by Ivy Ruthven
Feeling much better talking to James, I took another sheet and picked up my pen. Things and people that make me happy, I repeated in my head before starting. That was easy. The teashop always made me happy. Stacie was one person who’d been a friend since the day I’d started at Knightswood High. Mr. Varner, the music team director was fond of me and did his best to accommodate me. There were the kids who were part of the team as well…even though I didn’t feel too kindly about Jenny.
To my surprise, most of the space on my paper had filled up too. The sky outside my window and begun to lighten as well. There was enough space to mention Ryan, but I didn’t. The things he’d done for me would take pages to list and describe. So I put the pen down and decided to get ready for school.
Sarah made us pan cakes for breakfast that morning. She seemed in a good mood and was smiling broadly as I gave her my list.
“What will you do with them?” I asked.
“You’ll see this evening,” she said mysteriously.
“Either way, I’ll be able to see before you, Oli,” piped up James. He devoured the last of his pan cakes and went to school. Picking up my knife and fork, I began wolfing down my meal as well. I wanted more time with Ryan that morning.
“All done! I’ll be off too now,” I said, licking the last bits of maple syrup from my plate. I stayed back to wash my plate, then kissed my mother and hurried out the door.
My heart was bursting with emotion that morning as I thought of the moments I had with Ryan over the past couple of months. He’d stuck with me no matter how rude or illogical I’d been. Having him on my side gave me so much strength. I hadn’t even realized it until he got injured and couldn’t always be with me.
Taking a deep breath, I began running. It felt so important to see him that day. Panting and probably looking crazy, I kept jogging through the cold streets until the gates of the school came in view. My heart raced faster as soon as my eyes found him. He was leaning against one of the trees, looking towards the street from where I’d be coming.
“Breathe, Olivia,” he said when I reached him and immediately doubled up, panting hard. His hand rested gently on my back. “It’s not even that late. Why were you dashing like there’s a bear behind you?”
“I wanted to see you,” I said through my erratic breathing.
The change in his expression was immediate. Pulling me closer, his eyes roved all over my face and body. “Are you hurt? Is someone after you?”
“No. I just wanted to see you.”
His blue eyes stared at me intently. His hold on me loosened a fraction. “You can be crazy at times. Do you know that?”
I grinned like an idiot at that. He was the one who drove me insane. “What’s your family doing this Thanksgiving?”
“They are going for a short weekend holiday to Vermont.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling an immediate disappointment. “You won’t be here for four days?”
His gloved fingers came to pinch my nose playfully. “Are you that afraid to be without me?”
Punching his arm, I pretended to look angry. “Don’t be so arrogant! I have James at home. He’s big enough to scare the bears away.” He chuckled, his eyes turning a bright sunny blue. “Are you coming back on Sunday, then?”
“I am not going, Olivia. It’s just my aunt and uncle who will be going.”
“They’ll leave you on your own at Thanksgiving?” I asked. Anger flared inside me at the thought of him all alone in that big estate while every family in Knightswood would be with their families.
“It’s no big deal. My hand is much better. I can look after myself,” he said.
The last time I’d asked him about his parents, he’d gone all cold and closed up completely. Stacie had told me that they were dead, but I didn’t want to bring them up. It would only upset him. “You’re coming to my house this Thursday,” I said in a firm tone.
“Your house?” His eyes widened. “Are you sure? What will your mom say?”
I shrugged. “She said we could have friends over. Her only condition is that we should be at home.” I took his hand with both of mine. “Please come, Ryan.” I hoped my gaze conveyed all my feelings as I stared up at him.
He hesitated, but nodded. “I’ll be there. Just let me know when?”
“Sure! It’ll be great to have you there with us. And since your aunt and uncle won’t be around, you can stay as long as you like,” I concluded happily.
He laughed at that, pulling me closer to shift a lock of hair from my eyes. Warmth bloomed in my cheeks as I fervently looked at the crowd us. “Not here!” I whispered, blushing hard.
A crooked grin came over his lips. Still keeping his hand at the small of my back, he leaned in for a quick peck at my cheek.
“Ryan,” I hissed, pushing against him.
He released me. His smile of victory was maddening, but it only took a minute before my frown turned into a shy grin.
The shrill cry of the school bell cut through our moment. We hurried to join the crowd spilling through the gates.
***
That evening I returned home, eager to see what Sarah had done with our gratitude list. Entering the house, I peeked into the kitchen and found it empty. Faint rock music pervaded through the ceiling, telling me James was upstairs already.
“Mother?” I called.
“In here, Olivia,” came her voice from the living room.
Going there, I found my mother in her favorite couch. Her lap was covered by a long piece of cloth which draped around her legs and pooled at her feet. A long pink thread hung from the end of a needle in her hand.
“What are you doing?” I asked, going towards her.
“Have a look,” she said, shifting aside so that I could have a full view of the blanket. The white cloth had several pieces of fabric stitched on to it. Each of them had one of mine and James’s gratitude object painted on them.
“Wow!” I breathed, leaning forward to take a closer look. Sarah had even painted flowers, footballs, pumpkins, tea pots and tea cups, and red and orange leaves around them. It looked like a collage on a canvas. “It’s beautiful, Mother. But where will you hang it?”
“I am not hanging it. This will be our table cloth for dinner on Thanksgiving!”
“No way!”I argued at once. “We’ll ruin it with our clumsiness.”
“It’s ok. We’ll make one next year. This is something that your gran used to do every year. They would all end up with stains of gravy or sauce. It’s meant to fill you up with gratitude when you are eating the feast.”
“It would be such a waste though,” I said with a frown. “Please, let’s save it, Mother.”
She chuckled. “It’s not even that great. I haven’t stitched anything in ages, but I wanted to do something special for you kids.”
“Have you been at it all day?”
“Pretty much,” she said, adjusting her glasses and starting to sew again.
“Did you eat yet?”
“No, dear. Only James had his dinner.”
“I am going upstairs to freshen up now. How about we eat together in a while?”
“Okay, honey. I will go heat up the food,” said Sarah, carefully removing the cloth from her lap and draping it over the armchair next to her.
At the dinner table, I pouted at the sight of a wilted lettuce salad, boiled carrots and some congealed mac-and-cheese. Sarah was already eating her food with gusto, eager to get back to her project.
“Don’t make that face,” said Sarah, looking up at me. “It is tradition to become as hungry as possible for the Thanksgiving feast.”
“You’ve got to joking,” I said, staring at the sorry food on my plate.
“I am,” she said with a wink. “Eat up! I didn’t have energy to cook much today.”
After the miserable dinner, I helped her clean up the table and the dishes. While I was wiping the plates, a sudden thought came to me.
“When will we get that stuff from the attic?” I asked.
“Now,” said Sarah. “Finish up here. I will go get your brother to move his table around.” She left the kitchen and headed upstairs. Within minutes, loud noises pervaded through the ceiling. There were scraping noises on the floor above. Quickly wiping my hands, I ran up the stairs to James’s room.
James was standing on his desk. It had been moved to the centre of his room. Sarah covered his bed with a spare rug to save it from the dust that was floating through the attic trapdoor.
“It’s completely dark in here,” said James. Half his body was inside the hatch now.
“Feel for a light switch there. It would be like a hanging string. Pull on it,” said Sarah, looking up at her son. It took a moment before light flooded from the opening.
“Whoa,” said James.
“What do you see in there?” I asked.
“Come take a look,” said James, pulling himself through the opening. I climbed up the desk next and peered through the hatch. At once, the attic came into view. Most of the items were covered with sheets. Thick dust lay on every surface with remnants of old cobwebs.
“It’s kinda cold in here,” I said, shivering. “Help me up, James.” He hoisted me through the opening. For a moment, I marveled at my younger brother’s strength.
“Take cover,” said James, holding the end of a sheet. Covering my mouth with the end of my jumper’s sleeve, I stood back. One by one, he began removing the coverlets. For a minute, we were engulfed in a sea of dust.
“Are you guys all right?” came Sarah’s voice.
“Yes, Mother,” said James in between coughs.
When the air settled again, we found a dully twinkling folded Christmas tree in one of the corners. Dozens of boxes were stacked together. There were broken chairs, bundles of blankets and pillows and other knickknacks throughout the space.
It took us an hour of sorting through them to find the large baking trays and casserole dishes that Sarah needed. We found a collection of old Thanksgiving blankets in one of the boxes.
“Do we get the Christmas stuff now or wait until a few more days?” asked James.
“Later. Why crowd up the house until then?”
“You fancy another trip here?” he asked, his eye brows raised at me.
“We don’t want guests seeing all this rubbish,” I muttered.
His green eyes narrowed at me. “What guests?”
“I invited Ryan on Thursday,” I said, doing my best not to blush.
James whistled, his face cracking into an evil grin. “You want the best for your guest, huh?” His wagged his eyebrows at me.
“Promise you’ll behave!” I hissed, glowering at him.
“Now why would I do that when I don’t intend to behave?”
“What are you kids bickering about now?” came Sarah’s exasperated voice. “Get down from there already.”
Sticking out his tongue, James climbed down the hole. I followed him.
“Cover it up now,” instructed Sarah. I climbed down from the table while James closed up the hatch. In the better light of his room, I noticed the dust clinging to my clothes.
“You’ll both need showers,” said Sarah.
We both groaned. It was too cold and late to be taking a bath, but we had to or worry about spiders hatching in our hair.
“I’m going first,” I spoke at once.
“Fine,” muttered James. “I will clean up my room until then. Hurry up!”
“Thanks for all this stuff,” said Sarah, trying to keep from hugging us both.
“You’re welcome,” I said, smiling at her. “There’s lots of stuff up there.”
“I bet! These cooking utensils will be handy for Christmas for too.”
With that, I came out of James room and entered mine. Picking up a clean pair of pajamas and a t-shirt, I headed off to the bathroom.
Chapter 3
On Thanksgiving Day, I woke up to a heady aroma of cinnamon and baking pastry. It was still dark outside my window, so the smell of baking made me curious. Getting out of bed, I wrapped my robe around me and headed downstairs. The lights were all ON in the living room and the kitchen.
“Morning, honey,” said my mother, peering through the door of the kitchen. She was fully dressed, unlike the usual messy bun and loose maroon cardigan.
“What are you doing up so early?” I asked, stifling a yawn. “And what’s that smell?”
“Come see,” said Sarah.
Following her into the kitchen, I saw the counter tops littered with empty cans, bags of flour, packets of butter and used bowls and batter-laden spatulas and spoons. A large turkey lay immersed in a basin of water with bits of onion and peppercorn. The oven lights were on and the space was quite warm.
“You’ve started cooking already?” I gasped.
“I wanted to get some of the things out of the way so I can enjoy some time with you guys,” said Sarah, moving to the sink to wash a large mixing bowl. “The pies are in the oven and once they are done, I’ll put the turkey in. After that, it’s easy sailing, but the turkey has to go in early. It takes over four hours to cook properly.”
“Whoa,” I said, eyeing the giant bird, soaking in the red plastic tub.
“Do you want some breakfast now?”
“No, Mother. I will wait for Ryan to get here,” I said, switching on the kettle. “Can you believe his aunt and uncle left him and went on holiday? You can never believe these family relatives.” I fumed, thinking of my own relatives.
“You did a good thing by inviting him,” said Sarah, wiping her hands and pouring herself some coffee. “The boy looks sort of grim, but not unkind. From what I’ve seen, he’s very caring of you.”
“Yeah,” I sputtered, turning away from Sarah. I pretended to bustle about, making tea, all the while hoping to hide the blush that was warming my cheeks.
“Are we really having pie for breakfast today?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Yes! A big pumpkin pie. We’ll reserve the apple pie and sweet potato ones for dinner later. What else would you like to have?”
“A fry-up?”
Sarah smiled. “Of course.”
James came down after half an hour, looking tired and disgruntled. Standing at the doorway of the kitchen, he seemed to sniff the air of the kitchen. Gradually, the irritation vanished from his face as a look of excitement came over him.
“Are we having all this for breakfast?” he asked.
“Of course, not, you monster,” I said, sipping my tea. “Most of it is for dinner.”
“Mother?” He stared up at her, looking for more validation.
Sarah nodded. “There’s pie for breakfast though. And your sister suggested a fry-up.”
“Good of her,” said James, thumping me on the shoulder. “But I doubt anything will fill me up unless I’m eating that turkey.”
We laughed at his enthusiasm. The sky outside lightened, but it still looked gray and murky. In comparison, our little kitchen was bright and warm with enticing aromas wafting all around us.
“I am going to go and get changed,” I said after finishing my tea. “Ryan should be here soon. I told him to get here as soon as he got up.”
James made an annoyed sound. “Do I need to change out of my pajamas too?”
“Unless you want him to think you’re a barbarian,” I taunted.
Leaving him to complain to our mother, I hurried upstairs to get ready. There were a few new dresses in my wardrobe now. For the occasion, I chose a red asymmetrical dress. It had a snug fit around my torso with a flaring skirt. At its longest, it reached my right calf and at its shortest, it was a few inches above my left knee. A shiny black belt adorned my waist. I brushed my hair and let it fall in waves around my shoulders. After a light touch of makeup and lip gloss, I was ready.
Deciding to wait in the living room, I headed downstairs. Sarah must have started cooking breakfast because the smell of eggs and bacon was heavy in the air. Ignoring the grunts my stomach gave, I sat by the window, looki
ng down the street.
The trees on the street had lost their golden foliage, leaving only gnarled, dried branches behind. Some of the neighbors had decorated their porches with real and dollar-store pumpkins. With twinkling lights around them, they made the neighborhood look festive despite the dull wintry background.
The crunching sound of tires skidding over the asphalt road caught my attention. A cab was heading towards our house. When it stopped next to our house, I leaned through the curtains. The top of Ryan’s head emerged from the car. Abandoning my post, I ran to open the front door.
Ryan was still beside the car, struggling to bring out two massive bags. I rushed forward to meet him.
“Let me help you with that,” I said, reaching him.
While he stood to the side, I got the two bags out, a bottle of wine and a large bouquet. A smile came upon my lips at the extent to which he’d gone to bring us something.
“It looks like you got the whole grocery store with you,” I said, bringing everything out.
“I wasn’t sure if I got enough,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. The cab drove away as soon as he paid the driver.
“Come on,” I said, leading him to the house.
Stepping inside, I put the bags on the floor and helped him get out of his long overcoat. He was dressed in a formal white shirt and navy pants. With strands of dark hair falling into his warm blue eyes, he looked more handsome than ever.
“Hello, Ryan,” said Sarah, who had appeared in the narrow hallway.
“Hello, Mrs. Buchannan,” he said, walking up to her with the bouquet. “Thank you for having me.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, taking the flowers. “These are beautiful! Come in and have some breakfast. You must be starving by now.”
Ryan turned to look at me. I nodded encouragingly, gesturing him to follow my mother. While they walked ahead, I hauled the bags of food he’d brought with him. “Help me with these,” I said to James who’d come out of the kitchen as well. Coming forward, he took them and peered into each.
“Looks enough to feed us for a week,” said James, his head stuck inside one of the bags. “Look, there’s more cake here.”
“Stop acting like Mother doesn’t feed you,” I hissed. “Let’s go to the kitchen. Now that he’s here, we can eat. And I wish you were wearing something nicer.”
