A Heartwarming Thanksgiving

by Amy Vastine

  Ruthie watched her sister sway through the guests, hugging one, pressing a kiss to another’s cheek. Becca was doing exactly what she did best and Ruthie was doing the same.

  “You miss the good moments when you spend so much time worrying.”

  Ruthie crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Matt. “Becca tells me the same thing all the time.”

  “Maybe you should listen to her.”

  “Maybe you should talk to Becca if you want to hear her,” Ruthie snapped.

  He came right into her space then, backing her up against the island before leaning in. “I am not Justin Cook, Ruthie. Don’t compare me to him. Don’t put me in the same box. Heck, don’t even put us in the same thought inside your head.”

  “I never…”

  “You just did,” he said. “And we both know it. Now it stops.”

  She lifted her chin. “Tell me you never once thought Becca was the better twin.”

  “I thought Becca had more spirit. I thought Becca commanded a room. I thought Becca was impulsive.” He set his hands on the granite island behind her, boxing her in. “But better, no I never thought she was better.”

  “Not even when I told Ms. Berg you copied off my test in biology.”

  “I did copy your answers.” One side of his mouth lifted, laughter rolled through his voice. “How do you think I passed that class?”

  “Don’t you have any guilt?”

  “Only regret that you weren’t in more of my classes.” He traced his fingers down her temple and hooked her hair behind her ear.

  She leaned into his touch, as if he’d hooked her heart and reeled her into him. “I wasn’t prom queen.”

  “You were Valedictorian.” He tucked more hair behind her other ear. “Now you have a PhD and I should call you doc.”

  His hands rested on the back of her neck, his touch light, gentle and distracting. “I like conducting research more than I like being with people.”

  “I only care that you like being with me.” Matt held her stare. “That you want to be with me.”

  “I make plans. I survive by lists. I live by the rules. And you…”

  “I want to be with you.” He wasn’t laughing. His lips were firm and set, his hazel gaze serious and intense.

  “Why?”

  “Because you hate motorcycles. Because you inspire me to be better. Because I love you.” Surprise flashed across his face, finally drawing his smile wide. “Because when I say I love you, Ruthie Cain, it feels right. It feels more right than anything in my life.”

  He’d twisted her into too many knots. Certainly she’d misheard him. She couldn’t think with him so close. She couldn’t breathe around the swelling in her heart. She couldn’t…

  “Ruthie,” he said.

  There was more than warmth in his tone, more than longing in his voice. Was he going to say it again? Did she want him to say the words again? She held her breath, even her heart paused mid-beat. Everything inside her waiting for him to continue.

  His gaze shifted above her head then settled back on her.

  “Yes?” Her own voice carried no more strength than a puff of steam.

  One corner of his mouth tipped up, distracting her. “Your water is boiling over.”

  Ruthie turned and watched the water spill over the sides of the two large pots on the stove. The gas flame hissed. She raced around the island.

  Matt laughed. “If you needed my help in here, you only had to ask.”

  “I’ve got it.” She turned off the heat, wishing it was as easy to extinguish the emotions boiling over inside her.

  “Do you?” he asked.

  His serious voice pulled her focus to him. He wasn’t talking about the dinner or the wedding or anything to do with her sister. She needed to think, not skip across rainbows like her heart wanted to. “Yes, I’ve got it.”

  “Make a new plan, Ruthie. Write a new list,” he said. “Add a new rule. Do whatever you have to because I meant every word. And now you’re going to have to deal with it.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Ruthie shifted her weight from one foot to the other and tried to absorb the picturesque view behind Becca and Steve. The wedding site was breath-taking with its panoramic view of the lake and the white puffy clouds filling the sky. A perfect day for a perfect couple.

  Everything should have been sigh worthy. But Ruthie winced. Her pink tennis shoes had rubbed blisters into her heels on the two mile trek up the mountain trail. And each time she moved, her skin throbbed. But the pain was not nearly as distracting as the man standing beside her.

  Every time she inhaled, she breathed in Matt’s spicy cologne. When she moved, she only ever seemed to bring herself closer to him. And every time she tried to listen to the ceremony, she only heard Matt’s whispered confession that he loved her. Loved her.

  She’d wimped out last evening and avoided being alone with him. She’d wanted to reason things through first and then she’d talk to him. She’d planned to do just that when she’d crawled into bed last night. And instead she’d stared at the ceiling with a goofy grin on her face as her heart skipped around in her chest. She’d done very little thinking and way more sighing last night, more than she’d done when her sister and Steve exchanged their own hand-written vows only moments ago.

  Ruthie needed to focus. She pressed on Duke’s back, forcing him into a sitting position. Lady flopped near Matt’s boots and chewed on his shoe laces. Across the clearing Ella sat in a camp chair Ruthie’s father had carried up while Sophie stood behind her daughter. The mothers each sat in their own camp chairs beside Ella, with their husbands standing sentry behind them. Matt’s mother held Mr. Wright’s hand, while Ruthie’s mother pressed a tissue underneath her sunglasses. Steve and Becca bowed their heads while the minister lifted his hand over them and murmured a prayer.

  Matt leaned over and brushed Ruthie’s hair off her shoulder then whispered in her ear. “No dogs.”

  “What?” she whispered back.

  “Dogs won’t be allowed at our wedding.” He twisted a strand of her hair around his fingers.

  Her insides twisted with each curve of his fingers. The words: our wedding flip-flopped through her, clattering and repeating and disrupting every rational thought.

  Matt continued, as if he never noticed her slight sway or her small gasp. “Hiking boots will not be a requirement. No mountains either. You need to be high on me, not from lack of oxygen.”

  She suffered from a certain lack of air right now and it had nothing to do with the elevation. “Where will we be then?”

  “A place with candlelight and stars.” He unwound her hair, then started all over again. “Some place historical like we stepped into one of those history books you used to like to read.”

  Ruthie tightened her grip on Duke’s leash, searching for something to ground her. She felt like she might be floating towards those stars now. “Anything else?”

  “Ella should be our flower girl.” He smiled over at the little girl swinging her feet in the chair. “She’s the most precious addition to this wedding, except she needs a real princess gown and tiara, not that simple cotton thing your sister put on her.”

  Ruthie wiped her hand over her mouth to cover her laugh. Matt’s mother glanced over at Ruthie and Matt. Her round sunglasses hid her eyes, but her mouth dipped into that familiar mother’s frown of disapproval. Ruthie nudged Matt, but kept her focus on the ring exchange between Becca and Steve. “Your mom wants you to behave.”

  “I am.” He released her hair, set his hand on her waist and pulled her fully into his side. “Did I mention your white dress and veil like the one Duke ruined only longer so it feels like you stepped into your own fairy tale.”

  The minister announced Becca and Steve as husband and wife then invited Steve to kiss his bride. The parents clapped, except for her mother who wiped at both of her eyes.

  “Sounds like you have it all planned,” Ruthie said. “Where will you be while I’m stepping into m
y own fairy tale?”

  Matt tipped her chin up with his thumb. Their lips were only inches apart. His gaze was intense and consuming and full of love. “At the altar waiting for you.”

  And then it happened. Maybe it was the elevation. Or Matt’s touch. Or the magic in the moment. Whatever the reason, Ruthie stopped thinking and listened to her heart. Followed her heart. Finally spoke from her heart. “It’s always been you.”

  She pulled him to her and covered his mouth with her own, putting all of the love in her heart into the kiss. They were both breathless when she pulled away. “I love you too.”

  He pressed a soft kiss on her mouth and grinned at her. “Do you need to check your list to make sure?”

  “I don’t have to.” She laced her fingers with his. “It’s written on my heart.”

  “And mine now too.” He kissed their joined hands.

  Steve shook hands with his new father-in-law and Becca rushed over to Ruthie and Matt. She handed Ruthie her sunflower bouquet. “Looks like I won’t need to toss this tonight after all.” She hugged Matt then Ruthie. “About time you two discovered what we’ve always known: you were made for each other.” One more hug and Becca returned to her new husband.

  “Sunflowers are nice, but hardly inspiring of a fairytale.” Matt squeezed their joined hands.

  Ruthie set her head on his shoulder. Matt was her inspiration. Already she pictured a cascading bouquet of wisteria and lilies and ivy. He’d described her perfect wedding, but she intended to plan the wedding of his dreams.

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed this story, Cari Lynn Webb has a touching novella, The Matchmaker Wore Skates in Harlequin Heartwarming’s Make Me a Match. Available in paperback and digitally for order online at Harlequin.com and through online retailers everywhere.

  Creamed Corn by Cari Lynn Webb

  My sister-in-law gave me this recipe for creamed corn after I spent a Thanksgiving holiday with her family. After I married and started a family, I added this dish to our Thanksgiving and it quickly became a family favorite. It’s been on our Thanksgiving table the past sixteen years. Hope you enjoy!

  Yield: About 11 cups

  Ingredients

  2 packages of frozen corn (20 ounces each)

  8 ounces heavy whipping cream

  8 ounces milk

  1 teaspoon salt

  6 tablespoons sugar

  Pinch of pepper

  2 tablespoons butter, melted

  2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

  Directions

  In a large saucepan combine the first six ingredients and bring to a boil. Boil for 5 minutes and then blend in the melted butter and flour. Heat through and serve.

  The Sweetheart Tree

  By Rula Sinara

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Epilogue

  Recipe: Gluten-Free Butternut Squash Cheesecake

  CHAPTER ONE

  Officer Austin Shale had slapped handcuffs on plenty of wrists—most of them hairy—but never in his wildest dreams had he imagined locking them on the soft, slender wrists of Serena Myss. Well, maybe he had imagined it once or twice, but not with her shooting daggers at him with those piercing, hazel eyes of hers. She glared at the handcuffs he’d taken off his belt.

  “You wouldn’t,” she said, giving the rope that bound her to the giant oak in the field behind their houses a fierce tug.

  She’d tightened enough knots around her that it was going to take something sharp to cut her loose and drag her to jail. If she was still the same spunky Serena he’d grown up with and fallen for, that would likely involve some kicking and screaming.

  After the all-night shift he’d pulled, this was the last kind of morning he needed. Three years of struggling to get over her and finally letting go…and now she returns home? Not that he hadn’t heard about her adventures. Unearthing things like illegal dumping and environmental villains had made her an alumni magazine and local newspaper favorite in College Town, Pennsylvania. She’d even written a popular piece on the “bureaucratic” withdrawal of funding by one university department head for local alumna Dr. Bekker’s work with elephants in Kenya. A piece that had gotten Bekker an outpouring of support. Of course, Serena’s protests and methods had put her on the wrong side of the law a number of times. Nature’s Robin Hood.

  Too bad he wasn’t a tree. She’d be all over him.

  Keeping himself grounded was impossible with her lavender scent enveloping him. Five feet away from her was dangerously close. Don’t go there. She still blames you for Gale’s death. She’ll never stay. Gale’s memory twisted in Austin’s chest and hardened his resolve.

  She glanced at the gun in his holster.

  “Don’t test me, Serena. You have thirty seconds to start cooperating or you’ll be spending the day before Thanksgiving in a jail cell.”

  He looked back at her parents, standing at the edge of their backyard where he’d asked them to stay. Giving Mr. and Mrs. Myssan order, even if he was in uniform, wasn’t something he could bring himself to do. They’d known him since he was in elementary school, when he was taken in by his grandparents, their next door neighbors. They’d watched him play year after year with Serena and her younger brother, Gale, in the empty field behind their two homes…the field that was home to the oak tree she was trying to save. They were there for him at his grandparent’s funeral last year. Serena never made it.

  He’d needed her. God, he’d needed her. But he knew that facing him at another funeral was the last thing she could handle.

  He gripped the handcuffs, stepped closer to her and lowered his voice. “Don’t do this to them. They miss you. Talk to them. Please, talk to me.”

  Her eyes flicked to where her parent’s stood and, for a second, her frown softened and he could have sworn she was about to give in. She straightened her back and shifted her feet, clearly uncomfortable in her tree-tied position but too stubborn to admit it.

  “There’s nothing to talk about unless it involves calling off the chain saws. Do that and I’ll talk,” she said, tossing her head toward the equipment and crew who were waiting impatiently on the far side of the property where the remnants of an 18th century stone cellar stood. She pressed her lips together and tipped her chin up, daring him to comply. She was offering him the one thing—only thing—he’d wanted since she’d left town. A chance to talk to her. Closure.

  He used to find her blatant challenges and attempts at reverse psychology endearing and fun. But they weren’t flirting now. He came toe-to-toe with her and her breath hitched. Good. She wasn’t the only one who understood psychology. Everyone had a weakness.

  “Why this tree, Serena?” he whispered. “With all the trees in the world and habitats you could be off trying to save, why are you here?”

  She swallowed and stared at him. He stared back. She always had the most amazing eyes that reflected the colors around her, from gray-blue to earthy green with flecks of gold.

  “Because,” she said, clearing her throat. “Quercus alba can live as long as six-hundred years. This tree is well over two hundred and deserves to live out its life. And it’s a food source and shelter to numerous species of wildlife and every part of it down to its roots has become an integral part to the micro-ecosystem of this field and the creek that runs through it. Factoring in the number of—”

  “Stop it,” Austin said, stepping back. “Spew all the environmental facts you want at me. I’m not an idiot. That contractor over there obtained all the permits and clearances necessary. If there was a reason this place couldn’t be developed or this tree taken down, I’d have heard about it. In fact, there are a few disease and root related reasons why it should be removed. And you and I both know your reasons for trying to save this tree aren’t entirely altruistic. Why don’t you admit why you’re really here.”

  “Your contractor is lying. There’s nothing wrong with this tree. The group that contacted
me didn’t mention any records of studies being done to assess the environmental impact. And what do you mean you would have heard about it? Why would you know about the development application details?” she asked.

  She raised her head and her lips parted and he itched to push away the strands of her straight, black hair, caught on the corner of her mouth. She looked at him as if he’d earned all her forgiveness and then some.

  “Unless you were trying to fight it. You were, weren’t you, Austin? You tried to stop this? You don’t want this tree coming down any more than I do. You’re only here now because you’re doing your job. Austin, call them off. We can stop this together.”

  Austin’s jaw ached and the pulse in his temple was beginning to pound. His suspicions were right. She didn’t know. Whoever in that habitat-saving student organization over at the university had alerted her to the tree coming down, they’d done so at the last minute without fully researching the situation. That was their MO. Jump in before it’s too late, then quickly nail down reasons to delay construction or development. But her mentioning no record of studies bothered him. He’d been assured all procedures had been followed.

  The hopeful look on her face and yearning in her voice just about killed him.

  Together.

  He scanned the almost bare branches overhead. A cold breeze forced the last of its red leaves to flutter down, reminding himself of where he really stood with her—in the past. He inhaled then gave her his best, don’t-mess-with-me cop face.

  “There is no together, Serena. Not since you left. I own this land now. I’m the one having the tree taken down and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

  * * *

  There was nothing natural about steel bars. Not when the wrong person was behind them. Serena pulled her knees up to her chest—shifting slightly to avoid the cot’s rogue spring—and slouched against the holding cell wall. She looked at her expedition watch then covered her face with her hands. Three hours and counting. Austin. She dug her nails into her scalp and swallowed back a frustrated sob. The oak would be dead by now…whittled down to its trunk with its branches lying in wait for the wood chipper or a firewood stack. By the time she was freed, it would have had its stump ground down. Nothing would be left. Their tree was gone…just like her brother.