“I’ll go with him.” Riot patiently waits for Claire to kick off her boots and drop her backpack. She smiles affectionately as he hands her a covered casserole dish. Looking at me, he grins. “Thanks for having us, Hannah.”
Claire nods in agreement. “Yes, thank you, Ben has been talking about coming for days.”
“To see the little men of course?” I say, nodding my head, knowingly.
“Obviously. You can expect a lot of questions.” Rolling her eyes, she laughs and continues through the mudroom into the kitchen to handoff their prepared dish.
“We can refer all gnome related questions to Logan. He is the resident expert,” I call after her with a snort.
“I am not,” he hollers back. “They are unwanted tenants, and I can’t even evict them.”
Shaking my head with amusement, I’m just about to close the door when I see Meg enter the yard alone. I step further out onto the deck as she looks up. Meeting my eyes, she subtly shakes her head before looking down to the ground. I can see disappointment all over her face. When she reaches the top of the stairs, I take her bag from her and set it on the garden bench.
“I’m so glad you could make it,” I whisper into her auburn hair as I pull her into an embrace.
“Me too.” She squeezes me tight before stepping back. Her red rimmed eyes break my heart. Lifting the bag in the air, she fakes a smile, and says, “I made a couple of pies. I know you love pumpkin, and I made blackberry crumble as well.”
“Awesome, I can’t wait. Do you think anyone would notice if I ate dessert first?” I question, tapping my finger to my lips.
“Ben absolutely would and then you would have to answer to his mother. I don’t advise it.”
“Fair point.” Tilting my head in the direction of the door, I tell her, “Logan and Claire are in the kitchen. They can hook you up with a glass of wine.”
“Wine sounds amazing right now.” She smiles weakly before entering the house.
Taking a moment to myself, I stand outside in my wool socks. Coloured leaves litter the ground, and the evening air has cooled. I can smell a hint of smoke in the air. Wrapping my cardigan tighter around me, I watch Riot as he chases a giggling Ben around the yard – an equally excited Morgan joining thefun. This house deserves a family.Where the fuck did that come from? It’s way too soon to be thinking about having a family. We have only been back together for a minute.
“I’ve lived here for years, and I still don’t understand why Canadian Thanksgiving is in October.” Frozen in place, I can hear Beck talking before I can see her.
“The fall harvest happens earlier in Canada because it’s colder here. The entire point of Thanksgiving is to give thanks for the food provided,” Ryan answers her patiently as they round the side of the house.
“Huh, why didn’t I know that?” Her black curtain bangs fall over her face as she nods her head with understanding. Ryan reaches out and curls a wisp behind her ear with a familiarity I have never seen before between them.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “Did you guys come together?”
Startled, they both look up and quickly step away from each other. “No,” they answer at the same time.
“Look, I brought food!” Beck says quickly, raising a large fabric bag with black cats on it, high in the air. Good deflection, but I will be asking her about this later. “In full transparency I did not make it alone, Aunt Maggie helped.”
“It’s because she doesn’t trust you alone in her kitchen,” Ryan mumbles under his breath as Beck whips her head around to scowl at him.
Clapping my hands together, I say, “Okay. You will find everyone between the yard and kitchen. Help yourself to something to drink. Everything is ready so I imagine we will be eating as soon as Carson gets here. I’m surprised he isn’t here yet.”
“He texted me earlier and said he’s running behind, but he will be here soon. Ollie goat broke out of her pen again this afternoon.” Ryan holds up his phone before shoving it back into his jeans pocket.
“That goat is a menace.” Beck laughs, her long skirt twirling as she spins and continues towards the house.
Turning back to Ryan, I catch him watching my friend walk away. “Is there something you need to tell me, Ryan?”
“Nope,” he says, shaking his head and avoiding the question. “I better take this food inside so it can stay warm in the oven.”
By the time Carson arrives, the house is humming with conversation and laughter. Country music plays quietly from the living room where Ben is building a Lego set that Beck bought him.
“I made bread!” he announces proudly as he holds two loaves of artisan bread in the air.
I watch quietly as Meg takes the bread from him and brings it to the counter to slice. “You made this?” she questions.
“I sure did,” he beams proudly. “I have been successfully keeping my nana’s sour dough starter alive since she moved into the long-term care facility last year. Her name is Bella. The starter, not Nana. Her name is Cathy,” he rambles on excitedly. “Anyways, this bread is tricky to make, lots of stretch and folds and waiting, but I think I finally have it mastered,” he explains, miming the movements beside her on the counter.
