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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

WITH A GRATEFUL HEART

EMMA

T he turkey – and Jake – survived the frying, and is now the centerpiece of the Hutchinson’s dining table, surrounded by side dishes, family, and a few extra guests looking for family to spend the holiday with; Max Harrison – who the girls called uncle Max, and I didn’t realize they meant Max Harrison, star pitcher and all around grumpy heartthrob – and his sister Elise. And Sutton Davis, a friend of Amanda’s and the first woman to coach in professional baseball, is not far behind him. Molly is beside herself with glee over the prospect of meeting Max and Sutton. She’s been chatting with Penelope all morning and is angling for a seat at the table next to Sutton.

Mr. and Mrs. Owens, who insisted that I call them Lee and Elaine, arrive just before dinner, adding some desserts to the mix before greeting everyone – even me – with warm hugs. Mrs. Owens, Elaine, holds me a little longer, giving me a squeeze as she lets me go.

“Glad you could be here,” she says. “It’s nice to have you as a part of the family.”

“Alice and Mackenzie made place cards,” Claire says, calling us all to attention from our various places around the house. “Grab your name and then find a seat at the table; no assigned seats!”

Molly gently elbows me out of the way to win a seat between Sutton and Penelope. I shake my head when she throws me a wide-eyed, excited grin. I sit down beside Jax, with Mackenzie on his other side and Alice on mine as the rest of the family fills in around the pushed together tables. Jax’s arm snakes around my back, his hand landing on my shoulder and giving a light squeeze as I lean ever so slightly closer to him. Ben stands at the head of the table and says grace, giving thanks for the family gathered at the table, and the family some of us are missing this year.

We make quick work of Jake’s amazing turkey, and Molly’s mac and cheese tastes so much like Mom’s I could cry. Mandy’s secret family stuffing recipe is so delicious that I’m trying to figure out a recipe heist for later tonight, but what gets me is the laughter. The laughter and love around this table is heartwarming and overwhelming.

“Molly, Emma,” Claire asks from her end of the table, “what did a Mitchell Family Thanksgiving look like for you girls?”

“Growing up, Thanksgiving dinner was a quiet affair, just the four of us,” I answer, meeting my sister’s gaze across the table, and she gives me a small, encouraging smile. “Sometimes we’d visit Mom’s family in Texas, but most of the time it was the Mitchell Four around the table.”

“Mom and Dad always cooked a turkey with stuffing and mashed potatoes,” Molly chimes in, “and as Emma and I got older, we’d help with whatever we could. Then, we’d have ice cream for dessert, always ice cream, and set up the Christmas tree as soon as we cleared the dishes from the table and got them washed. Thanksgiving night, once football was over for the day, was spent snuggled on the couch with the glow of Christmas lights, and a favorite Christmas movie on TV.”

“Do you remember the year Dad took us on a walk of The Freedom Trail after dinner?” I grin at Molly, memories flooding back to me.

“In costume!” She explodes with laughter at the memory of the two of us in our eighteenth century style dresses and tennis shoes.

“What’s the story there?” Jax asks, leaning closer to me until we’re almost in each other’s space.

“Our dad was a history teacher,” I explain to everyone at the table, “and he’d been waiting years to take us on a walking tour of The Freedom Trail in Boston, figuring that on Thanksgiving Day there wouldn’t be very many people taking tours, and he was right of course, so he dressed us up…was Mom there yet?”

“Not yet,” Molly shakes her head with a laugh. “Remember, after Mom came along, the costumes got way better.”

“Anyway, Dad took us on a walking tour in our costumes and winter coats, and by the end we had probably four or five random people walking with us listening to Dad explain everything.”

“And now Mom and Dad are both retired from teaching, and lead tours themselves. Emma even tags along and helps sometimes. Don’t you, Sis?” Molly’s eyes glitter with mischief as she looks from me to Jax. “Sometimes even in costume.”

My cheeks heat as Jax whispers close to my ear, “I’d love to see that costume, Ms. Mitchell.”

“You really wouldn’t,” I laugh, wishing I could slink right under the table to hide my embarrassment. Finally, blessedly, the topic moves away from me in colonial dress. I’m not used to rowdy family gatherings like this, and it gets overwhelming pretty quickly. Trying to shrink into my chair, I sit back and slowly eat my meal, doing my best to stay engaged in conversation but having trouble paying attention to one thing at a time. But the thought that keeps nagging at me is whether or not I can walk away from this.

“You okay?” Jax leans close, his words a rough whisper in my ear. I tilt my head to face him and his eyes search mine, assessing and concerned. Charlie nudges himself between us, resting a paw on my thigh and nuzzling into me.

“I’ll be okay,” I answer, trying to convince myself as much as I am Jax, but my voice shakes, and so do my hands. Anxiety is bubbling up and I don’t want to deal with it now. I especially don’t want to deal with it here. “I’m fine.”

“Emma, if you need to, you can get out of here. I can cover for you.”

“You’re very sweet,” I pat his leg under the table, feeling a little calmer already as he presses a hand to my back. “But I promise, I’ll be okay.”

“You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”

“Yes,” I answer, and truly mean it. With so many others, my instinct is to hide my anxiety, but I trust Jax with that part of me. With every part of me.

When we’re done eating the main meal, everyone chips in to help clear the table, and I find myself rinsing dishes and passing them to Max Harrison to load into the dishwasher.

“It’s really cool to meet you,” he says, a sheepish smile cracking through his usually gruff facade. “I’m a big fan.”

“It’s pretty cool to meet you, too,” I tell him, passing him a serving dish to load and trying really hard to play it cool while standing next to one of my favorite baseball players. “I watched a lot of baseball when I was recovering from my surgery and your playoff run was spectacular.”

“Thank you. It was truly a team effort. But enough about that, what’s next for you?”

“As a matter of fact, I’m meeting up with a team on Saturday for practice. We’ve got a friendly just before Christmas.”

“That’s great, Emma!”

“It is. I’m looking forward to being with a team again.”

“And after that?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“That’s fair,” he nods thoughtfully, loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher. Once our task is done, we gather around the dining table once more, this time surveying the array of pies and desserts laid out. A stack of paper plates and plastic silverwares sits nearby and we begin to help ourselves to Marcus’s pies and settle in for the end of the football game.

With Marcus’ signature lemon meringue pie on my plate, I settle into a cozy corner on the floor in front of the sectional sofa with Alice and Jax behind me, and Mackenzie perched beside me with her nose in a book, everyone else’s attention is glued to the football game on the screen as the clock ticks into the final minutes of the fourth quarter and Detroit has a tenuous lead. Now is not the time to tell this family that I’m a New England girl who’s used to her team taking a lead and running with it, so Molly and I sit silently, eating our pie and throwing occasional smirks at each other as our team breaks through Detroit’s defense or holds their offense back.

James is pacing.

Penelope has changed into a “lucky jersey” but refuses to call it that because she insists she’s only superstitious about baseball.

Jax is fidgeting nervously behind me, occasionally grumbling to himself, “we’re gonna lose this game.”

“Don’t say that, dad!” Alice admonishes her dad to everyone’s delight. “We have to believe in them.”

“Alice,” Jax hooks an arm around his daughter and pulls her close. “I’ve been disappointed by this team lots of times, baby girl. It’s best not to get your hopes too high.”

“Well, someone has to believe in them, so it’s going to be me.”

“Me too, Kiddo,” Ben calls from across the room.

“And me,” Lee adds, raising a silent toast with his coffee mug.

“I’ve seen too much,” Jax mumbles, scooting off the couch until he’s on the floor by me, arm around my shoulders. “But it would be great if we could take your team down.”

“Shh!” I elbow him in the side (gently. For the most part). “Your family doesn’t know this is my team, I don’t want them to banish me!”

“If they banish you, they lose me too.” He plants a kiss on my cheek before whispering in my ear, “besides, they already know. They’re just too nice to say anything.”

“We’re really not,” James stops his pacing and throws a glare in my direction, before adding a playful wink. “We just have so little experience beating your team that we don’t know how to trash talk.”

Detroit pulls off the win, to the surprise of everyone in the room. Except for Alice, who drops a kiss on her dad’s cheek with a joyful, “told you so!” before running off to help her grandpa in the kitchen.

Molly glances at her watch and her face falls as she meets my gaze across the room; she’s got to get back on the road soon, and as sad as I am that she has to leave, it was so wonderful to spend the day with her. I join her in the kitchen where Ben and Claire are loading up a bag with leftovers for her to take home, along with a disposable travel mug with coffee for the drive.

I walk Molly out to her car and wrap her in a hug, hesitant to let her go.

“I’m so glad you came. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’m glad I came too,” she smiles as she pulls away from me. “I’m glad I got to see you, and I’m glad I got to meet Jax. Hold onto that one, Em.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Good. Good. I love you, Emma.”

“I love you, Molly.”

After one last hug, Molly climbs into her car and I watch her drive away, until I can’t see her tail lights anymore. I’m so grateful we were able to spend time together, and especially grateful to introduce her to the Hutchinsons.

“I know you probably want to get ready for Saturday,” Jax meets me on the porch as I return to the house, “so don’t feel like you need to stick around for the rest of the night. It’s about to get even crazier around here.”

“You’re not getting rid of me yet, Doctor Hutchinson.” I pull him in for a kiss before making my way back into the house and finding a flurry of activity, with Claire in the center of it all, directing traffic as Max, Elise, and Sutton bid their farewell.

James snags Jax, and the pair head outside with a tub of outdoor lights. Jake and Ben go upstairs with a similar tote to work on the balcony lights, as I join Penelope and Mandy in the living room to work on the tree. The fireplace is glowing and Charlie is snoozing nearby while Alice and Mackenzie take off for the basement tree with Leigh on their heels. Christmas music pours from various speakers around the house and with all of us chipping in, the house transforms from a fall fantasy to a winter wonderland in no time.

“Christmas traditions!” Jenna calls from underneath the tree as she scoots it this way and that in an attempt to get it just right.

“What about them?” Penelope asks, untangling a string of lights nearby.

“Do you have a favorite?”

“Peter and I always decorated Christmas cookies,” Penelope answers with a fond smile on her face when she mentions her brother. “Mom would bake them and he and I would have a decorating competition that only the two of us knew about. What about you?”

“Caroling,” Jenna answers with a laugh. “The boys were pretty terrible at it, except for Jax, but we loved to visit friends and neighbors and sing for them. How about you, Emma?”

I think for a moment, my mind going back to that window of Christmases after and before; after the woman who gave birth to us left, and before Mom came into our lives. Those were the years that Dad wanted to make memories, sort of trying to override the memories of Christmases with her in our lives. We visited Santa and made gingerbread houses. Dad would stay up late grading assignments, and let us stay awake to watch Christmas movies, but we always fell asleep early. But my favorite tradition is one that we still uphold, no matter where we are in the world, together or apart.

“Dad always took us out shopping on Christmas Eve. We always stopped for coffee – hot chocolate for Molly and me when we were kids – and then we’d go to the mall. There was lots of people-watching, lots of laughter and so many stressed shoppers. And then we’d go to the bookstore and Dad would let us loose! Molly and I each got to pick a book for ourselves and books for dad. Then as a family we’d pick a new board game…and then we’d act surprised the next morning when it was all under the tree.”

“I love that,” Jax walks into the room, cheeks reddened from his time spent outside in the cold. “It reminds me that the girls and I also have a Christmas Eve tradition; there’s a Christmas Eve party that Lee and Elaine host every year for the baseball team and the local veterans group. This year it’s a formal event, dress uniforms, the whole nine yards. I know it’s the day after the match, and I don’t want you to feel obligated to say yes, or to commit to it…”

“The best I can tell you is that I’ll try, Jax.”

“That’s all I need,” he cups my cheek with a cold hand, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. “Besides, I’ve already got two standing dates for the night.”

After a few hours of work, trees are decorated, stockings are hung, the house is covered in multicolored lights, and even though we’re just a few hours removed from a literal feast, all the work of decorating requires snacks. Mackenzie and I step into the kitchen to work on another batch of hot chocolate while Ben and Claire set out an array of leftovers from earlier. Familiar strains of music flow from the living room, glancing up I find Jax on the couch with Alice snuggled beside him, watching a classic Christmas musical. The same one my family watched every Thanksgiving night.

A lump of unshed tears forms in my throat as I watch the opening number, remembering singing and dancing along with my sister; all those quiet Thanksgivings with our dad, the silence broken by his voice crooning along with Bing Crosby. And when Maureen came along, her harmonies filled the house. Leaving Mackenzie to watch the pot so it doesn’t boil over, I pull my phone from my pocket and step into a quiet corner of the house to make a quick call that goes to voicemail as I expected.

“Hi Dad,” I swallow back the emotion in my throat. “Just wanted to wish you and Mom a Happy Thanksgiving. I love you, Dad. I don’t tell you that enough, and I certainly don’t tell you thank you enough. For everything. For all those years of Thanksgiving giving way to Christmas, and the joy that you always brought into our house…even on the darkest days. I love you so much, Dad. and I’m so thankful for you. Enjoy your trip, and tell Mom I love her.”

I slip up the stairs to my room, ducking inside and quietly shutting the door behind me. The room is illuminated by the warm glow of Christmas lights from the balcony, and it’s still just warm enough, even in late November, that I can sit outside with just a blanket keeping me warm. Soon that blanket is joined by Jax’s warm arms around my shoulders and sold chest against my back.

“I hope you had a good Thanksgiving,” his breath warms the back of my neck as he pushes my hair over one shoulder and presses a soft kiss to the back of my neck.

“It was wonderful. Being here with you has been wonderful.”

“What time do I need to have you home tomorrow?” He asks, his voice taking on a quiet sadness.

“I need to leave around noon. We have a team meeting tomorrow night before training on Saturday.”

“Home on Sunday?”

“Sunday night.”

“Come over,” he whispers, kisses migrating from my neck down to my collarbone. “If you’re feeling up to it.”

“I’ll be there,” I turn and pull him in for a proper kiss, as the blanket falls away and leaves us exposed to the cold air, but it doesn’t matter, because Jax wraps me in his arms and his kisses warm me from the inside out.