Once Upon a Thanksgiving

by Holly Jacobs

  Fine. So, he didn't enjoy their date as much as she had. She'd get over it and move on.

  Samantha had taken her first tentative steps into single life, and she stumbled. It didn't mean she couldn't get up and try again.

  She deserved to be happy.

  Samantha Williams wasn't going to let one bad date ruin her optimism.

  IT DIDN'T TAKE A ROCKET scientist to realize that Samantha Williams was avoiding him.

  The morning after the PTA meeting, Harry had called her house. He'd remembered that she had Tuesday mornings off. But either she was out running errands, or screening her calls, because he got the answering machine.

  "Hi, Sami. I want to explain why I didn't call. Call me back?"

  A few days later he called again. Stan picked up and when the boy asked who was calling, Harry didn't get any further than "Mr. Reming—" before the boy hung up on him.

  The following week, he called on Wednesday after ten, hoping the kids were in bed and the house would be quiet. Samantha had answered with a rather frazzled, "Hello?"

  Harry managed to spit out, "Samantha, it's Harry. I know you're mad that I didn't call after our date. It's not you, it's me. You see—"

  That's as far as he got before there was a horrible yowl. He assumed it was the cat, not Samantha, but he was sure it was her who shouted, "Yes, of course, it is. I understand." There was another horrible yowl that he hoped was from the cat, not one of the kids. "I've got to go."

  And she'd hung up.

  He wondered who she'd gone out with? One of the fathers from the school? He knew there were a few single dads. Izzy Rizzo's dad for one. He'd seen the guy at the meeting. He was a lawyer or something. Harry hated thinking about the two of them out to dinner, or maybe a movie.

  Today was Friday, and he'd sent her flowers. Periwinkles. The florist had said they meant friendship. Harry hadn't known that flowers had different meanings, but he liked the symbolism.

  Samantha had sent them back.

  He'd also never known you could return flowers, nonetheless the box of periwinkles arrived at his office. In place of his card, he received a note that said,

  I get it, it's not me, it's you. It wasn't even a date, Harry, just a very nice dinner. It wasn't by any means a declaration of anything. Enough.

  She hadn't even signed the note.

  Why that bothered him, he didn't know.

  He should be grateful. Samantha seemed to understand him.

  Which made one of them.

  He should have called her the day after their dinner and invited her out again.

  He should have said something more at the PTA meeting.

  Disgusted with himself, he took the box of flowers with him after school, and rather than driving home, drove to Samantha's house. The eastside neighborhood was an eclectic collection of homes. Small vinyl-sided Capes, two-story brick houses, and an occasional newer split-level or ranch style bungalow. Newer being relative. All the homes had an established, been around for decades sort of look. It was a cheery neighborhood in the autumn sunshine with the leaves littering the sidewalks.

  It was three-thirty when he knocked on the door. It was brisk, despite the sunshine, and he wished he'd worn a jacket. He clutched the flowers and rang the bell.

  He was startled as a foot appeared overhead on the trellis that framed the house's porch. The one blue sneakered foot was followed by a second, then jean-clad legs, then the edge of a black cape and finally, a masked face. Dark eyes widened when the masked figure spotted him.

  "Mr. Rem?"

  Harry was pretty sure he recognized the voice. "Seton?"

  The masked head nodded. "You seen my brothers?"

  "No. I know we're not at school now and I have no authority here, but really, the porch roof isn't a good place to play."

  "But they've kidnapped Stella and I'm trying to rescue her."

  Harry nodded. "That's very commendable, but you need to get off the roof."

  The masked face bobbled up and down. "Okay, I'll go back into my room. Don't tell 'em you saw me if you see them."

  "I won't tell them, but I'm going to have to tell your mom."

  Even masked, Seton's panic was evident. "Oh, man, she's going to kill me."

  Before Harry could try and assure Seton that his mother might yell, but that death was unlikely, the boy's feet disappeared. Harry could hear footsteps that abruptly stopped as he assumed Seton had climbed back into the bedroom. A loud thud told him he was right, and the boy had closed the window.

  Just in time, because the front door opened. "Harry."

  There was no smiled greeting only a frown on Samantha's face. "Did the kids do something at school?"

  "No. But—"

  She interrupted him. "Then we have nothing to talk about."

  "Mmm, I could suggest that the fact Seton was on the roof might constitute something that should be discussed."

  "I'll kill him." Discussion didn't seem to be high on Samantha's priority list, because without further commentary, she sprinted up the stairs, leaving the front door open.

  Harry could have left. After all, Samantha had made herself clear about not wanting to see him again. He knew he should just leave the flowers and go. But knowing and doing were two different things. For instance, when he was young, he'd known throwing snowballs at cars wasn't smart, and yet he found himself doing it anyway. It was the same division between knowing and doing that led him to step into Samantha's foyer and close the door behind him.

  "What have I told you about crawling out your window onto the porch?" he heard Samantha say upstairs.

  Whatever Seton parroted back was low enough that Harry couldn't make it out. "Now, where are your siblings?" Pause. "You're right, it is noble to try and rescue your baby sister, but it's severely lacking in judgment to not listen to your mother's rules. And I have a very firm rule about climbing on roofs of any type. So, you sit in here and think about all my rules so you don't forget next time."

  Pause.

  "Yes, I'll go rescue Stella."

  Pause.

  "I am more than capable of taking on your brothers, but I do appreciate your offer to back me up. Unfortunately, you're imprisoned in this bedroom until further notice. Think about house rules until supper time."

  Harry heard a door close and footsteps down the hall. Samantha came down the stairs, muttering to herself. She stopped abruptly when she spotted him. "You're still here."

  "Yes." He held the florist's box out to her. "They put little plastic water bottles on the ends of the flowers, and then I put them in the fridge, so they should still be good. I want to—"

  He actually thought she was going to argue, but she simply held out her hands, took the box and said, "I don't have time for any more apologies, I've been assured that Stella's life is hanging by a thread. I'm the only one who can save her. So, thanks for the flowers. It was snotty of me to send them back. All is forgiven, not that there was anything to forgive. Goodbye, Harry."

  "Since Seton can't back you up, due to his current incarceration, maybe you'll permit me to help you save Stella?"

  "I don't need anyone's help, Harry." She looked so sure of herself. So ready to take on the world singlehandedly. For a moment, he saw little Sami Burger.

  "That's not what you said that first day in my office. You needed help with the boys."

  "And you gave it. That was kind, and I appreciated it."

  "So, let me help now. Then maybe we can talk."

  "There's nothing to talk about. Though you're not going to leave, are you?"

  He shook his head.

  "Fine. You can help me with Stella, then you can leave with a guilt-free conscience."

  "There are a few things I need to say."

  "And I don't think there's any point."

  "Samantha. . ."

  However Samantha was already walking toward the back door. She set the flowers on the counter, before charging outside.

  Harry was left with no other option but to foll
ow her. He watched Samantha holler, "Stan and Shane, bring your sister and get in this house right now."

  "I thought we were looking for them," he protested.

  "I never said that. I said I'd rescue Stella, and I just did." She pointed to the far corner of the yard where the two boys emerged with Stella, who was blindfolded. "Boys, let your sister see, immediately."

  They did, and all of them trooped into the kitchen. "I'm going to ask this just once. Was anyone else on the roof?" Samantha's tone was stern.

  Shane nodded.

  "You know that was wrong. March up to your room, have a seat on your bed and you think about what could have happened if you'd fallen. Think about the house rules and why we have them."

  "You?" she asked Stan.

  "I told him to get off, and I didn't let him take Stella out." He glared at Harry. "But I'll go to my room, too, and make sure they don't talk."

  He followed his brother.

  "And you?" Samantha asked Stella.

  "I don't climb on roofes. I was the kidnapped princess, and Seton was my knight, trying to rescue me. But the boys put that scarf around my eyes, and I didn't like the game no more." She looked as if she was deciding whether she should cry, or simply go and whack her brothers.

  "Why don't you see if watching a Disney movie will help you recover from your ordeal."

  "A princess movie?" The potential tears evaporated at the idea of a brother-free princess-fest and Stella grinned.

  "Yes."

  As if noticing him for the first time, she said, "Hi, Mr. Rem," as she dashed away from them toward the living room.

  "The boys don't generally let her watch princess movies. They're obsessed with sports and science-fiction shows."

  He nodded. "Samantha—"

  "Have a seat. While the boys are under house arrest, and Stella's bonding with a princess, you have the floor." She took one of the stools at the island, and nodded at the one next to it.

  Suddenly, Harry couldn't think of what to say. "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

  "Harry, you've said it, but we both know there's nothing to be sorry about. Two old friends went out for an evening. A very nice evening, I might add. There were no expectations on either of our parts. You're leaving in a few months anyway, remember?"

  She was letting him off the hook, but rather than feeling relieved, he felt worse. "But I should have called."

  "Seriously, Harry, no, you shouldn't have. It's all good. It was just a dinner."

  "That's what I've told myself, but you and I both know it wasn't just a dinner like you'd have with Mrs. Lewis and Miss Hamilton. It was more. And when I heard you were going out with someone else—"

  "Going out with someone else?" Samantha looked genuinely perplexed.

  "Your date?"

  "My what?"

  "At the PTA meeting, your friends said something about your date."

  "Oh, that." She laughed.

  "Yeah, that. I just wanted to say, he's a lucky man, whoever he is."

  "Yes, whoever."

  There was something going on here, but Harry wasn't sure exactly what. "You're helping at the Halloween party?"

  "Yes."

  "Then I'll see you there. I should be going." He waited, hoping she'd ask him to stay, but she didn't. Reluctantly, he walked out of the kitchen and into the living room, on his way to the front door, Samantha following on his heels.

  "Mr. Rem, do you like Mulan?" The little girl had a number of DVD cases spread out in front of her. She held the one that proclaimed Mulan aloft.

  "I've never seen Mulan, Stella."

  "Oh, Mr. Rem, that's too bad." She looked stricken on his behalf. "The boys say it's one of the best princess movies, 'cause she fights and she's not really a princess, but I think she is." Stella paused a moment, and her expression lightened. "You can watch it with me now, if you like."

  "I—" He looked from the little girl to her mother. Samantha shrugged her shoulders.

  "Please?" Stella begged. "You'll like it."

  "Stella, Mr. Remington probably has other things to do with his afternoon."

  "To be honest, I don't have anything else to do with my afternoon. And unless it's a problem with you, I'd very much like to watch the movie with Stella. It's important for school officials to stay in touch with the kids they work with."

  "Harry, I'm not sure I understand what you're doing."

  "Neither do I. If I did, I'd explain it. All I know is that I'd like to stay, with your permission."

  He thought she was about to tell him it was indeed a problem for her, but the moment passed and she said, "Suit yourself, then."

  HARRY HAD TAKEN HER AT her word, Samantha realized an hour and a half later. He'd finished watching Mulan with Stella, but rather than leaving, he'd gone with Seton and Shane—released from their room—to inspect the latest updates to the clubhouse the boys had built in the backyard.

  Samantha glanced at the three of them, traipsing across the lawn, and disappearing into the woods. Well, they weren't really "woods," but that's what the boys called the small copse of trees that lined the back of their lot.

  The boys had assembled the clubhouse on their own, buying the lumber with their allowances. It was small, but they'd enjoyed working on it as their summer project.

  "Mom, is it Saturday?" Stella glanced out the kitchen window into the backyard.

  She'd felt left out, so the boys instituted a Saturdays-for-Stella rule. She got to be an honorary member only one day a week. That, along with the small play-tent Samantha had bought for her, had kept her happy.

  "No, Stella. It's Friday. Tomorrow's Saturday."

  "Oh." But without a pause, she sprinted through the kitchen, out the backyard, across the lawn and into the clubhouse.

  Stan thumped into the kitchen, and sat at the counter. Samantha continued drying the glass in her hand, and waited.

  "I don't know why he's here again," her son finally said.

  She didn't have to ask who he was. She also didn't mention that she didn't know why Harry was here, either.

  "We don't need no new guy," he continued. "We have a dad."

  "Who'll be here at seven to pick you up." She looked at her obviously upset son. "You think that's what Harry wants? To be your dad?"

  "Yeah."

  "Stan, honey, no one—not Mr. Remington, not anyone—can ever replace your dad. You have a father who loves you."

  "He didn't love us for the year he hardly ever saw us."

  The pain in Stan's voice almost floored her. She'd do just about anything to be able to have spared him that. "Stan, you're old enough to understand your father was going through something. I can't pretend to understand what it was, but that doesn't change the fact that he was having a problem. He told you, told all of us, he'd been seeing a doctor, trying to work it out. It wasn't you, and it wasn't me. It was your dad's problem. And he seems to be getting better. He's back and he's trying."

  '"Cause Lois made him come back."

  When Phillip had walked out on her, she'd never imagined that there would come a day when she would defend him, but tonight she'd do just that. "Stan, your father and I were friends before we ever got married, and I think now that we're not married, we're finding out we're still able to be friends. I can guarantee you that no matter how much he loves Lois, no one ever made your father do anything. Phillip Williams is a man who sorts things out on his own."

  "Yeah, I guess."

  "And even if he had some problems last year that doesn't mean he didn't love you. It means he trusted me enough to look out for all of you until he could again."

  "You guys are really still friends?" Stan didn't look as if he quite believed it.

  Samantha couldn't fault him—it surprised her, as well. Oh, maybe friends was a fairly broad definition, but it was close. "I think so."

  "And now he's got a girlfriend, but that doesn't bother you?"

  Samantha didn't answer right away. She reflected for a few seconds. "Stan, I can honestly say I w
ish your father all the happiness in the world. If that's with Lois, then no, she doesn't bother me."

  '"Cause you don't love him anymore, right?"

  Sensing there was more to the question, Samantha replied, "Stan, are you worried that because your father and I stopped loving each other, we'll stop loving you?" Before he could respond, she continued, "Because I can assure you, that will never happen. Even when your father took some time away, it wasn't that he didn't love you, it was that he had to straighten out his own life before he could come back into yours."

  He didn't meet her eyes, so she gently took his chin and made him look up. "Stan, I love you. Nothing could change that. Ever. You're my son."

  "What if you start dating some guy who didn't like us kids?"

  "That's an easy answer. . .I'd dump him. And let me point out, Lois likes you. She's encouraging your father to see more of you. Your father and I both love you, and everyone else is secondary to that. If there's nothing else you believe in life, believe that."

  Stan didn't say anything, but nodded. "That's what that school shrink Mr. Remington made us see said."

  "She was right."

  The moment wasn't just broken, it was shattered by the kids running back into the kitchen.

  "Mom, Mom, Mr. Rem had a great idea for the clubhouse. The tree has that one high branch. He said he could put a swing in it, if it was okay with you," Seton said in one long breath.

  "I told 'em it would be okay," Shane added.

  "But he said we had to ask you. Please, Mom."

  "Yeah, please?"

  Harry and Stella came in as the boys finished their plea.

  "Sorry. I was talking about my old clubhouse and. . ." He looked rueful. "The boys promised to live with your response, no begging or recriminations if you said no."

  Four faces looked at her, waiting for her response, only Stan didn't offer her a pleading look. He purposely was staring anywhere but at her.

  "Are you sure it would be safe?" Samantha asked.