And my heart does that silly little flip I hate.
Waylon walks in with Ruby on his hip. She’s dressed in the prettiest brown-and-orange plaid dress with a big brown bow in her hair, looking like she stepped right out of a fall catalog. Cheyenne follows behind them in a soft sweater dress and sparkly booties, her blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail.
Waylon’s eyes scan the room until they land on me.
And when he finds me, his mouth curves into that smile that makes my knees weak. Stupid knees, acting like a girl.
He walks over, and Ruby waves wildly when she sees Grandma.
“Shelby,” he says softly, like he’s not sure if I’m going to like this, “this is Cheyenne.”
“Hi, Cheyenne,” I say. “Welcome.”
Cheyenne beams. “Thank you so much for inviting me. Seriously. I haven’t had a big family Thanksgiving since my parents passed. You guys are … wow.” She gestures around the room.
I feel something twist in my chest.
“I’m glad you came,” I tell her honestly.
And I am.
Even though she still looks like a Barbie doll in her cute outfit and glossy smile, I can see now that she’s just a girl who lost her parents too soon and needs a family.
That changes things.
Ruby wriggles down and runs straight for Grandma, who scoops her up like she’s been waiting all day for it.
Imma Jean suddenly climbs onto a chair and clanks two pans together. “All right, you beautiful heathens, let’s wrangle you to the tables!”
Laughter ripples through the room as everyone starts finding seats.
Grandpa Earl clears his throat and stands. “Heads down, folks.”
The room quiets.
We bow our heads.
“Lord, we thank you for this food. For the hands that prepared it. For this land and the hands that work it. For the people gathered here, old and new. For family by blood and family by choice. Keep us safe, keep us grateful, and keep us together. Amen.”
“Amen,” we echo.
As we sit down and start passing plates, I look around the table.
Storms.
Ludlows.
Who would have thought?
People who once couldn’t stand each other are now arguing about who gets the last roll.
And I realize something deep in my bones.
We are blessed.
And who the hell would’ve guessed the Storms and the Ludlows would ever share a Thanksgiving table?
Miracles really do happen.
