handed her the paper and the keys to the truck.

Hannah was pleased to be asked. "Sure. I can do that."

"Do you like to cook?"

"Yes, actually, I do."

Awkward silence. Brian rubbed the back of his neck and blew air out of his cheeks in a whoosh. "Well, I mean if you want to… Adam and I'll probably be up in the north pasture until dark. If you wanted to cook supper… that would be nice. Only if you want to, though."

Hannah recognized the olive branch he was holding out. Brian had been the most difficult of the brothers for her to read in the week she'd been here. He hadn't been overtly rude – well at least not since the first evening – but he sure hadn't been warm and welcoming, either. "I'd be glad to fix supper, Brian." One olive branch deserved another. "Was there anything special you had planned for tonight?"

He shook his head. "No." He flashed a bashful grin. "To be honest, I'm usually flying by the seat of my pants rather than planning meals. The freezers are full of meat, and I think Crane told you, nobody's too picky."

"Freezers?" Hannah looked around the kitchen.

"They're both in the cellar."

Hannah remembered Crane sending Guthrie to the cellar the night before, but she didn't remember seeing a cellar. She knew where the pantry – rather amazingly well-stocked with home-canned foods – was, but not the cellar. She asked "Where is the cellar?"

He stared at her for a minute, and then shook his head. She was afraid he was going to say something rude about her not seeing it but he didn't. "I guess nobody showed you where it was? How'd Adam miss that in that breakneck tour he gave you?" He was grinning and she smiled in return. "Come on, Miss – Mrs. McFadden – and I'll show you." He held the outside door open for her.

The cellar door was right there on the porch, but Hannah could see how she'd overlooked it before; there wasn't a knob as such but more like a metal handle that turned clockwise to unlock. She followed Brian down a steep flight of stairs into a surprisingly large room that seemed to be a combination of traditional basement and root cellar. Large bins ran along two walls, holding potatoes, onions, apples, squash and pumpkins. Two freezers, each easily seven feet long, sat side by side along the third wall. Under the steps was the hot water heater and in a tiny room of its own was the furnace.

Brian waited patiently as Hannah selected a large roast from one of the freezers and gathered up potatoes, squash and onions. "Guthrie had a mashed potato sandwich for lunch today."

She wasn't sure how Brian would respond but she was surprised by his laughter. He took the roast from her and led the way back to the kitchen. "Mama loved those."

"You're kidding." Then Hannah caught herself. "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to –"

He waved his hand. "I know what you mean. But she really did think they were great. I can't stand them myself but Guthrie has always liked them. He'll make a sandwich out of the mashed potatoes at the table sometimes. I know he doesn't remember Mama liking them so I don't know why he does."

Hannah put the vegetables down on the sink. "Does he remember your parents at all?"

Adam had told her their parents had died "About ten years back." Guthrie was twelve.

Brian shook his head. "No, he doesn't. Evan and Ford – they remember some – but Guthrie doesn't remember them at all." He started for the door and then turned back, obviously wanting to say something else.

Hannah waited.

Brian ran his fingers through his hair, then finally turned to face her. "Look. I need to say something to you and I don't know how to make it sound nice. So I don't mean to offend you but hear me out, okay?"

She nodded, tensing.

"Adam… my brother, he loves you. A lot."

That wasn't what she'd expected to hear. "I love him."

"Yeah, I get that. It's just –" Brian let out his breath in a sigh. "Hannah, when our parents died, Adam gave up a lot. Hell, he gave up everything. He wanted to go to college, be a doctor. Get away from this ranch and Murphys and… well, everything. He was eighteen when they died and ever since he's been tied to this ranch and this family." He shook his head. "I don't mean he doesn't love it here now, but – this wasn't what he wanted out of life."

"Is this what you wanted out of life?" Hannah asked. "Adam says you raised the boys together."

Brian shrugged. "It doesn't matter so much about me. I mean, I never wanted to leave anyway. Didn't want to go to college. I guess, if they hadn't died, I probably would have, but it wasn't any great loss to me not to go. I loved the ranch, never could see myself going anywhere else." He stopped, then added, almost in a whisper, "Well, not back then anyway."

Before she could say anything he went on. "Adam had a girlfriend when Mama and Daddy died. I don't know that they were destined to get married or anything, but he cared about her a lot. She… well I guess she couldn't see herself being a mother at eighteen. And after her, he never… maybe one or two dates with someone but nobody serious. Until you.

"I know, him marrying you and then bringing you out here when you didn't know anything about us, it seemed kind of …" He was obviously struggling to express what he was thinking. He took another deep breath. "He should have told you. But he really loves you. I can tell. I know him. He was afraid if he told you, he'd lose you. And I really don't think he could take losing you."

"Brian," she had to stop him. "Adam and I talked about this. It's okay. I understand why he didn't tell me and it's okay." She paused. "All I ask is that you guys give me a chance."

Brian laughed without much humor. "That's not the problem Hannah. You've got all the chances in the world with us. Just…return the favor, okay?" He was gone before she could think of what to say.

to be continued