LOST

The Kasey family was never really much for big, family holiday get-togethers. Especially Thanksgiving and Christmas. James’s mother died of cancer when he was seven years old. Since then, his father didn’t care about the holidays very much. James was an only child so there weren’t any siblings to lean on for support over the years. James’s father pushed all of their other relatives away. James learned to rely on himself, but still grew up to be a caring and compassionate man. Perhaps it was out of a desire not to let what happened to his father’s family happen to his own. Carolyn’s parents died in a car accident a few years ago. Her older brother lived in Colorado, and her younger sister lived in Pennsylvania, where she grew up. They found the time to call around the holidays but always managed an excuse not to come out for a visit.

This year, things were different. Stew had changed all that. The Kasey house was going to be fuller this Thanksgiving than it had ever been before. Becca was in the kitchen helping Carolyn. Stew and Alex were on their way and they invited Wiz, so he was coming with them. Carolyn had asked Alex if she would invite her grandmother, Jacqueline. James asked Marc and his parents, Steve and Sharon Massey, if they wanted to come over. They had lived next door to each other for nearly twenty years and they had never eaten Thanksgiving together.

Carolyn’s sister, Susan, was already there with her husband, Kevin, their twelve year old daughter, Caroline, and ten year old son, Michael. Carolyn’s divorced brother, Doug, was on his way with his eight year old son, Chad.

And then, of course, there would be Goose, Stew’s dog. Carolyn did not like dogs. No one was ever sure why. She had never been bitten by one. Her family had a Jack Russell Terrier while she was growing up. It died while she was in her junior year at Wake Forest and she never shed a tear. She was just not a dog person.

Nine people already in the house and seven more on the way, plus a dog, makes seventeen warm bodies in a house that is not used to more than five or six. The Kasey’s had much to be thankful for and they were happy to share it.

Stew, Wiz, Marc, Goose and Alex got out of her car and walked toward the front door of the Kasey’s two-story house. Stew had Alex park on the curb to leave room in the driveway for whoever hadn’t arrived yet.

“Are your parents listed in the phonebook?” Wiz asked nervously.

“Wiz, I’m pretty confident that Zachary is not going to try and get to us here,” Stew assured him. “I think we’re safe.”

“You’re probably right.” Wiz took a cleansing, sighful breath. “I’ll try not to worry about it and enjoy dinner with your family.”

“Are you sure your mom isn’t going to mind Goose being inside?” Alex asked.

“I guess we’ll just see. Won’t we?” Stew replied, Goose happily trotting beside him.

“He’s a really well-behaved dog. He’ll be fine,” Wiz said, taking up the rear of the pack.

“Let’s hope so,” Stew said, raising his eyebrows slightly. “It should prove to be interesting, whatever happens.”

“Why do you say that?” Wiz asked curiously.

“Some families watch football on Thanksgiving. But our team is the Packers and they don’t play on Thanksgiving every year.”

“So?” Alex replied, not understanding what the problem was, as they got to the front porch.

“So,” Stew continued, hesitating before going inside, “my dad started a tradition of him and me going out for a round of golf on those years that they didn’t play, so Mom could have us out of her hair while she and Becca cooked. This year, my mom wants everyone to stay around the house, since we have all this family visiting for the first time in I don’t know how long. We can watch football, but Mom’s never had the house this full. I just wonder if she knows what she’s gotten herself into.”

“I’m sure it will all be fine,” Alex assured him as Stew opened the door and ushered the bunch inside. The foyer of the Kasey home was not entirely closed off from the rest of the house but there was a partial wall between it and the family room, which was across from the dining room. Several hooks adorned the wall beside the door for coats, three of which were occupied. “Here,” Stew offered to take their jackets, “I’ll just take ours upstairs to my room.”

“My grandmother will be here soon,” Alex whispered. “She’s a Thanksgiving veteran and isn’t one to sit around and not help out. The kids can play outside. I’m sure Goose would love to run around with someone with as much energy as him for a change. Where do you usually watch TV?”

“The den downstairs.”

“Okay, anyone who wants to watch football can watch it there. And anyone who wants to talk can either sit in the family room or the kitchen table. And anyone your mom will let help her fix dinner can do that.”

“Sounds good, Master Planner,” Stew joked.

“All right, smart-aleck.”

“I’m kidding, but only kind of. You have to have a mind for logistics to do stuff like that.”

“Like what?”

“Organize people. It stresses me out just thinking about it.”

“Hm. I don’t know. Maybe I missed my calling.”

“No, I think it’ll be useful when your graphic design business starts growing.”

“Alex,” Carolyn said, wiping her hands with a dish towel as she stepped into the foyer from the kitchen. “Good to see you. Is your grandmother still coming?”

“She’ll be here in about twenty minutes. She was just running a bit slower than we were, so, she told us to go ahead.”

“Does she know how to get here?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s got a GPS in her car.”

“And you’re not worried about—” The sides of her mouth twitched at the thought.

“Zachary? Of course, I am. But she insists that if it’s her time, it’s her time. How are you doing?”

“I’m… all right.” She sighed, and then admitted, “Okay. To be honest… I am a bit frazzled.”

“Well, if it’s the people, I’ll take care of it.”

“Really? What are you—Well, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Kasey.”

Carolyn retreated back to the kitchen and Alex turned to Stew, “You and Marc take the football fans downstairs. I’ll take Goose.”

Stew and Marc went to wrangle up whoever wanted to watch the game while Alex and Wiz took the kids outside with Goose and left everyone else to decide for themselves where they wanted to stay and chat. Carolyn peeked out from the kitchen, observed how quiet it was, comparatively, and was quite impressed.

Carolyn pulled a casserole dish full of cranberry stuffing out of the oven as Wiz walked through the back door into the kitchen.

“Kids too much for you?” she asked.

“No. It’s Goose, actually. He gets so hyper around kids. You wouldn’t think he’s as…”

“As what?”

“Laid back.” Wiz recovered nicely after almost making a grave error in saying that Goose was old. He was only three when the whole thing started twelve centuries ago and he still looked like he was just three.

“Well, even laid back dogs need to jump around a little every now and then,” Susan said as she rolled dough into a crust for a pie.

“I suppose you’re right,” Wiz replied. “I guess we all like to have fun once in a while, no matter what our age is.”

“That’s right. Hey, Wiz… I didn’t think to ask… do you have any favorite Thanksgiving dishes?” Carolyn asked. “It’s not too late to send someone to the store.”

“You know, a friend of mine used to make a pie—strawberry rhubarb. But hardly anyone grows rhubarb anymore.”

“We do,” Sharon said. “Strawberries, too.”

Wiz turned to her, his eyes wide with sudden joy. “Really?”

“Yes. We’ve canned rhubarb jelly and sold it at O.O. Rufty’s for years. Now it’s called Okey Dokey and Company. It’s an old fashioned general store downtown. Carolyn, I have some jars of whole rhubarb and strawberries that I haven’t made into jam yet. Would you like me to grab some?”

“Sure. Thank you. It is your lucky day, Wiz.”

“I’ll be right back,” Sharon said, scooting out the back door.

Wiz smiled, not only at the thought of having strawberry rhubarb pie for the first time in sixty years, but also because he felt the warmth someone feels when someone else does something simply to please that person. It made him feel like he was part of the family, even if it was just for today.

The combination of aromas rising from the dining room table was wonderful. James, Stew’s father, was seated at the head. To his right were Stew, Alex, Wiz, Kevin and Susan. At the other end of the table sat Carolyn and to her right were Doug, Sharon, Steven, Marc and Alex’s grandmother, Jacqueline. The kids, Caroline, Michael and Chad, sat at the kitchen table with Becca there to keep them in line. Outside of soup kitchens and the foxholes on the Western Front in World War I, this was the largest group of people Wiz had ever eaten Thanksgiving dinner with. It almost brought him to tears, right there in front of the turkey and mashed potatoes, to think how much he missed having a family.

James led everyone in prayer, thanking God for letting Wiz and Alex be in the right place at the right time to save Stew’s life, and for letting family and friends come together and share in the celebration and joy.

“Wiz, right?” Kevin asked.

“Mm-hm,” Wiz replied, his mouth full of sweet potatoes.

“What do you do?”

Wiz finished chewing and swallowed, trying to buy himself some time to think of an acceptable answer without too much truth stretching. “Well… I’m sort of between jobs at the moment.”

Stew nearly choked on a piece of turkey. He put his hand up and nodded to let everyone know he was okay, then drank some water.

“What have you done in the past?”

“Um… bit of a world traveler, I guess.”

“Yeah? Sales or marketing?”

“Talent scout.”

“Really?” Kevin sounded intrigued. “Sports or modeling?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that. I worked for a group of people who were looking for someone to satisfy a very specific need and were willing to send me to the ends of the earth to find him.”

“Did you? Find him, I mean.”

“Oh, yes.”

“How long did it take?”

“Hmph. You really don’t want to know.”

“So, you were no longer needed after that?”

Wiz shrugged his shoulders, avoiding an actual answer. He just let Kevin assume that he was right.

“Wow. It must have been a hell of a ride while it lasted.”

“Indeed, it was.”

“Stew,” James said, sensing an awkwardness, “you’ll appreciate this. Your cousin, Kyle—”

“James Kasey,” Carolyn interrupted, pushing her eyebrows down and pursing her lips, “it is not as funny as you think it is.”

“If you don’t see the humor in it, then you need to lighten up a bit.”

“It’s okay, Carrie,” Susan assured her. “I think it’s funny.”

“Fine. Tell the damn story.”

“Okay. True story. Kyle is high-functioning mentally challenged. Most of you knew that, but… anyway, he’s able to have his own apartment. Monday of last week, he talked to his mom, Carolyn and Suze’s Aunt Stacy, on the phone. He told her he had caught a goblin and put it in the closet. He was feeding it but he wasn’t going to let it out.”

“A what?” Wiz asked, very confused.

“A goblin. Stacy thought, ‘Okay. Kyle being Kyle,’ but then, last Sunday, she went over for lunch and there was a dresser in front of the hall closet. He moved it and opened the door. Inside, there was a Jehovah’s Witness who was… height challenged. Apparently, he had knocked on the door, Kyle thought he was a goblin and shoved him in the closet.”

“Kyle locked a midget Jehovah’s Witness in the closet because he thought he was a goblin,” Stew nodded his head and looked at the wall, trying to envision the incident.

“Yes,” James replied.

Marc couldn’t hold it anymore, spraying his plate with mashed potatoes. Most everyone began to chuckle.

“It is not…” Carolyn scolded, “funny.” Chuckles turned to laughter.

Stew, Alex, James and Kevin burst into an uproar of hilarity. Carolyn closed her eyes, shook her head and a smile snuck its way across her mouth as the rest of them fought to keep from falling out of their chairs.

“We’re all going to Hell,” she said and quietly sipped her wine amidst the hooing and ha-ing.

As everyone calmed down, Stew looked over at Wiz and saw Regan carefully balancing herself on his knife, which rested on the side of his plate. She walked along the flat end to the handle as it hung off the edge of the plate. Stew nudged Alex’s arm and tried to hint to her to get Wiz’s attention but it was too late. Regan continued until she was so far passed the lip of the plate that the handle of the knife began teeter down, ever so slightly. She jumped up and came down on the end of the knife, causing it to flip, end over end, up and then down toward the bowl of cranberry stuffing. Wiz heard the commotion and looked just in time to catch the knife in midair above the stuffing. He froze for a second, his hand still grasping the butter knife. He looked around at all the eyes staring at him.

“I meant to do that,” he said, attributing it to his clumsiness. As he put the knife back down beside his plate, he saw Regan sulking, sitting against his water glass. Everyone else went back to talking about the goblin episode and whether charges were going to be filed. He tried to get her attention without words but was having no luck. He picked up the glass and made sure to pin her wings against it with his thumb. He brought it to his mouth to drink and she struggled to free herself, unsuccessfully, as he tilted the glass up. She swung toward his face and slammed into his cheek. “Behave yourself,” he whispered. Then, he put the glass back down and released her.

She glared at him with eyes that would scare a snake. She shook the moisture from the glass off her wings and took off, at full speed, to the kitchen, knocking over Carolyn’s glass of merlot on the way.

“Carolyn,” Doug said, handing her several napkins as she tried to keep the wine from spilling on to the floor. “How much have you had?”

“That was only my second glass and I usually don’t start knocking things over until the second bottle.”

The whole table erupted again, still in recovery from before. Everyone except Wiz. “Will you excuse me, please?” he said, standing up. “I just need a little air.”

“Are you okay?” Carolyn asked.

“Oh, yeah. I’ll be right back. I just get a little claustrophobic sometimes.”

“Okay. When you come back, we’ll cut into your strawberry rhubarb pie.”

“Sounds great.” He headed for the back door and outside.

“Is he okay?” James asked Stew.

“Yeah, he’s fine. He’s just not used to being around this many people. That’s all.”

Wiz looked around the backyard, knowing she wouldn’t have gone too far. Finally, he found her straddling the peg of a hummingbird feeder. “What’s going on with you?” She turned her head away from him and ignored his question. “First, the knife and then, the wine. Will you talk to me?”

She turned and faced him, her eyes full of glittery tears. “You and Goose have been my family for so long, I had forgotten what it was like to have a real family like that.”

“I’m sorry. You miss your family?”

“I do.”

“I wish you could have seen them one last time before they died.”

“Me, too,” she sighed.

“Stew’s your family, too, now, though,” Wiz pointed out. “And as jealous as you are of females, Alex is your family, as well.”

“She can’t even see me,” she said smartly.

“No, but I think, once she finds out everything and starts to understand, that she’ll be able to, at least, sense when you’re around. If we can get rid of Zachary, we’ll finally be able to settle down somewhere instead of never having a real home of our own.”

“That would be nice.”

“Wouldn’t it?”

Regan nodded slowly as she stared into the sunset.

“Can we go back inside now?” Wiz asked, tilting his head to try and get her to look him in the eye.

“As long as you share your pie.”

“Yes, I’ll share my pie,” he said, rolling his eyes.

She rode on his shoulder, a big smile on her little face, through the back door into the kitchen and had the best pie they had ever tasted. Not just because it was strawberry rhubarb, but because of what it represented.