Once Upon A Thanksgiving: Season of Bounty / Home for Thanksgiving. Linda Ford
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one of those times.
“I’m in here,” Mother called from the sitting room.
Kathleen took a deep, calming breath and scolded herself for feeling so restless when she was so blessed. She stepped into the room. “Mother, you’re up already. How are you?”
“I do believe I am feeling better every day.” She sighed in such a way that Kathleen wondered at the truth of her words. “I get tired of being tired.”
Kathleen sat on the stool at her knees. “You did something different with your hair.”
“Jeannie offered to brush and style it.” Jeannie was more than housekeeper. She often did little things to brighten Mother’s day. Kathleen would be sure to thank her later.
“It’s very becoming.”
Mother brushed her hand over her hair. “Who was that young man?”
Kathleen stalled. She didn’t want her parents to know too much about Buck, aware they would heartily disapprove of Joey. “That’s Rosie’s brother I told you about. He insisted on seeing me safely home.”
“I see.” Mother studied her a long moment. “And yet you’ve gone back and forth safely the past few weeks.”
“I assured him I didn’t need an escort, but he insisted his mother would expect him to do so.”
“Where is his mother?”
“She’s passed away.”
“Oh, I am sorry.”
Kathleen wished she could talk to her mother about the thousand thoughts racing through her head. Why were Rosie and Buck so secretive? Both parents were dead. How long ago? Was Joey truly on the mend? If he was, would Buck be on his way? Why did the idea tangle her thoughts? What did it all mean? But aware her mother would tell her to forget such people, she didn’t voice any of her questions. “I’ll go see if Cook needs help.” She hurried to the kitchen before her mother could say anything.
But Cook had everything competently under control and allowed her only to finish setting the table. Kathleen did so and stood back to study the formal dining room with its perfectly matched chairs and perfectly matched china and silver. It was all very nice but lacked something that seemed to abound around Rosie’s table. Funny—she hadn’t been so acutely aware of it until a day or two ago.
When Buck and Joey showed up. When she discovered in her heart an emotion she couldn’t name.
Kathleen’s father came in, greeted her mother and asked, “Is Kathleen home?”
She hurried from the dining room. “I’m here, Father.”
“Good. Good.” He settled down with the paper. “I don’t want you spending all afternoon at that woman’s place.”
“Her name is Rosie Zacharias and she is a very nice woman, as you would surely know if you ever visited her.”
Father looked over the top of his paper at Kathleen’s tone. She instantly repented of her peevishness. “I only meant she’s a good mother and a decent person.”
Neither parent said a thing, but Kathleen knew she had shocked and disappointed them with her attitude. She had no wish to be disrespectful. In the future she must guard her thoughts and her tongue.
The hours dragged the next morning as Kathleen helped her mother sort through letters from family members. For some reason Mother enjoyed reading them over and over and putting them in chronological order. “I’m sure some day these will constitute a valuable family history.”
Kathleen restrained herself from saying she wondered who would be interested in the chitchat, gossipy things most of the aunts and cousins related. “Today I wore a new chiffon dress. You would love it. Palest blue. One of your favorite colors, as I recall.” “I think I neglected to tell you Mamie and Fred have been seen together more often than not. Why, I myself saw them rowing on the lake Sunday.” Kathleen had no idea who Mamie and Fred were, or why anyone should care if they went out together in a rowboat.
She sighed at her frustration. Perhaps she was only being petty because she didn’t have anyone who would take her out in a boat, which wasn’t exactly true. Young Merv, who worked with Father, would surely take her out if she offered him any encouragement. Perhaps not in a boat, though, as there wasn’t a decent lake nearby and she didn’t fancy a long ride with him to get to one. She secretly thought the man a little too impressed with himself to be interesting.
He never showed the kindness to others that Buck did. Nor the approval Buck had expressed to her yesterday afternoon.
Finally Kathleen’s father arrived home for lunch, again taken in the dining room. As soon as they finished and he returned to work, Mother went to lie down. At last Kathleen could don her winter outerwear and hurry to visit Rosie.
The house rang with laughter as she stepped inside. Buck was on all fours on the floor, playing horsey to three boisterous boys.
Mattie tumbled off and pulled the others with him. They landed in a giggling heap. Buck corralled the trio and tickled them. They escaped to tackle him.
Rosie held young Lilly as she watched. Kathleen stood beside her and grinned at the roughhousing.
“They’ve missed Bill. He played with them,” Rosie said.
Kathleen tried to remember if she’d ever played with her father. She recalled only sedate walks during which she held his hand and flashed shiny new shoes. If not for the children of a large family—the Rempels—who lived a few blocks away, she wondered if she would even know what play was. Mary Rempel had been her best friend. Kathleen remembered afternoons of giggling and boisterous games and a pretend house in the bushes of the backyard. When the family moved away, Kathleen knew unabated loneliness until she went to a private girls’ school. But even then, her friendships proved transitory. Again, she wondered if it was her fault. Was she lacking some necessary social skill?
Buck rolled to his back, saw Kathleen watching him and grew still, his eyes flashing such warmth and welcome she forgot to breathe. “Hi,” he said. The word seemed to come from deep inside his chest.
Was it her imagination that made her think he silently invited her into a special world shared with him?
Of course it was. She gave herself a mental shake. “Everyone seems to be having a fine time.”
“It won’t last,” Rosie predicted. “Not this close to nap time.”
Mattie rolled into Junior, and right on cue they started to cry.
“Come on, you two.” Rosie led the way to the bedroom. “Bedtime.”
Buck sat up on the floor and pulled Joey into his arms. “What do you say, little buddy? Time for a rest?”
Joey pressed his head to Buck’s shoulder. “I sleep here?”
Buck nodded. “For a little while, though I think I’ll sit in a chair if you don’t mind.”
“I not mind.”
Cradling the boy, he plunked himself on a kitchen chair.
Kathleen realized she still wore her coat and slipped it off. She sat across the table from Buck as Joey’s eyes slowly closed. Watching the two of them brought a sting of tears to the back of her nose. “I think he’s asleep,” she whispered.
Buck nodded. “He’s still not up to his normal self.” He held the boy a moment longer, then laid him on the bed and covered him before he returned to the kitchen.
She sewed together more quilt pieces and tried not to be aware of his presence. Yet she couldn’t stop her eyes from glancing at him.
He leaned his elbows on the table, rested his chin in his palms and studied her so intently she ducked her head and concentrated on taking a small, even stitch.
“Tell me how you celebrate Thanksgiving