by Leah Atwood
“A menu.” Lifting a tissue to dry her eyes, she grabbed her notebook with her other hand. “This is what I worked on before calling you. I was so frantic, I couldn’t think of any dishes other than the main turkey, and when I started searching for traditional Thanksgiving menus and recipes online and in cookbooks, I got overwhelmed. Did you know there are a million and one different ways to prepare a turkey?”
Evan smiled to himself. Now that he’d been assured no true emergency existed, he saw the humor in the situation with a touch of sadness. The old Janie would have taken it in stride and figured out a solution on her own without an emotional overload. “Jared’s back to day shifts, and I’ll call him later when he’s off. Remember his sister makes those amazing pies? He can ask her for a recipe for a pumpkin and pecan pie.”
“I forgot about that. Great idea.” She scribbled a note. “My family always has a caramel apple pie, so I’ll add that, too. I’ll ask Mom for Nanna’s recipe.”
“Now for the main menu. What does your family normally have?”
“Turkey, ham, stuffing, rolls, green bean casserole, cheesy cornbread casserole, cranberry sauce from a can.” A cookbook fell off the table, and she picked it up. “I’d like to switch it up though, add other dishes.”
“Such as?”
“Not sure. Maybe mac and cheese.” She rubbed her stomach. “Mrs. Ford makes the best. They invited me for Thanksgiving last year, and it was so delicious. I made a pig of myself with three helpings but didn’t even care.”
“I bet if you ask her, she’ll make a tray for you.”
“Would that be asking too much?”
He shook his head. “Not with her. She loves cooking for others. We’ll even buy the ingredients for her if she’ll let us.”
Janie’s eyes widened. “I should invite them and return the favor from last year. She told me last week her children can’t make it in this year, and they’ve never met my family.”
“Give her a call.” If she wanted to invite more people, he wouldn’t question that decision. Despite her self-doubt, he had faith in her ability to pull it together.
And with a little patience and recipe-following, the food might even be edible.
“What does your family have for their traditional meal?” Her eyes didn’t lift from her notes.
“Turkey, rice dressing, veggies, carrot salad, rolls. I’m sure there’s more that I’m forgetting.”
“We had carrot salad a few years.” Janie looked at him. “Do you like it?”
“Not particularly, but rice dressing is a staple that completes the meal.” Thinking of his mom’s, he could taste it already.
“So many options.” Growling, Janie tossed her notebook on the counter. “How do I decide?”
“First of all, forget all the fancy magazine recipes. They’re not helping you at all, and likely beyond our skill level.”
“Our?”
“I’m going to help you cook.”
She snorted. “Yeah, okay.”
“I’m serious. If you can learn to cook a Thanksgiving dinner, so can I.”
Her eyes shifted, clearly uncertain of his capabilities—not that he could be upset. He’d done the same to her minutes ago. “You think we should stick with basics?”
“Absolutely. It doesn’t have to be complicated to still taste good.”
She took a deep breath. “We’ve got this.”
“Yes, we do.”
They spent the next half hour planning the meal, narrowing down the choices to a simple menu. The final choices consisted of turkey, ham (pre-cooked and pre-sliced), mashed potatoes and gravy, green bean casserole, corn, rice dressing, mac and cheese, and rolls. For dessert, they’d have two pumpkin pies, one apple, and one pecan.
“What about appetizers?” Janie asked after they’d completed the menu.
“Do we need them?”
Her scowl answered him. “It’s not Thanksgiving without them. Mom always puts them out for us to nibble on during the parade and games before dinner.”
“Come to think of it, Mom always had out deviled eggs, and a tray of cheese and crackers, but I never thought much about it.”
“We also had a veggie tray, and all that’s easy enough to pull together.” A grin popped up. “And deviled eggs are one dish I can make without problems.”
“Let’s stick with those and the two trays then. They’re easy enough.”
“Thanks for your help.” She cast him an appreciative glance. “I’m sure I’d eventually have gotten it on my own, but you helped me calm down and put it all in perspective.”
“All in a day’s work. Anything else before I leave?” Pushing his chair back, he stood.
“Can you invite Jared when you ask about the pies?”
“Sure. What time?”
“If you’re really going to help me cook, around eleven for you. Tell Jared we’ll eat at five, but he can come anytime before that.” Her lips straightened to a thin line. “If anyone in the squadron will be alone, invite them, too.”
“I will.” He didn’t make a big deal of the extended invitation, but he knew the inner strength it required of her.
While she’d come to homecoming and welcomed everyone home, she’d kept her distance from everyone but him, Wyatt, and Jared. Had he and the other two not been so close with Mike, Janie probably would have tried to push them away as well, but they wouldn’t have let it happen. As it was, Mike had made them promise to look after Janie if anything happened to him, and vows between war brothers were sacred.
Chapter Five
Janie shooed her mother from the kitchen with a smile. “For once in your life, take a break and rest. I have this under control.”
Mom eyed the mess scattered on the counters, in the sink, and yes, even the floor. “I don’t mind helping. I love to cook.”
“Evan will be here any minute, and we’re going to make everyone a fabulous dinner. Consider it a small token of thanks for all the years you cooked.” She scanned the mess with her own eyes. “Just ignore all this.”
“Can I at least sweep the flour off the floor?”
“I can see your fingers already itching for the broom.” Janie laughed. “If you want to sweep, I won’t argue with that.”
The homemade crust turned out disastrous in the first round, but the second attempt would suffice. She glanced at her to-do list stuck on the fridge with a magnet. Compared it to the clock on the wall. Even with starting earlier this morning than she’d planned, she quickly fell behind.
Now she understood why people started their preparations in the days leading up to Thanksgiving. She’d always thought they only did that because they were cooking for exceptionally large groups or crafting sophisticated recipes that required extra time. In a few hours, she’d learned the truth—making Thanksgiving dinner was hard work.
Mom returned with a broom and dustpan in hand. She started to sweep, then stopped and looked her with a strange expression. “Is there something between you and Evan?”
Stunned by the question, Janie couldn’t answer right away. “We’re good friends, just as we’ve always been.”
“Nothing more?”
“Not at all. Why?” Her heart thumped in a visceral reaction she couldn’t stop.
Her mom shrugged then continued sweeping. “It seems you’ve been spending lots of time with him lately, and you mention his name often.”
“If so, it’s only because we’ve been planning today.”
“Evan’s a good man. If you fell in love with him, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” A sly grin spread slowly over her mother’s mouth.
“Mom!” She heaved an exasperated sigh. “I’m not sure I’ll ever love again—and right now, it’s too gigantic of an idea to even think about. Besides, if I do fall in love again, it won’t be with one of Mike’s best friends.”
Opening, then shutting her mouth, her mom appeared to want to say more, but wisely remained quiet. Janie wasn’t sure she could take any more comments a
long those lines. She’d determined to make today a day of thanks and gratitude, which was already a struggle without hints that she should find a new husband.
The timer on the gas oven dinged, signaling the apple and pecan pie were done. She slipped an owl and acorn decorated oven mitt over her hand and pulled out the two pies, then replaced them with the pumpkin ones.
“Smells good, honey.”
“Thanks, Mom.” She breathed in the sweet aroma, picking out the cinnamon and nutty scents.
When the doorbell rang, her mom dumped the contents of the dustpan in the trash. “I’ll get the door for you.”
A few seconds later, Evan entered the kitchen with a white plastic grocery bag in each hand. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Same to you.”
He set the bags on the counter then gave the area the same appraising glances her mom had. “Chaotic morning?”
“Not at all.” She winked before unpacking the grocery bags. She lifted a white tub, reading the lid. “Is this the rice dressing mix you told me about?”
“Yes. I always thought Mom made hers from scratch, but she told me this is her secret. You just heat this and add it to cooked rice.” He took the container from her hands and pried the lid open. “She overnighted this to me on dry ice.”
“That was sweet.”
“She had ulterior motives.” Evan gathered the trash from the counter and tossed it into the receptacle to make more work room. He grabbed a disinfecting wipe and rubbed it over the counter space. “She wants me to come home for Christmas.”
“Are you going to?” She pulled a skillet and dutch oven from a bottom cabinet. “Will these work?”
“Yes, to both.”
Her throat sank to her stomach. Jared had announced last week they’d approved his leave for Christmas and would head to Wyoming in mid-December. Now Evan was leaving too? Maybe she should go home for Christmas. It wasn’t too late. But Mike’s family would want to see her. She kept in touch with them, but that was different than sitting in the house where Mike had grown up and with pictures of him on every wall.
There’d be no escaping the memories. What was a girl to do?
She had other friends in Jacksonville. This could be the opportunity to reach out to them, re-establish relationships. Yet, that became difficult as well. Most of them didn’t know how to act around her since Mike died. They filtered their conversation with her and clammed up anytime they made a wayward remark about their husbands. She appreciated their efforts to show sensitivity, but she wanted to be treated like a normal friend.
Evan dumped the rice into the pan then turned around. “What’s wrong?”
Her face must have shown her disappointment. “Nothing.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t lie to me. I thought we were better friends than that.”
“Jared’s going home for Christmas, and now you.” She brushed her hands on her flour- covered apron. “It’s silly, but I assumed you’d both be here and we’d all spend the holiday together.”
His eyes widened, and he cupped her shoulder. “I’m sorry. Mom asked, and I didn’t even think. I’ll call her back and tell her I can’t.”
“No, you can’t do that.” She moved from his touch. All she needed was her mom to walk in and see that to set her maternal imagination ablaze. “I’ll be fine.”
“Why don’t you come with me?” His jaw dropped, like the suggestion surprised him, but then nodded as if he approved of his own idea. “Yeah, you should come to Louisiana. I’ll show you how a Cajun Christmas is done.”
She shook her head in protest. “I can’t intrude on your family time.”
“You wouldn’t be. They’d love to have you.”
“It’s not a good idea.” Tempting as it was that would really set off alarms in her mom’s head.
“Give me one reason why not.” He braced his legs and crossed his arms.
She glanced around for any sign of her mom and only continued when she didn’t see her. “Mom asked me earlier if there is a romance brewing between us. If I go to Louisiana for Christmas with you, she’ll definitely think there is.”
“Who cares?” He tossed his hands up. “You don’t want to go home, and you don’t want to stay in Jacksonville alone. If you don’t want to go, that’s fine, but don’t spend a holiday alone because you’re worried what someone might think.”
That’s one of the reasons she loved Evan, Wyatt, and Jared dearly. They were careful not to upset her with careless comments, but they also wouldn’t let her fold into herself. “I’ll think about it.”
“Fair enough.” He turned his back to her to stir the dressing. “What’s next?”
“The turkey needs to go in the oven.”
“Is it ready?” He spun around to look for the bird.
“No.” She pointed to the sink. “It’s still there. I set it out earlier to finish thawing.”
He wove his index fingers around. “Where’s the roasting pan?”
“Oh no.” She shifted her eyes sideways, praying one would miraculously appear. “I forgot to get one.”
“No biggie. I’m sure there’s something else we can use.” He rummaged through her cabinet of cookware and withdrew the largest glass dish she owned. “Will it fit in here?”
“Let’s see. Put it there by the sink.”
The turkey legs spread out when Evan unwrapped the bird. He lifted it up and set the turkey in the dish. “It’s tight, but it fits.”
“Whew.”
Crisis averted.
***
Janie breathed a sigh of relief after she laid the last place setting at the table. If Thanksgiving dinner could be measured by appearance alone, then she’d succeeded. She’d gone to the craft store earlier in the week and purchased the supplies to make a cornucopia centerpiece. The end result sat proudly in the middle of her table. She might not be a good cook, but she loved to craft and was proud of her creations.
At each chair, she’d placed a ceramic pumpkin personalized for each guest—a little keepsake they could take home from the meal. Surrounding each dish and bowl of food were silk flowers placed as an accent. Each detail tied the table together for a beautiful effect.
Satisfied everything was in place, she called everybody in for dinner. She’d had her dad add the extra leaf to the table last night in order to accommodate all the guests. Jessie and Julie came first, followed by James. She’d barely seen them since she’d started cooking, but she had given them strict instructions to stay out of her way. Cooking the meal stressed her out enough without adding an audience.
All three siblings gladly obliged for fear they’d be put to work. The matching expressions on their faces earlier made her laugh. One would think as skilled as their mother was, at least one of them would have inherited the cooking gene, but none had shown signs of it to date.
Jared walked in next, talking to Malcolm Devrie, a friend from the squadron who chose to eat with them.
“Thanks for coming.” She extended a hand to greet him. “I’m sorry I missed you when you came in.”
“Quite all right, ma’am. I know you were busy, and I was just glad to be invited.” Malcolm came from a line of Atlanta Devries who’d lived there for two centuries. His deep-rooted Southern heritage always shone brightly in his accent and impeccable manners.
“You’re always welcome here for a home-cooked meal.”
Beside him, Jared snorted.
She laughed. “I didn’t say who would cook it.”
“I’m giving you a hard time.” Jared gave her a brief hug. “This looks great. You’ve outdone yourself.”
“Evan did most of it.” She waved a hand over the table. “He’s a natural. I think he’s holding out on us.”
“Did I hear my name?” Evan came in with Mr. and Mrs. Ford.
“I was telling Jared and Malcolm how you did most of the work.”
“Sure, so everyone can blame me when it tastes bad.” His eyes sparkled with merriment. “But I did sneak a piece of
turkey and ham, and I must say, it tastes better than I expected.”
Mrs. Ford leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You did a great job. The decorations and table are gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” She looked for her parents but didn’t see them. “Where are Mom and Dad?”
“Right here.” Mom held a hand behind her back.
Dad stood beside her grinning. “It’s not Thanksgiving without the squirrel.”
Julie groaned and slumped her shoulders. “You brought the squirrel?”
“It’s tradition.” Dad beamed, and Janie’s chest tugged with fondness.
Traditions were the heart of her family. They had a list of them for every holiday, and even though she and her siblings teased her parents about them, she knew they wouldn’t want them to end.
Evan nudged her arm and whispered, “I know I’m from Louisiana and all, where squirrel is a common food, but please tell me they aren’t talking about a real one.”
“Don’t worry. It’s a ceramic squirrel riding an ear of corn.” She tilted her head toward her Mom who had revealed the object.
“What do we do with it?” Malcolm asked.
“After the prayer for the meal, we pass the squirrel around, and everyone takes a turn naming one thing they are thankful for.” Her dad took the knickknack from her mom. “We’ve done this every year for twenty-six years since James was two.”
“That’s awesome.” Jared bobbed his head in support of the idea.
“We did something similar with our children as they grew.” Mr. Ford folded his wife’s hand in his. “Except we handed out corn kernels, and whatever grade they were in, that’s how many items they had to be thankful for.”
“What about after they graduated?” Her mom moved to the seat where a pumpkin had her name.
“They had the freedom to choose their own number.” Mrs. Ford laughed. “It became a game to outdo their brothers and sisters, but we didn’t mind. It got them to think about all there is to be grateful for.”
“Amen to that.” Dad set the squirrel on the table.
Janie claimed the seat next to her father. “Would you say the blessing for us, please?”
“I’d be honored. Would everyone close their eyes and bow their heads, please?” Her dad followed his own instructions. “Dear Father in heaven, we thank You for this bounty of food before us, and for all of Your provision. Thank You for the blessing of celebrating this holiday with family and friends. Bless this food to our body. We love You. In Your name, Amen.”