A Heartwarming Thanksgiving

by Amy Vastine

  “We’re all learning from what happened to Gale. No one is to blame. His life had meaning and it still does. We’re thankful for the years we had with him and we’re thankful we still have you. I don’t have to tell you that life is short. Please don’t waste so much of it away from those who love you.”

  She slipped her arms around his waist and gave him a hug.

  “I love you and Mom. I’m sorry I’ve hurt you,” she said.

  “Wash your face and come tell your mother yourself. Make pie with her the way you used to. I know she’d like that. We love you, pumpkin…and we’re not the only ones who do,” he added when the doorbell rang.

  “We’re having company for Thanksgiving? It’s not even noon,” she said, pushing her hair off her damp face and standing up in a panic. She was a mess and her head throbbed. Her dad got up and went to her bedroom door. He opened it to leave, but paused when Austin’s voice carried up the steps as he greeted her mom.

  “We all cope differently, Serena. Austin doesn’t have anyone left. Whatever you’ve convinced yourself of, he’s a good man.”

  * * *

  Austin came up behind Serena and put his hands on her shoulders. She started, but he kept hold and drew her away from the dining room table where she was unfolding a leaf-patterned tablecloth.

  “Mind if I borrow her?” he asked.

  Serena’s mother was setting up the bare-branched, wire “Thanksgiving tree” she put out every year on the side console.

  “I’m not—” Serena tried objecting, but her mom stopped her.

  “Only if you bring her back.” Mrs. Myss finished writing what she was thankful for on one of the colorful, paper leaves she’d set in a bowl by the tree. She clipped it to one of the branches. “Food should be ready around five. And I expect you both to be here in time to put your leaves on the tree before eating.”

  Austin was grateful for a lot of things, despite the losses he’d suffered, but pouring his heart out on construction paper was about as bad as being forced to do it one at a time around the dinner table, the way Grandma had always insisted on. He figured it was a woman thing.

  “I’ll be too hungry to write by then,” he said. He let go of Serena and went over to the tree. He filled out one leaf, hung it, then just before setting the marker down, he decided to do another. He clipped it on a branch. “Your turn,” he said, holding the marker out for Serena. He didn’t like how washed out she looked. One day at home and she’d lost her spunk. Either she’d been bottling up her grief or she really hated being around him.

  “I’ll do mine later,” she said. “Don’t you need my help setting up?” Serena widened her eyes at her mom, but was gracefully ignored.

  Yep, as he suspected. She didn’t want to go anywhere with him. Could he blame her after yesterday?

  “No, I’m fine here. You go with Austin,” Mrs. Myss said, waving them away.

  Austin grabbed Serena’s hand before she could come up with excuses and led her out of the room and through the kitchen. He handed her the jacket he recognized as hers off one of the wall hooks by their kitchen door.

  “If you get sick, you’ll get stuck with me at your bedside nursing you back to health. And I’m no nurse,” he said.

  She narrowed her eyes as she pushed her arms into the jacket.

  “Why would you do that? I wouldn’t need you. My mom makes a mean soup and has plenty of bedside experience.”

  “Because if you got sick, I wouldn’t leave your side.”

  “Don’t say stuff like that.” Serena’s cheeks flushed and she couldn’t get the zipper done up. He took over, happy to see her color had returned. So, maybe she was still affected by him. He wasn’t the only one feeling the connection between them as strong as if the past few years apart hadn’t happened.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see,” he said, bringing his face to within an inch of hers. He didn’t care if her parents walked into the kitchen, he wanted to kiss her and breathe her in. He wanted to hold her face in his hands, touch his lips to hers and show her that she was his world and always had been. That no matter what happened after today, she always would be. “First stop, my place. There’s something I want to show you.”

  “Austin. That’s not a good idea,” she said, standing her ground. The pulse in her wrist raced against his fingertips and her face turned crimson and then some.

  “It’s not what you think,” he said, quickly pulling her outside. He needed the crisp air to hit him like a cold shower. He filled his lungs, as he linked his fingers in hers, and led her across the driveway. She hesitated, eyeing him carefully, before following him into his house.

  “I haven’t really changed much around here since they passed away,” he said, realizing his kitchen screamed old-fashioned grandma, rather than bachelor cop. His neck heated up as she looked around. The energy between them filled the small kitchen and he was suddenly nervous…afraid of being judged. Afraid she’d never forgive him.

  “You don’t need to change a thing.” She sighed. “I haven’t been in here in so long. It brings back a lot of memories. Good ones.” She ran her hand along the same cookie jar they’d both stolen from repeatedly as kids.

  “Yeah.” He nodded, but emotion got in the way of his words. This was the Serena he knew. The old Serena. The one who’d loved his family as much as he did. The one who was forgiving, fun and kind-hearted. “Come into the living room a minute. I found something last night.”

  She followed him into the next room. All the boxes and albums he’d pulled out of the attic covered the coffee table and recliner.

  “I couldn’t sleep last night,” he explained.

  “I can’t do this,” she said, shaking her head. “I didn’t do so well looking at old photos last night.”

  He put his hands on her arms and rubbed them up and down.

  “You don’t have to look at anything you don’t want to. I’m not planning to make you go through these. I…I just needed to. Last night, I needed to make sense of things. What happened. My entire life. My thoughts were a mess, so I started looking at photos.” He smoothed away her frown lines with his thumb. “I wanted to find that one of us dressed as Sonny and Cher for Halloween senior year.” That was the year they’d officially gone from best friends to couple.

  “I didn’t even need a wig,” she said, cracking a smile. Her long black hair had been perfect for the part.

  “You looked perfect,” he said, wishing he’d found the photo. He reached down and picked up a loose stack out of a small box from his grandparents’ closet. “I found these instead. I don’t recall ever seeing them before, unless Gran had shown me when I was younger and I forgot.”

  He watched as she flipped through the photos. Some were faded and clearly taken with an old camera. Black and whites. Sepia tones. A few so old and tattered on the edges that Gran had them in a protective plastic sleeve with a date on the corner.

  “Notice anything?” he asked.

  “They’re very old,” she said, glancing up at him and back through the photos when she caught his hint that something was there.

  “Look harder. What do you see in all of them?”

  Her eyes lit up and she spread them out on the end table.

  “No way.” She bent over them for a closer look, then took one to the window and held it up. “The stone cellar in the field. It’s in all of them.”

  “Exactly.” Every photo was an outdoor portrait of a woman on his grandmother’s side of the family. Generations of women in his family. His ancestors. And judging by the ones that had been labeled, these were Gran’s mother, and hers and hers and so on.

  “And our tree? Austin—”

  “I’m positive that’s the same oak over the years. That’s not all. As I looked at these photos, it hit me that I’d seen the same scene before. It took a few minutes for it all to click. Follow me.” He went upstairs to his grandparent’s bedroom and stood at the foot of their neatly made bed. “Look at that paintin
g. It’s the same scene. There’s the cellar. And look at that.” He pointed to a seedling tree to the left of the woman who was so many “greats” removed he didn’t even try to say them all. The oil portrait was signed on the back. He’d checked it last night. Well, more like at 3 a.m.

  “When was this painted?” Serena asked. “How could you not have known about this? Austin, this is amazing. Unbelievable.” She went around the side of the bed for a closer look.

  “It’s dated 1777. This town—or at least the original settlement—is circa 1776. You know what that means?”

  Serena rolled her eyes and let out a breath. He’d almost forgotten how much she’d hated memorizing dates back in school.

  “Um, it was founded around the Declaration of Independence? What’s that got to do—”

  “The town, yes, but I mean the seedling in the painting. The approximate time our tree was planted. Come on, Serena, 1777?”

  “Who kept me from failing history? That year doesn’t ring a bell. Just say it, Austin.”

  “That was the year the continental congress proclaimed the first National Thanksgiving, only it was observed in December that year.”

  “You’re telling me that our oak was planted at the first Thanksgiving?” She looked back at the painting. “Oh, wow,” she whispered.

  “That has to be why Gran didn’t want to lose the land. She knew it was part of her family history. Gramps would have known too, but he’d always been more of a money worrier than a sentimental guy. He wanted to do what was practical.”

  “And who do you take after, Austin? Are you still planning to cut down our tree?”

  “That tree means a lot to me, but you don’t understand. It’s not just about how painful it is to look at it and be reminded of you, knowing I lost you. What I’m doing out there, I’m doing because I lost Gale, too. The tree has to come down so I can create something for the greater good on the spot… Serena, I’m trying to keep other kids from committing suicide.”

  * * *

  Serena struggled to process both the discovery and the conflicting emotions coursing through her as he explained his plans. He wanted to build a teen center. GPS, as he’d called it. He said in his mind it stood for Gale for Prevention of Suicide, but he wanted kids to think of the navigational system. A cool place they could hang out, stay out of trouble and find their way. And her parents knew about his plans, but had told him it was his place to let her know. In fact, in addition to what Austin was using from his inheritance, they’d donated money towards building costs.

  After Gale died, she was afraid to be responsible for anyone but herself. And here, Austin had done the opposite. He’d taken on the responsibility of kids he wasn’t even related to.

  Austin led her outside and held her hand as he led her across the backyard and out into the field. She pulled away and went to the oak tree. No matter how far she ran or how much time she needed to get past Gale’s death, knowing that their tree stood made her feel like she’d be able to come home when she was ready. That the love she and Austin once shared would someday come back to life.

  And he’d almost cut it down.

  Apparently, most of the acreage was prone to flooding in heavy rains and snow melt. He’d been told that, because of the topography of the land, including the creek and the water table, the area the tree stood was the spot to build on. She’d look into that herself. She touched the trunk with her fingertips and circled it.

  “It’s over here,” he said, putting his hand over hers and placing her fingers a little higher. The engraved heart with their initials. He traced it with her finger and everything from his touch to the flood of memories made her want to sink into his arms and never let go.

  “There has to be a way,” she whispered. A way to keep everything safe. Kids. The tree. Austin. She felt powerless. As passionate as she was about her work and as frustrating as her failures were, they were nowhere near as agonizing as the loss of a loved one. She’d been hiding behind her work like she’d been hiding behind anger and blame.

  “Maybe. I’ll hold off until I get more opinions and find out what the options are.” He turned her around so she faced him with her back against the tree. He braced his hands against the trunk on either side of her head and leaned in. “Serena. You have to know that I didn’t mean for Gale to take his life. I had no way of knowing. I don’t think even he knew until the moment it happened.

  “I know.” She wiped an escaped tear and forced herself to look at him. “Maybe I’ve always known, but…. Austin, I can’t handle you dying, too.”

  “Me? Serena, what are you talking about?”

  “You’re an officer. You have a gun with you at all times. What if someday a gun is turned on you? I don’t know if I could let my children live in a house where a gun was stored.” Her cheeks burned and she closed her eyes. Had she just implied they’d have kids someday? They hadn’t had discussions like that since before Gale’s suicide.

  Austin didn’t miss a beat.

  “I’m not stupid. Yes, my job can be dangerous and unpredictable, but it’s who I am. And I know about gun safety. Even living alone, I keep it locked up. I’m a trained professional, Serena. I’m not that idiot who left a loaded gun in his nightstand.”

  She knew exactly who the idiot was. The out-of-town parent whose son, in Gale’s class, had thrown a party in their absence. A party that involved drinking and pot. The kind of kids her brother had never hung out with before. One more warning sign no one had picked up on. And when the cops showed up, the other kids had ditched him. Gale…who never did anything wrong…who pressured himself into being perfect…had been caught doing something illegal.

  She opened her eyes and looked into Austin’s.

  “I wasn’t the only officer there, Serena,” Austin said, reading her mind. “I was shocked when I walked in and saw him. I told him not to run or do anything stupid and had my partner stand down because it was Gale.”

  “He was a good kid,” she insisted.

  “I know he was. Bad choices don’t mean bad kid. But I had no choice when I told him I’d need to call your parents and take him in.”

  Austin’s eyes glistened. Remembering was torture for him, too. Serena bit her lower lip and put her hands on his chest. She’d been so selfish blaming Austin. Yes, he’d been there when it happened, but that also meant that he’d been there when the gunshot rang through the house. It meant he’d never be able to erase the image of finding Gale.

  “Stop. You don’t have to do this,” she said.

  “But I need you to know that when he asked to use the bathroom before leaving, I let him because he was Gale. The master bedroom and bath were close with no second way out. I thought I was keeping him safe. I loved him like a little brother, Serena.” His voice cracked and she wrapped her arms around him. His arms came around her, too, and they held each other.

  “I know,” she said.

  She felt his lips press against the top of her head and she held him even tighter.

  They needed each other.

  * * *

  Minutes passed as they held each other under the oak tree, but he wanted those minutes to last forever. He had commitments, though. He brushed her hair back and held her face.

  “We’re being watched,” he said. She looked over at her parents’ house, but didn’t see anyone. “Not them. Come with me. There are some people I’d like you to meet.”

  He guided her to a clearing on the far side of the tree, away from any parked construction equipment and taped off areas. He felt her tremble as he rubbed his thumb along her palm. He didn’t let go until they came within feet of the group of kids waiting for him.

  “You’re kidding me,” she said, taking in the piles of pumpkins, kids and sling-shot style contraption. He watched the memories cross her face. “You’re pumpkin smashing?”

  “Every year. It rocks,” Joshua said, before Austin could answer. The other teens were already psyching themselves up for safe release, as Austin liked to ca
ll it.

  “What do you say we have some fun? Grab a pumpkin!” Austin called at the top of his lungs. He grinned as the group’s energy skyrocketed. Serena laughed. She laughed.

  Without thinking, he pulled her against his chest and kissed her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Her mom had outdone herself. Serena had outdone herself in the eating department. She hadn’t had an appetite like that in a long time, but between the fun in the field yesterday, Austin’s kiss and the savory aromas of her mom’s home cooking, the floodgates of hunger had opened without shame. She wasn’t sure if she’d binged on her favorite Thanksgiving comfort foods to dampen her overwhelming emotions since coming home, or if her appetite had returned because she’d finally released so many pent-up feelings. Either way, yesterday’s Thanksgiving had been a beautiful one, albeit bittersweet without Gale.

  Right now, lying on a blanket under the oak and staring up at the web work of branches, she kept overanalyzing the message Austin had left on the tabletop tree. One leaf noted that he was thankful for having the Myss family in his life, but he’d written another that said, I’m thankful Serena is a part of me. What exactly did that mean? He’d written it before the kiss that had her swaying on her feet like the branches of a willow in spring. Had he meant a part of him because she was a part of his past? There was nothing past about that kiss. Did he mean that, even after all her anger, blame and leaving him, that he still loved her? If he did, could she handle opening herself back up to that kind of pain…to losing him in the line of duty?

  “Skipping the ropes this time?”

  She jolted onto her elbows and saw Austin, in uniform, walking toward her with a plate. He dropped down next to her and set the sandwiches aside. Serena sat up.

  “Do I still need to be tying myself to it?”

  “I promised you I’d look into it, but you looked kind of cute tied up here and all fired up about saving the tree.”

  He looked so hot in uniform. She smacked his arm and reached over him to steal a sandwich. Leftover turkey and butter on a baguette. The same thing they always ate the day after Thanksgiving, while sitting under this tree, picnic style. Tradition. Except for one year when an early blizzard confined them to their separate houses.