Chicken salad, croissants, fruit tray, potato salad, baked beans… I went over everything as my husband, Jack, steered the car toward Milton, W. Va., for a memorial service for Jack’s sister-in-law, Rosemary. Afterward the whole family was coming to our house. “Do you think there will be thirty or forty people?” I asked.
“Closer to forty,” Jack said. Big families were nothing new to me. I came from one myself. But I still got nervous when I had to feed them all at once. I wanted the afternoon to be pleasant for the whole gang. I’d made sure the rocking chairs on our front porch were all in good condition—it was the perfect place for reminiscing about Rosemary’s life. I’d deadheaded all the geraniums so they looked picture perfect.
But there were still a lot of details I wanted to take care of. I hadn’t met all of Jack’s family—even Jack didn’t know all the relatives coming today—and I wanted to make a good impression. Jack and I would have to run out as soon as the service was over so we would arrive at the house before our guests. As long as nothing went wrong…
“Look!” Jack said. He pointed up ahead. A tall guy with brown hair stood at the side of the road. “There must have been a breakdown,” said Jack. “Let’s see what they need.”
We can’t stop! I thought. It will throw everything off schedule!
“It looks like he’s waiting for someone,” I said. “He’s probably already called for assistance.”
“Then he’ll get more assistance,” said Jack. He pulled the car over. “What happened?” he asked.
The man explained that they’d hit a deer. Close up I could see blood spattered on his crisp white shirt. An older lady leaned against his car. Neither of them were hurt. The blood was from the deer. “It smashed through the windshield. Then it ran off into the woods,” the man said. These people don’t need our help, I thought, thinking about our family waiting for us up ahead. Wasn’t that what today was all about? Family? They were counting on us.
But Jack wasn’t going to budge until he knew they were okay. The couple were still stunned from the crash and hadn’t called 911, so Jack pulled out his cell phone. I waited with them, chatting about cars and deer, and how badly they went together. Jack closed his phone. “They’ll be here in a few minutes,” he reported, but he wouldn’t get in our car until the couple insisted they were fine.
Finally Jack and I were on our way again. We were late for the service, which meant we had to stick around to say hello afterward. It was far too long before I was able to rush Jack out. As soon as we got home I sprinted into the house, calling over my shoulder, “I’ll need some help with the pitchers!”
We’d barely finished pouring the iced tea when the doorbell rang. I hurried to answer it, pausing only to straighten the cross-stitched house and willow trees framed on the wall of the living room above the sofa.
Soon the house was filled with people. I mingled among them, checking to make sure everyone had something to eat, a glass of iced tea. As far as I was concerned that was my job today: taking care of family.
“Doorbell’s ringing!” Jack called.
I hurried to answer it. “Is this where Rosemary’s get-together is being held?” the man on the stoop asked.
“It sure is,” I said. The man looked familiar, and so did the woman next to him. Had I met them at a family reunion? I studied him closely: tall, dark hair, white shirt—he’d tried to wash a stain off it. There was still a trace of red. “Weren’t you two stranded on the road earlier?” I said.
“We were!” the man said. “Look, Mom, it’s the lady who helped us. We would never have gotten to the service without her!”
“It was nothing,” I mumbled. Trouble was, it really felt like it. It was Jack who had wanted to help. If it were up to me I might have driven right by. I was so busy focusing on fixing things up for Jack’s family, I almost left two members of it stranded on the side of the road!
“Mom and I couldn’t believe how nice these people were,” the man was soon telling the entire gathering. By now he and his mother were settled on the couch with plates of chicken salad balanced on their knees. “They had so many things to do today, but they still helped somebody in need.”
His mother took up the story, showering me with compliments. I accepted them gracefully, my cheeks red with embarrassment. As she spoke my eyes drifted to the cross-stitch above her head, a little house between two willow trees. When I’d adjusted it earlier I hadn’t bothered to read the words sewn above them.
I read them now, feeling like I’d only just now understood them: “Be not forgetful to entertain strangers for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”
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