A Randall Thanksgiving. Judy Christenberry
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“A couple of days,” Melissa stated. Suddenly she noticed John smiling and Harry looking at him, nodding.
“What?”
Her brother shrugged. “I didn’t say anything.”
She turned to stare at Harry. “Why were you nodding?”
“I was just acknowledging what you said,” he replied. He certainly didn’t want to tell Melissa that her mother might have withheld more than her conversation. Sleeping on a lonely sofa could convince a man quickly.
“Is this soup all we’re having, sis?” John interjected. Harry recognized the subject change.
“Oh! I forgot the steak.” Melissa jumped up and headed into the kitchen.
“Good save,” Harry whispered.
“I see you thought what I thought. I didn’t ask Dad, but I figured if she wasn’t speaking to him, even Dad wasn’t going to try anything.”
Harry laughed.
When John went to help with the steak, declining Harry’s offer of assistance, Harry thought about the conversation. Clearly, Melissa’s parents had a good marriage. They still loved each other and their children. He wondered how a marriage like that would feel. And if he’d ever find out.
“Here we go,” Melissa announced, setting a thick steak down in front of Harry, steam rising from it.
John had followed her to the table, carrying his own plate.
“This looks great. Thanks. I’m just afraid I’ll fall asleep before I can finish. Have you noticed that when you warm up after being out in the cold it makes you sleepy?”
“Yes,” Melissa said with a chuckle. “Mom used to let us play outside in winter just before lunch. Then she’d feed us and put us to bed at once. We never even complained about naps.”
“Sometimes I wish I was still that young,” John said with a sigh.
Melissa frowned. “Why, John? Is something wrong?”
“No, not really. It’s just…Dad wants me to take over running the ranch, but I can feel him staring over my shoulder all the time.”
“Have you told him how you feel?”
Harry cleared his throat. “That would be a little difficult, Melissa.”
“Why?” she asked, turning to gaze at him.
Harry sought for words. “It would be like you taking over the cooking. Even if your mother ate what you fixed, you probably would think she was criticizing your cooking in her head.”
“No, I wouldn’t think that.”
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