Lily stood sideways, smoothing her dress down over her stomach and studying the effect in the mirror.

"You're perfection," Max said from the bed where he was tying his shoes.

"I don't look pregnant." She held the dress under her belly to examine the shape of it.

"I'm not sure what the right response is. I feel like this could be a trap."

She turned forward and put both hands behind her back. "Seriously. There's supposed to be... like... a little volleyball under my shirt. But it's not a volleyball. I just look swollen, like I ate too much salt."

He came close and stood behind her slipping his hands around her waist to rest on top of the gentle swell of her stomach. "You are the most beautiful girl in the world."

She met his eyes in the mirror. "My feet have grown a whole size. My feet. There is no baby in my feet. Why are they getting bigger?"

He kissed her neck. "Your feet are glorious."

"I have raccoon eyes, Max."

"Let's stay home. I'll prove how desirable I think you are."

She turned in his arms and pressed her palms against his chest. "You'd keep me in bed the rest of my days if it were up to you."

"True." He kissed her until she relaxed and melted into his embrace. He kissed her a little longer after that. "Offer stands."

"We promised Delbert and Gracie," she replied.

He found the breathlessness of her voice gratifying, indeed.

"I just need to get my shoes," she told him, pulling away and walking away into the next room.

He followed her.

She sighed.

"Seriously, Max. I'm just getting my shoes."

He held out his hands. "I like being close to you."

She slipped her feet into her black ballet flats. "You can't follow me everywhere for the rest of my life."

"I can," he argued.

She rolled her shoulders, stretching the tension out of them. His overprotectiveness came from a place of concern, but she was starting to feel like a plant kept under a blanket. "I left California to learn how to live free."

"I'll never stop you from living," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I just want to make sure you're safe."

"From what?" She crossed to the dresser and chose a simple gold necklace. Clasping it around her neck, she said, "you can't protect me from everything."

"I can damn well try."

His calm reasonable tone irritated her as much as him dogging her every step. Don't fight, Lily. Not today. Today is Thanksgiving. Your first real holiday together. Do. Not. Fight.

Yesterday she'd convinced herself not to fight because it was the day before the holiday. The day before that she resisted because he'd come home from work staggering, almost too weak to stand. The day before that had been Monday. Fighting was no way to start the week.

At some point you're going to need to have this fight, a voice in the back of her mind said.

Not today, she silently responded.

She lifted her chin. "Ready to go?"

Late fall in Michigan held neither the bright life of summer nor the wonderland beauty of winter. Silver blades of icy rain slashed sideways through a grey sky and coated the dead, colorless world in a shimmering skin of gloom. The wind blew so cold it hurt her bare skin. The truck's heater blew air so hot she sympathized with all the turkeys being roasted that day. Her stomach rolled uncomfortably. She shifted, tugging the lap belt lower under her stomach.

"OK?" Max asked.

"I'm fine," she snapped. Closing her eyes against a wave of nausea that swept over her when they hit a particularly large pothole. Apparently, in Michigan, potholes that appeared after October were left to grow to canyon-depth through the winter.

"I thought the sickness was supposed to pass by now," he said.

"Yeah, well, tell it to the baby," she said, laying her head against the cold window.

"We don't have to--"

"I'm fine, Max," she said again, louder than she'd meant to.

They drove the rest of the way without speaking, only the frosty sound of the tires cutting through dampness playing accompaniment to their quiet drama. At the restaurant, she was out of the truck before he'd shut off the engine. The solid ground under her feet and the frigid air in her lungs settled her stomach and fortified her soul.

Max stood on the sidewalk in front of the truck, brow furrowed, hands in pockets, shoulders hunched against the wind.

"I'm OK, really," she assured him. "Sorry."

His mouth twitched upward at the corners. He held out an elbow and she took it and, together they walked into the warm glow of the bustling little restaurant.

Gracie greeted them at the door with a bright smile. "Poppy!" She embraced Lily and kissed the air next to her cheek before stepping back and pressing her hands against either side of the little bump of Lily's tummy. "Happy Thanksgiving little baby," she exclaimed before clapping her hands in girlish delight. Turning to Max, she allowed herself a long, slow look at him from the top of his head to the tip of his toes and back up again. "Mr. Metit," she finally said. "Always a true pleasure."

Max's cheeks flushed a shade of crimson nearly as bright as the scarlet tie. "Thank you, Mrs. Elderburr."

"Well," she exclaimed. "You're guests are already here. I wish you'd phoned about your fifth so we could get you a bigger table, but we've squeezed you all around a four-top. I'm sorry, it was really the best we could do."

Lily looked at Max who shrugged, apparently as confused as she.

Gracie waved at a pretty young girl, fair-haired and apple-cheeked as any storybook farmer's daughter, and she led them through the crowded front room to the more private, quieter dining room in the back. In a corner booth Daniel, Delwyn, and Azrael sat in still silence. All three with hands folded on the table. None of them looking at any of the others.

Lily's blood turned to ice.

Max's hand clenched tighter around hers. He muttered a curse under his breath.

In four steps they'd crossed the room. Her hand ached from Max's grip, but she wasn't about to pull away.

"Dad, I wasn't expecting you," he said in a voice that cracked like a schoolboy's.

Azrael gazed up at them with his bottomless eyes that brought beads of sweat to Lily's brow. "Daniel mentioned you were all meeting for a holiday feast. I hope you don't mind my presence."

Max inclined his head. "I trust everything is well."

Azrael opened his hands. "No act of the creatures of heaven or earth will ever change the truth that God reigns."

Daniel filled his wine-glass from an open bottle on the table. "None for you," he said to Lily with a sorry shrug.

She couldn't ever remember wanting a drink so badly. She slid into the booth next to Delwyn and Max took the spot on the end.

"So, did you say why you're here?" Max asked Azrael.

Lily caught Daniel's eye across the table. He waggled his brows at her. "I bloody love the holidays," he said with a lopsided grin.

"Do I need a reason to visit?" Azrael asked.

"I don't recall you ever visiting without one in the past," Max answered.

The server came, a boy who appeared to be about twelve years old except for his astonishing height.

Lily requested a glass of ginger ale. "Is there any chance I could get some saltine crackers to nibble before we order."

"Crackers?" He chewed his pencil as though trying to figure the answer to the final question on an algebra exam.

"Yes, please," Lily said, painfully aware of the three sets of eyes watching her.

"Uh... I'll ask," he finally said.

"Thank you."

Delwyn placed a hand over hers. "Are you well?"

"I'm fine," Lily lied. "This baby is just way too excited about the holidays."

"How is your school, Lily?" Azrael asked.

She tried to look at him, but couldn't manage it without breaking out in cold sweat, so she fiddled with the black cloth napkin in front of her instead. "Great! It's going well. Very well. Fantastic, really. It's better than I could have ever hoped." She heard herself babbling and clamped her lips shut.

"So, you really just came to have Thanksgiving dinner with us?" Max asked.

"There is nowhere I'd rather be today, Maximus," Azrael answered.

The foursome sat, carefully avoiding one another's eyes. Lily watched Gracie bustle about from table to table and hoped she'd have that much energy at the same age. Frankly, she hoped she'd have that much energy ever again. Growing a human was taxing business.

The farmers in the room sat up, straight and stiff in suits they normally only wore to weddings and funerals. Their wives smiled and chattered. Children picked at their food and kicked each other under the tables. One little girl colored with such determination her pink tongue stuck out between her teeth. A baby cried in some part of the restaurant she couldn't see. The smell of food filled the air, hot and rich.

When the kid showed up with her drink she could have wept with relief. The soda was so cold and soothing she couldn't even be mad about the crackers he'd forgotten. He plunked a salad down in front of each of them and trotted off again. The bright green lettuce, red tomatoes, yellow bell peppers, and white cheese made as fresh and pretty a dish as she could have asked, but the idea of eating had entirely lost its appeal.

A man's voice rose above the crowd and a roar of laughter followed the words she hadn't quite been able to make out.

In her stomach, the baby gave a hearty kick and flipped a somersault as if in protest.

Max poked at his salad. Delwyn ate in her slow quiet way behind her veil. Daniel's plate was nearly clean already.

She didn't want to look at Azrael.

"Wanna hearajoke?" Daniel asked around his full mouth.

"No," Max said at the same moment Lily offered an enthusiastic, "sure!" Anything would be better than the awful silence.

"Polish mate married an Amish girl. Drove her buggy."

The corners of Lily's mouth twitched. "Tell another," she prompted.

"Lily," Max said.

"What?"

He shook his head and took another bite, looking off into the distance.

Daniel drained his wine and waved at the skinny kid, indicating his desire for another bottle.

It struck Lily that he was the only one drinking, so he was at least four glasses in.

"Why did the chicken commit suicide?"

Lily poked at the lettuce on her plate. "Why?"

"He wanted to get to the other side."

"Daniel," Max said.

Ignoring Max, he pushed his empty plate aside and leaned his elbows on the table. "What does the Grim Reaper do for kicks?"

Lily played along, ignoring her husband's scowl. "What?"

"Goes to the retirement home Halloween party." He pounded the table and threw his head back in laughter. "Wait, wait! What is the Grim Reaper's favorite game?" He waited a beat and answered his own question. "Whack a mole!"

"Daniel," Max said again.

"Another," Lily pleaded.

"What happened when the grim reaper showed up at the tobacco factory?"

"Do tell."

"Somebody got snuffed!" He fell back against the booth, laughing harder than the ridiculous one-liners warranted.

For the second time since they'd arrived Lily thought how nice it would be to join him for a drink.

"Why doesn't the Grim Reaper mind Max eating Life cereal?"

"What?" Lily asked, confused.

Daniel could hardly get the words out. "He knows it just a rebellious phase!"

"Watcher, I'll thank you to sober up, now," Azrael said in a soft, low voice that swept across the table with the same icy force as the frigid breeze outside.

Daniel wiped his eyes and nodded, saying no more, but the sparkle remained in his eye. He winked at Lily.

Max wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Have you seen Michael lately?"

The question surprised Lily. She'd never heard Max speak of the people he worked with by name. She'd asked about his co-workers, about the brothers Azrael had mentioned, about people from his past. Every question met gentle, unyielding resistance.

I don't know any more about him now than I did when I met him, she thought. But that wasn't true. Not really. She didn't know the details of his days, but she knew him. She knew him through-and-through, knew the person he was. On the heels of that thought, came the certain knowledge that he was afraid. His father was part of the secret world he lived in--the world where he could be beaten and worn down nearly to the point of death and it was just another day. Now, that violent world was here at Thanksgiving dinner.

"Of course," Azrael replied. "His heart and mind are dutiful."

The muscle in Max's jaw jumped.

"He has asked after your well-being," Azrael offered.

"I'm sure he has," Max replied. "Tell him I'm just fine. Everything is going along just as smooth as can be around here."

"I heard Bruce Smith passed away," Azrael said.

Lily gasped. "Bruce Smith the farmer out on Wolf Highway?"

Max turned to her, "You knew him?"

"Not really," tears pricked her eyes. Stupid pregnant hormones. Her emotions boiled across the surface all the time. Couldn't they go back to stupid one-liners? She sipped her ginger ale, washing away the lump in her throat. "I delivered Meals on Wheels to his house a few weeks ago when Gracie asked me to drive her on her route. Poor man. He seemed so alone in that big old house."

"Lonely guys in big creepy farmhouses," Daniel shook his head. "Sad."

"Did you come here just to annoy me?" Max snapped at him.

Daniel grinned. "Yes."

"Bruce had a hard time of it," Azrael said.

"At least he's at rest now," Lily said. She hoped the comment would end the conversation, but when it did, she wished they'd start talking again.

The server came back and replaced their salad plates with dishes loaded with roast turkey and potatoes swimming in gravy, green beans, and fat golden rolls, and a dab of cranberry sauce.

Her brain registered the delicious smell. Her stomach argued the point. She sipped her cold drink, asked for another.

"Lily, do you plan to visit your parents any time soon?" Azrael asked.

Please don't let me be sick, she silently prayed before answering. "No. Maybe after the baby--"

Max slammed his glass down, cutting her off. "What do you want, Azrael?"

"Max, it's nice that your father came for Thanksgiving. My parents--"

"It's not nice," he interrupted again. "You don't know him, Lily. He doesn't come for visits. He's not that kind of dad. If he's here, he's here for a reason and you can bet your ass it's nothing good for either one of us."

Lily glanced at the other tables to see them staring. Hot blood rushed to her face. "Max, please."

Delwyn's hand settled on her leg, silent, soothing support as welcome as the summer sunshine.

"I just want to know what game is being played here," Max said.

"You wanted to have a family, Maximus, a normal life. This is what normal looks like, as I understand. Family gathers for holidays."

Max turned on Daniel. "What's your part in this?"
"Oi! You invited me, mate!"

"Well, maybe you should stay and have dinner with my dad, then. Why don't you invite Michael, too? You all can talk shop and figure out how to clean up after the sloppy kid who's lost his focus."

"Maximus--" Azrael began.

"That's what this is about, right? I screwed up and you're here to make sure I know it. Let me guess, there was some horrible consequence. Well, don't you worry because I'm sure it'll only get worse. That's the way, right? No rest. No vacation. No joy. No end. Just a cycle that repeats again and again into infinity and I'm supposed to suck it up because that's my role in life. My role because of your choice. A choice you get to make and I don't."

"Maximus you go too far." Every hair on Lily's body stood up when Azrael spoke, as if lightning had struck too close to the building.

Gracie click-clacked toward them with a bowl in hand. "Delbert wanted you to try his new creamed corn recipe," she declared, plopping the dish of soupy yellow and white chunks down in front of Lily.

She was suddenly certain she was going to vomit. Without a word, she slid out of the booth and raced for the bathroom where she fell to her knees in front of the toilet without a moment to spare.

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What's a holiday dinner without some family drama, right?

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