A Heartwarming Thanksgiving

by Amy Vastine

  “That’s one mother of a storm,” he grumbled, pulling off gloves that reeked of gasoline. “Generator’s up.”

  She tied on an apron. “So we can cook?”

  His mouth twisted below a horseshoe mustache. “Power went out around four hours ago, so the food’s still good. Might have enough juice for the turkeys.”

  “And we made the stuffing yesterday.”

  “And the butternut squash.”

  “And the mashed potatoes. We’ll put them in coolers on the porch to keep them from spoiling,” she added and breathed easier. Okay. They would manage, even if she couldn’t reheat in the microwave as planned. Good thing they’d brought in the brined turkeys last night as a precaution.

  “The oven takes four thousand watts so we can’t run the furnace, too,” Rowdy grumbled.

  She thought fast. “What about the wood stove?”

  Rowdy considered that for a moment and nodded. “We’ve got a couple cords left over from last year. That should keep the restaurant warm.”

  “And the ovens will heat the kitchen.”

  “Just about.”

  “Have you seen Eric?”

  Rowdy frowned. “Nope.”

  She swallowed down a rising ball of fear. He was fine. If he’d headed out to search again, he’d send word.

  At a knock on the front door, Maggie’s heart beat like a wild thing. Eric.

  But another fireman stood at the entrance, twisting his cap.

  “Chief?”

  He smoothed his white beard. “Maggie, I—”

  “Have you seen Eric?”

  He exhaled heavily and she noticed the dark circles under his eyes. When his large hand settled on her shoulder, she flinched. Braced herself.

  “Eric didn’t report in last night when we called off the search.”

  “You mean…” She couldn’t finish the dangerous thought.

  “He’s been out for over twelve hours. We resumed the search at dawn, but in these conditions—”

  “No,” she said, stopping whatever bad thing he intended to say. “You’ll find him. Or he’ll find you. Either way, he’s going to come through this.”

  Certainty fired every word, fear a silent shadow behind it. But she couldn’t fall apart. She had to hold it together for the kids.

  “He’s a tough son-of-a-gun.”

  “That he is.”

  The chief raised a tired smile. “Keep thinking positively and we’ll send word when we get it. You’re still having the dinner?” He raised a thick eyebrow, white against his florid skin.

  She nodded firmly. “Absolutely. We’re not letting the kids down no matter—” her throat tightened and she paused “—no matter what. And when you see Eric, tell him he’s late.”

  The chief’s mouth quirked. “You’re one tough cookie.”

  It was the highest compliment he could give her. Katharine Hepburn had been tough, too. “Thank you, sir. Happy Thanksgiving.”

  He donned his hat and headed out the door, calling, “Happy Thanksgiving” over his shoulder.

  When Maggie turned, Rowdy stood in the kitchen doorway, concern creasing his face. “You going to be okay?”

  She grabbed one of her kerchiefs, tied back her hair and marched Rowdy’s way.

  “Fine,” she said, nearly meaning it. She had to focus on the kids and trust that Eric would come back to her.

  * * *

  Eric stared at his cell phone’s blank screen and lurched forward on stinging legs. A deep shiver rose from the base of his spine and rattled his teeth. His boots slipped on the bottom of the narrow crevice he’d rappelled down last night to rescue the injured hiker.

  Would they make it out alive?

  His broken anchor latch, lodged in the rock fifteen feet overhead, mocked him. Beside the prone hiker lay Eric’s radio, shattered when his rope gave way and he fell.

  Had his search partner gotten Eric’s SOS before he’d lowered himself for the grab? After twelve hours, the possibility looked grim.

  Eric took stock: Remote location. No communication. Inclement weather. Inaccessible escape route. Deteriorating health. A bad situation. One of the worst he’d ever faced.

  He’d lost feeling in his hands an hour ago. His legs would give out soon, too. Even if the ice coating the walls melted, he couldn’t climb out. Plus, the hiker, Larry, had a broken leg. At Larry’s moan, Eric squatted, his pulse speeding.

  “Hang in there, buddy.”

  Larry’s eyelids fluttered then closed again. “Don’t sleep,” Eric said. He struggled to remove his gloves then ripped them off with his teeth. He pressed his shaking forearm to Larry’s burning head.

  High temp.

  Lack of consciousness.

  Blue-tinged skin.

  Hypothermia and shock.

  Eric peered at the azure sky peeking between the cedar-scented boughs overhead. The weather had improved but his circumstances couldn’t be worse. Larry needed medical attention stat or he’d die.

  A scream ripped from Eric’s lungs. The world closed in around him and he strove to control his breathing.

  He struck his fingers against his thigh, tried maneuvering them into his gloves and quit. Were they cold? He could hardly tell. Panic stole into his gut. Another violent shudder tore through him.

  No.

  He had to keep his wits. Walk. Move. Frosty breath ghosted the air as he marched around the dim space. Numbness dulled his toes and he stumbled over loose rocks.

  Maggie.

  If these were his last thoughts, let them be of her.

  Had his text to her gone through? Last night’s sleet had interfered with his signal, dropping his calls to the search and rescue team.

  “I’m sorry,” he’d typed when it became obvious he might not make it back. “I was wrong to raise your hopes about a future together. Even if I make it out, this could happen again. I should never have done this to you.”

  If she got the message, would she understand?

  He pictured his mother, crying for months after his father’s death and then, worse still, her silence as she’d retreated to her bedroom. She’d rarely come out until she’d finally checked herself into a mental rehabilitation facility.

  Would Maggie fall apart like that? She was stronger than his mother, but she’d never been tested like this. It killed him to imagine the woman he loved fading away as his mother had.

  Worse.

  He’d caused it.

  He shouldn’t have gotten involved with Maggie again.

  Even if a miracle happened—even if he did get out of here—he’d never be the safe family man Maggie deserved. And worrying about her would steal the focus his risky job demanded.

  Regret settled hard and cold in his gut. Raising Maggie’s hopes for a committed relationship was dead wrong when he knew, deep down, he’d never be able to leave his job. It was in his blood.

  Suddenly, a shout interrupted his thoughts.

  Rescue.

  His heart leapt then fell. If his future couldn’t include Maggie, it was already too late to save him from the empty life that stretched ahead.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Ten hours later, the chief drove Eric back from the hospital. Most of the ice had melted and the world glistened in the purpling twilight.

  “Surprised they released you that quick.” His boss cranked up the defroster on the fogging windshield.

  “I didn’t give them a choice.” He needed to get to Maggie. “How’s Maggie holding up? Not doing too bad?”

  Chief Redmond stopped tapping along to country rock music and glanced at him sideways.

  “Maggie? She’s doing great.”

  “Great?” Surprise stiffened Eric’s joints. “Have you talked to her?”

  The chief slapped his knee. “Son, I’m the one that told her you were missing.”

  He flinched, imagining the tears. The chief’s inept attempts at comfort. Poor Maggie. “Sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be. She took the news like a trooper
. Didn’t bat an eye. Told me the dinner would go on as planned. In fact, she wanted me to tell you that you were late.”

  “Late?”

  A chuckle rumbled from the chief. “Yep. She never doubted you’d be back. That gal’s got guts.”

  Chief Redmond’s words bounced around Eric’s head, knocked the wind out of him. Maggie had faith in him while he’d doubted her. Could she be as strong as the chief described?

  Minutes later, he paused in The Homestead’s threshold. The smell of roasted turkey greeted him like a handshake. Heat emanated from a roaring woodstove, warming him fully, for the first time all day. Chattering children wiggled on seats around painted tablecloths where candles glowed in the centers.

  And then…Maggie emerged wearing a blue dress, her hair swept into a loose side bun that highlighted her beautiful face. He coughed, realizing he’d stopped breathing.

  He returned Vivie Harris’s greeting and shook hands with her husband, Liam, without tearing his eyes off Maggie.

  She’d done it.

  Pulled off this incredible meal without power and without knowing if he’d come home…

  Chief Redmond was right. She was a gutsy gal.

  And Eric was an idiot.

  Had she gotten his text?

  * * *

  Maggie fumed as she delivered the last of the cranberry sauce, trying to ignore Eric.

  Of course she’d been relieved when her recharged phone buzzed with word he’d been found. Her knees had given out and she’d sat on the ground, her head spinning, until Rowdy helped her up.

  But then, she’d noticed a new text message.

  From Eric.

  Reading between the lines, she understood that, “I shouldn’t have done this to you” meant “We shouldn’t have gotten back together because you can’t handle tough times.”

  At her angry sigh, Hannah grabbed the listing cranberry sauce and placed it on the table.

  Didn’t Eric have any faith in her at all?

  Had he thought she’d fall apart…like his mother?

  She avoided his stare and headed back into the now empty kitchen. “Maggie?”

  She glanced up as Vivie’s concerned face emerged around the swing door. “We’re ready for the blessing.”

  Maggie released a long breath. “Yes. Coming.”

  “Are you alright?”

  Maggie forced a smile at her pregnant friend who, according to the most recent doctor visit, should not be on her feet. “Great. Really. I’ll be right out.”

  Vivie advanced, cradling her round belly. “I’ll wait.”

  Maggie’s mouth dropped open. “So you’re playing the pregnancy card?”

  Vivie shrugged, looking pretty in a rose-colored maternity dress. “Whatever it takes to get you out there. Are you still upset about the text?”

  “He’s an idiot.”

  “He’s a man.”

  “You say that like it’s the same thing.”

  “Sometimes it is.”

  Maggie sighed. “True enough. Thank goodness for friends.” She slid an arm around Vivie. “Happy Thanksgiving, sweetie.”

  Vivie smiled and hugged Maggie back. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

  As they entered the room, the sound of a fork clanging against a glass quieted the noisy group. Maggie sat next to Liam and Vivie, noting Eric’s close position.

  “First of all,” the chief said, “I’d like to give thanks to Maggie and Vivie, their staff and the guys from my company who managed not to screw—”

  At his wife’s sharp glance, he checked himself.

  “Who managed not to mess up putting on the best Thanksgiving dinner I’ve ever seen, despite the weather. I also want to thank the search and rescue team for saving our missing hiker who, I’m glad to report, is recovering in the hospital with a meal not as good as this. Still. He’s alive and that’s thanks, most of all, to Lieutenant Eric Langley, the most thick-headed, stubborn son-of-a-gun I’ve ever had the honor to work with.”

  “Hear, hear!” the adults shouted while the children whooped and clapped their hands.

  Eric’s face reddened and his eyes swerved to hers. When he stood, the applause tapered off.

  “There’s a lot I’m thankful for,” he began.

  She flushed and studied her hands, twisting them in her lap. She loved him so much…but she wouldn’t be with a man who didn’t believe in her.

  “A great woman once said that love isn’t about what you expect to get; it’s what you expect to give—everything.”

  “Katharine Hepburn,” Maggie exclaimed, glancing at Eric sharply. By now even the littlest kids gaped at the two of them.

  He nodded, a slow smile drawing up the corners of his mouth. “I was actually thinking of you, Maggie. You shared that quote with me. In fact, you’ve given me everything. Support, love and most of all, your faith. You’ve always believed in me and I’m sorry for ever doubting you. I want to give you everything, too, including me, if you’ll have me.”

  When he pushed back his chair, the kids oohed and aahed around them. Maggie flushed. What was he doing? She tried to read his expression, but all she saw was his love for her. He wanted her forgiveness. Knew he was wrong to doubt her. And when he’d said “give you everything” did he mean…

  He got down on one knee before her, held her hands in his, and her heart skipped more than a few beats at the tender expression on his handsome face. “Maggie James. You’re the only one who knows my heart from the inside. Better than me. I love you with all that I am and can’t imagine me without you. Will you make me the happiest man…do me the honor of being my wife and the mother of our children?”

  A loud whoop broke out. Tears overflowed her eyes and dripped down her cheeks. He wanted her. Wanted a life with her. A real one, full of children. It was too much and, for the second time in three days, speech failed her.

  “She can’t say yes. You don’t have a ring!” Hannah hollered. She stood atop her chair and swished her arms like a referee calling foul.

  “Here. I won this from a machine.” Taylor tossed a plastic ring at Eric. “Can we eat now?” He waved a fork that dripped suspiciously with gravy.

  Laughter rang around the table. Eric cocked his head as his voice took on a playful note. “If Maggie says yes.” He brushed a soft kiss against her knuckles and his brown eyes rose to search hers. “Will you, Mags?”

  She nodded hard and, as he slid the ring on her finger, peace stole through her, followed by the sweetest happiness. “One lifetime with you isn’t enough, but it will have to do,” she teased back, her voice hoarse from emotion overload. “I love you…so… Yes.”

  “Kiss. Kiss. Kiss,” the firemen chanted, and to her utter delight, Eric swept her into his arms and did just that.

  “You know,” she whispered later, when they sat across from Taylor and Hannah. “We could start a family sooner rather than later.”

  He followed her gaze and smiled, the light in his eyes melting her heart. “Funny. I was thinking the same thing…”

  * * * * *

  If you loved Thankful for You by award-winning author Karen Rock, don’t miss A Cowboy to Keep, available from Harlequin Heartwarming in February 2017!

  Dinner Rolls by Karen Rock

  Ingredients

  1 cup milk

  ¼ cup shortening

  ¼ cup sugar

  2 teaspoons salt

  Approximately 6 cups of all –purpose flour

  1 package of yeast (rapid rise)

  1 cup lukewarm water

  1 egg, beaten

  1 tablespoon melted butter

  Directions

  1. Scald milk in a small pan. Mix in shortening, sugar and salt. Remove from heat. Cool to lukewarm.

  2. Pour liquid mixture into a large bowl and mix with spoon. Add 1 cup of flour. Mix well with a spoon.

  3. In the meantime, stir yeast into lukewarm water in small bowl.

  4. Add beaten egg and dissolved yeast to milk mixture. Mix well. Add the rest of the flo
ur, one cup at a time, until the dough is soft.

  5. Knead the dough on a lightly floured surface for 10 minutes. Put the dough ball in a large greased bowl. Cover with plastic wrap. Allow to rise in a warm spot until it has doubled in size (approximately 60 to 90 minutes).

  6. Preheat oven to 400°F and grease three 8” cake pans.

  7. Punch dough down. Let rise again until it has doubled in size. Pinch off portions and form into golf ball–sized rolls.

  8. Place in cake pans, keeping each roll a half inch away from the sides and from other rolls. Bake for 10 minutes or until the tops are golden brown. Brush tops with melted butter when removed from oven.

  Autumn at Jasper Lake

  By Carol Ross

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Recipe: Pecan Tarts

  CHAPTER ONE

  The plane banked slightly, offering a stunning view of the sun draping its golden glow over snowcapped mountain peaks. To the west, the deep blue of the ocean shimmered like an endless bed of finely cut crystals. Buildings nestled together on the edge of a small bay formed the core of a little town. Ryder Shelton had seen a lot of the world in his two tours, but this bird’s eye view of Rankins, Alaska, was hands down the prettiest.

  Endless acres of lush forest soon came into focus along the marshy, lightly-iced shoreline of Jasper Lake, a small lake about twelve miles outside of town. A moose standing knee-deep in the lake languidly lifted his head, then let it dip back down again, obviously used to the sound of the small floatplane’s engine. The pontoons touched down on the lake’s surface with a slight skip and then the plane was gliding smoothly across the surface of the lake. Toward his new home. Something seemed to shift and then settle peacefully inside of him.

  Thoughts of Dell immediately surfaced; his closest friend and teammate lying in a hospital bed as tubes and wires and the sheer force of his wife Brianna’s will kept him alive. And Brianna screaming at him and demanding that he leave the hospital room. Ryder knew that true peace, for him, was just not possible. The best he could hope for was to somehow learn to live with the grief and the guilt, the flashbacks and the nightmares.