“No, it wasn’t the wife. She and him barely spoke. She was busy serving all this food. Man, I never seen so much food in my life. Turkey and ham and roast beef and mashed potatoes—”

“So if it wasn’t Dr. Sparks and his wife, it was…”

Drew held his finger in the air. “The priest. Dr. Sparks and the priest. Actually, I think the whole family was arguin’ with the priest.”

Oliver paused. “About what?”

“Stuff about God. Stuff I didn’t understand.”

Marge said, “You don’t remember any of it?”

“No.”

“You remember enough to recall them arguing,” Oliver said. “Doesn’t anything stick in your mind?”

Drew paused again. “Something about evil thoughts being evil or whatever. I remember that because I remember thinking: Drew, you’re in trouble. ’Cause you have lots of evil thoughts. Liz could tell you better.”

Marge said, “Did she participate in the argument?”

“I don’t know. If she did, it was probably on Dr. Sparks’s side. She wouldn’t do anything to piss him off.”

Oliver said, “Was the priest angry?”

Drew stopped rocking, folded his arms across his chest. “You know, everyone was dumping on him. His name was Bram.” He smiled. “Guess I do remember some things.”

“Go on,” Marge said.

“I remember thinking, ‘If I was getting dumped on, like he was, I’d either blow or go.’ He just sat there, real calm, just taking it. Never raised his voice.”

“Why were they dumping on him?” Marge asked.

“I don’t know. I guess they didn’t like what he was sayin’.”

“What was he saying?”

“I don’t know. I just felt for the guy, wondered why everyone was dumping on him. But maybe he was used to it. ’Cause when the missus called the kids for dessert, conversation went back to being polite. And the priest acted like nothing happened. Smiling with the kids. Playing magic tricks…you know, making nickels disappear and reshowin’ up behind their ears. I like that one. I do it all the time with Henry. The priest has a twin brother, you know.”

“Luke,” Marge said. “Was he dumping on him, too?”

“They all were—” Drew paused. “No, you’re right. How about that. You’re real good.”

Marge said, “Good about what?”

“The twin. A few minutes after they started arguin’, the twin got up and started playing with the kids, just like me. Must be another one who hates conflict.”

“You hate conflict.”

“Boy, yeah, I hate it. Bad Karma. When Liz starts to yell, man, I’m outta here. If I don’t leave, I blow.”

“I hear you,” Oliver stated.