by Amy Vastine
CHAPTER FOUR
“You look beautiful, Nana.” Jenny smiled at the reflection she shared with her mother and grandmother. “You, too, Mom.”
Her mother put her arms around Jenny and Emma’s waists and squeezed. “Yes, we do.”
They drew apart, none of them sitting down because they didn’t want to wrinkle the soft silk of their fall-color dresses. “Does this make you think about getting married, honey?”
Her mother would never push—it wasn’t in her—but Jenny knew when an “I’d like to be a grandmother” speech was coming on. She grinned. “I am married. To the kids in my classroom. When I find a guy who can satisfy me as much or make me laugh as hard as they do, I’ll give marriage due consideration.” She shrugged. “I love you. I love Dad. But I don’t want a relationship like yours.”
“I don’t blame you,” her mother said bluntly. “It’s hard being married to Lucas Boyle, and it’s always been hard. But the truth is, when I’m not wanting to kill him or send him back to Nana, your dad satisfies me and makes me laugh every day of my life.”
“He’s just like his father.” For a moment, standing with her bouquet of asters and mums in her hands, Emma looked sad. “I’m sorry for that in some ways.” She touched her daughter-in-law’s cheek. “In other ways, well, you two have made each other happy. And you’ve raised a wonderful daughter.” She laughed, the sound catching in her throat. “With my help, of course. She’d never have jumped out of a plane if it hadn’t been for me.”
Jenny frowned, trying to think…but whatever it was escaped her, and she picked up her flowers.
A few minutes later, they went downstairs to the meeting room that had been set aside for the wedding. The desk had called earlier, apologizing every which way but up, but they’d had to move the event to the larger room because something had sprung an unfortunate leak in the small one Travis and Emma had reserved. It looked lovely, though, and there would be no extra charge for the use of the large room.
“We’re going to echo in there,” Emma worried while they rode down in the elevator. “Although that might be good, since Travis is getting deafer than he cares to admit.”
“Nothing like you, Nana,” Jenny murmured.
Her grandmother gave her a blank look. “Huh?”
“I said—” The burst of laughter from the other two women stopped her, and she laughed, too. “Got me, didn’t you? Okay, I concede that your hearing is flawless.”
“It certainly is.”
Piano music swelled into the hall as they approached the room, playing “Over the Rainbow.” Emma frowned. “That sounds like Mary Jean from church playing. She always misses…right there. Hear it?”
“Hmm.” Lorraine raised her eyebrows. “What goes on, do you think?”
The door opened then, and Lucas stepped out. “The flower girl is done. That little Charlotte did a good job, Jenny. I’m going to hire her when she grows up—she did everything the teaching assistant said and didn’t argue once.” He kissed his wife and daughter. “You all look pretty. Lorri, I’m supposed to tell you as soon as the song starts again, it’s your turn, then Jenny after you. So, Mom, you ready to do this thing?”
Emma’s eyes glimmered with tears. “What’s going on?”
“What’s going on, Gran, is a ‘real wedding.’ It’s being videotaped, so you’ll be able to see the whole thing later. For now, just enjoy.” Jenny kissed Emma’s cheek, then followed her mother up the aisle created by the placement of the tables and chairs.
The room was full. At least half the congregation of Crockett Community Church and nearly all the Rusty Buckets were there—including Mary Jean at the piano—plus more friends and a few relatives from Michigan who’d been driving ever since Jenny called them. Some of Jenny’s students and their families were there—Emma was class grandmother and they all loved her. There were many people Jenny didn’t know, too, ones Zeke had called as they sat in the restaurant.
Oh, Zeke. Wow. He wore a dark suit that fit…well. Really well.
He stood between his grandfather and another Travis McNeil lookalike. That must be Seth, the “nicer, smarter” brother, who had flown in from Scotland as a surprise for his grandfather even before Zeke and Jenny had made their calls.
The stylists and manicurists were there, too, as well as the women from the tearoom and several from the inn’s staff. Pastor Mike from Crockett Community Church, who should have been on his way to spend Thanksgiving weekend with his in-laws, waited on Travis’s other side. His wife was among the attendees, and she didn’t look as if she minded being there.
It was, for two people whom Jenny no longer doubted would have a lovely marriage, truly a “real wedding.”
The ceremony was both spiritual and funny. In the course of the vows, the bride and groom even extracted promises from Lucas to “behave himself” and from Seth, Zeke and Jenny to be “good grandchildren” who never made liars out of their grandparents if said grandparents bragged about them.
At the end, after a steamy kiss and a round of applause, the bride and groom walked down the aisle together while Mary Jean played “We Gather Together.” Zeke extended his arm and Jenny took it.
“So,” he said under cover of the music and laughter that surrounded them, “how about dinner on Friday? Just the two of us. No family, no friends, no keys locked in cars. A real date.”
Charlotte approached, still carrying her flower basket, and Jenny swung the little girl to her hip, hugging her close. “Do you think I should go out with Mr. McNeil, Charley?”
“Yes.” The little girl nodded solemnly, her ponytails bobbing. “Grandma Emma says he’s a fireman. That means he’ll keep you safe.”
Open your eyes, pretty girl. I’ll keep you safe. That was it. That was why he was so familiar.
“Well, then.” Jenny nodded decisively. “I guess the answer’s yes, Zeke, but you have to keep me safe.”
“I can do that.” He smiled at Charlotte. “You look very pretty today.”
“I know.” She beamed at him. “Miss Boyle doesn’t get mad at you if you throw up. You should probably marry her.”
“Thank you, Miss Charley.” He leaned in to kiss Jenny, his arm going around her waist and tucking her into his side, where she felt as though she totally belonged. When he drew back, his eyes smiled down into hers. “I think maybe I will.”
EPILOGUE
One year later Turkey
Run State Park
Seth McNeil frowned across the breakfast table in the Narrows at his brother and Jenny. “This is serious business.”
“Of course it is,” Zeke agreed. “In the event of a divorce, Jenny absolutely cannot have my Mustang. If you’d seen her drive, you’d know why.”
“And Zeke can’t have my grandmother even if she does like him best,” said Jenny primly. “I had her first.”
“I get half your grandmother.” Seth made notes.
Zeke scowled at him. “You’re not in this.”
“Yes, I am. I’m writing up this prenup for free and this is my second Thanksgiving in Turkey Run State Park where I have to pay for my own room and buy my own meals. Plus, I wrote out Pap’s new will—it says I get half of Nana.”
His brother sat up straight. “You’re my best man, my lawyer and my brother—doesn’t that mean you’re paying for my room and meals, too? I’m a firefighter and you’re a lawyer and we’re paid accordingly—it makes sense to me that you’d do these things pro bono. I won’t charge you if you ever need someone to get a cat out of a tree. I might for a fire, but—”
Jenny cleared her throat before the conversation could descend deeper into the ridiculous. “If he gets Nana, I want Pap.”
“That works. That was in the will, too.” Zeke nodded agreement. “But you have to keep your father.”
“Well, that’s it. All bets are off.” Jenny grinned at Seth and hooked her arms around Zeke’s neck. “Since neither of us will take Dad, we’d better stay married.”
They signed the handwritten docume
nt, hugged each other to make it legal, and parted to get ready for the wedding. Jenny ran back to invite the waitress, who assured her many of the staff would be in attendance.
It had been a short and exciting year. Zeke had come to Crockett for his days off, Jenny had spent weekends in Chicago. When an opening came up in May at the Crawfordsville Fire Department, Zeke applied for and got it. He bought Emma’s house and asked Jenny to please marry him and live with him in it so Seth could use her apartment when he came to visit.
“I don’t really want to get married,” he’d said, “but Seth’s a terrible houseguest and he snores. I’d rather take my chances with you.”
When Jenny said no, he showed up in her classroom with two other firefighters and asked her students to plead his case. Charlotte held out for a ride on a fire engine, but in the end, they all did. Even if Jenny could resist him, he figured, she could never resist her kids.
He was right.
Their wedding was even less conventional than the one a year ago. The bride and groom walked in together, accompanied by Seth and Jenny’s best friend from college. Their only music was Jenny’s class singing “We Gather Together.” The bride and groom waved at the friends assembled in the same room where Emma and Travis had wed, then stood with their attendants, Emma and Jenny’s parents to make their vows. Travis, who had become a justice of the peace because he thought it sounded interesting, officiated.
They left for their honeymoon after breakfast with the family on Thanksgiving morning, Jenny’s turquoise beach suitcase in the back of the SUV that had been the family’s wedding gift to them. Their bicycles rode on the rack. Before they turned onto the highway, Zeke handed her an envelope.
She opened it and read the note inside. She had to blink back tears. “When did you remember?”
“Nana said something at Thanksgiving dinner last year about you and her tandem jumping when you graduated. I remembered telling my brother about the girl with green eyes, but it was a while before I was sure you were her. I didn’t think you remembered.”
“I didn’t right away. I just knew you looked familiar. Felt familiar. Kind of like my heartbeat.”
“So it wasn’t love at first sight or in twenty-four hours.” He tried for a sad expression, though his eyes danced. “It took us eight years.” He leaned over to kiss her, sweet and lingering. “But we’ve got the rest of our lives to keep it going.”
She tucked the note up on the visor, knowing it would stay there until the ink faded away. Even then, she would remember every word. Keep your eyes open, pretty girl. We’ll keep each other safe.
She leaned to kiss him. “Happy Thanksgiving. Let’s get started.”
* * * * *
If you enjoyed this story, you’ll love Every Time We Say Goodbye by USA TODAY bestselling author Liz Flaherty. Available in paperback and digitally at Harlequin.com and through online retailers everywhere
Italian Sausage and Cabbage by Liz Flaherty
I cook this in the oven, but I keep it warm in a Crock-Pot. You can add all kinds of things to this to personalize it (cheese, potatoes, onions, etc.), but if you’re in a hurry, it’s great the way it is.
Yield: 4–6 Servings
Ingredients
6–8 lean Italian sausages—hot, mild or a mixture; cook’s choice
1 head of cabbage, cut into wedges or chunks
2 cups water
3 tablespoons butter
Directions
1. Preheat oven to 350°F.
2. Place sausages in the bottom of a Dutch oven or a casserole. Place cabbage over the sausage and add water. Dot cabbage with butter, cover, and bake for 1 hour and 15 minutes.
Note: The size of the pan you use depends on how much cabbage you have, but you want to be able to have the pan full yet cover it completely. I use a mid-sized graniteware roasting pan.
Another note: I use at least a tablespoon more butter than the recipe calls for. I like a little decadence in my cabbage!
Her Thanksgiving Soldier
By Leigh Riker
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Recipe: Thanksgiving Leftovers Casserole
CHAPTER ONE
The back of his neck prickled.
Every muscle in his body tensed. Caleb Henderson had lived with that feeling, night and day, on patrols and in base camps around the world. In dead-cold winters and desert-hot summers. Surrounded by rocks, in places where everything was some shade of ugly brown and all but smelled of danger.
This tingle just under his skin, though, wasn’t quite the same.
Standing on the porch in this quiet neighborhood near Scottsdale—where the desert landscaping only reminded him of where he’d been—he sensed someone behind him. Caleb spun around.
And there she was.
“Daisy?” When he’d left to join the military, she’d still been a teenager with gangly legs and doe eyes. “Daisy McCall.” So she was still here.
“And you are…?” she said.
That stopped him.
She looked him over, from his short-cropped hair to his cowboy boots. The roping heels added another inch to his six-foot height. Everything on the outside looked the same, even after his years in black-ops. As for the inside…he didn’t want to go there.
“It’s me,” he finally said. “Caleb. Henderson.”
She grinned. “I was kidding.” Then she threw her arms around his neck—stepped back just as fast—and the prickling went away. “What are you doing here? I can’t believe it’s you!”
He shrugged. “I’m on leave. Passing through. Your brother around?”
She shook her head. “Jared’s in California. On business.”
“Oh.” If you ever need a place to stay…Long ago Jared had promised him a bed, a hot meal, even a beer or two. Anytime.
“He’ll be home for Thanksgiving.”
Caleb stared.
She waved a hand in front of his face. “You know, the holiday? Harvest home. Kick-off for the Christmas season.” She kept going. “Turkey Day. Stuffing and cranberries. Pumpkin pie.”
“Oh,” he said again. “Right. We always have turkey dinner—even when the bullets are flying.” Which was one reason for this leave. Maybe he’d had enough. Maybe it was time to get out, retire from his elite, top secret black-ops team, but that would mean making another hard decision.
“Well, I’ll…you can…just tell Jared I said hey.” He headed down the steps, his shoulder brushing hers as he passed, sending another wave of awareness through him.
That was something new and more dangerous than an ambush. In his line of work Caleb didn’t see many women. The few he did encounter either weren’t his type or were not the kind a guy took home to meet his mama. As if he had a mother or a home.
And wasn’t he the guest of honor at his own pity party?
Halfway down the front steps, he felt her hand on his shoulder.
Caleb whirled.
Her eyes wide with alarm, Daisy backed up, fell off the step then landed hard in the gravel.
He reached out a hand to help her up. Her arm had connected with a barrel cactus and the skin was now flecked with fine, hairy spines. He wanted to shout medic! But he managed to control the urge.
“I was going to say ‘wait,’” she murmured, pushing her hair behind one ear. That beautiful shade of brown shot through with gold. She had warm brown eyes, which he remembered too well.
“Sorry, I’m a bit jumpy. You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing. I’ve done worse while I was gardening—or pushing one of my patients to try harder.”
“You’re a doctor now?”
“Manager,” she said. “I run the Sonoran Desert Rehab Center.” She smiled. “‘You can do more than you think you can.’ That’s our motto.”
She was still smiling, but her lips had turned white.
“Let’s get you into the house,” he said. “
You have a pair of tweezers?”
“Yes. But—”
“Let’s go, soldier.”
He guided Daisy inside, sat her on the living room sofa then followed her directions to the bathroom, where he found a small first aid kit.
“Don’t fuss,” she said as he re-examined her arm. “You live in Arizona, you learn to deal with cactus spines.”
“Don’t be stoic. If it hurts, you can yell. I’ve heard plenty of yelling.”
Every guy he’d ever known who’d stepped on an IED or been shot by a sniper, first thing he’d done was cry for his mother. It was a reflex or some kind of primal instinct. Caleb had always wondered whom he’d yell for when his time came. But then, it never had. Not yet.
“Hold still.”
“You don’t have to tweeze them all. They’ll sting for a while, but I’ll be fine.”
He didn’t stop. Once he’d gently swabbed her skin with antiseptic, he peered closer, looking for stray cactus spines. “Think I got ‘em,” he said. “You okay?”
“Perfect.”
Caleb raised an eyebrow. “Are you still this cheerful all the time?”
“It’s still my nature.” She drew her arm from his grasp. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Would I do that?”
She grinned. “I don’t know about now but you used to. You and Jared.”
“You were a girl. It was our duty—our obligation—to make life difficult.”
“To tease,” she said. “You guys were merciless.”
“Yeah.” Which didn’t seem to bother her. If only life had stayed that simple, that…he couldn’t say good. Except for Jared and Daisy, it hadn’t been so good then either.
His gaze drifted over her, taking in the changes the years had brought. Her figure was slim, and her legs were no longer gangly. Nice, he thought.
Caleb jumped to his feet. “If you’re really okay, I better get going.”
“To where?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Into Phoenix, I guess. For tonight.”