These six people are involved in a Thanksgiving story you won’ t want to miss
Story : Dorothy Haskin Illustration : Violet Lanquist
B ecky Lou stared wide-eyed at the turkey on the table in the Thomp son kitchen. It was the biggest she had ever seen. “ It weighs 24 pounds,” Diana bragged. “ I suspect we’ll have an even larg er one,” Becky Lou said with a sud den feeling that she had to have everything that Diana had and more. Everything in the kitchen was so bright, the shining stove with the glass oven, the drainboard covered with packages and the carrot tops hanging over the edge. It made Becky Lou feel that she had to have things, too. “ Oh, I don’t know. Our turkey is pretty large,” Diana’s full face shone with pride. “ But we got so many kids,” Becky Lou backed her claim to a big tur key. Of course, three wasn’t so many children but Diana was the only one in her family and being a bigger family, to her, meant that they ought to have a bigger turkey. Only Becky Lou had a feeling that they wouldn’t. Mrs. Thompson looked up from the table where she had been running oranges through a grinder. She wiped her hands on her apron and smiled, “ I know you’ll have a wonderful Thanksgiving.” Becky Lou smiled. Mrs. Thompson always made her feel good. For moth er, said Mrs. Thompson, was the most do-good woman she knew. “ Perhaps your mother will make cranberry relish.” “ I don’t think she knows how to make it. We’ve never had any at our house.” Becky Lou edged nearer the table. Mrs. Thompson put the or anges into a bowl with the ground
cranberries. It looks good. Becky Lou decided, “ I gotta go now.” As Becky Lou trudged down the road toward home, she thought that this Thanksgiving had to be special. Holidays weren’t always so special at their house. Her dad was a trucker and didn’t always work steady. And her mom wasn’t strong. But she would pray and ask God to make this Thanksgiving special. She prayed, “ Lord, give us an extra special Thanksgiving tomorrow, every bit as good as that of Diana’s. In Jesus’ name, amen.” The air was nippy and made her face tingle. It was just the right kind of day for the one before Thanksgiving. She ran around to the back door and into the kitchen. There was no mother at the sink— at the stove—or even working at the table. That was odd. Her mother ought to be making things for Thanksgiving the same as Diana’s mother had been. “ Becky Lou,” came a faint call. Becky Lou hurried into her par ent’s bedroom off the kitchen, asking, “ Is that you, Mom?” Becky Lou’s heart sank real low. Her mother was sick in bed. Hadn’t she just prayed for a grand Thanks giving, and here was her mother too sick to get dinner. Becky Lou could cook some things. But there would be no turkey for sure. There wasn’t even a chicken in the icebox. Deer Meat; Not Cranberries Mother had not been able to do any shopping. “We’ll have to use the deer meat that Mrs. Anderson is letting us keep in their deep freeze. Maybe you could run over and get it now.”
“All right, Mom.” It was a good thing they did have some venison to use at times like these. And the Anderson’s had been so kind to let them use their deep freeze for the deer Dad had shot early in the sea son. She brought the package home and set it on the drainboard to thaw out. The next morning Becky Lou put it on the stove to make stew. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of stew for Thanksgiving. Chuck, her brother, who was a year younger, tossed his hair out of his eyes and grumbled, “ Everyone else has turkey for Thanksgiving. We haven’t even got cranberries.” “ I know,” Becky Lou nodded, watching the water bubble around the meat. Diana even had cranber ries with oranges. It wasn’t fair. She went into the livingroom where her dad sat in the easy chair with Rose Marie on his knees. “ Dad,” Becky Lou said, her eyes filling with tears, “Aren’t we even going to have cranberries?” “ I’m afraid not. I was so upset last night about your mom that I forgot to go to the store and now it’s closed.” “ But it won’t be Thanksgiving without even cranberries.” Tears rolled down her face. “ Here, here.” Her dad put Rose Marie on her feet, crossed over to Becky Lou and put his arm around her. “We’ve lots of things to be thank ful for. Why, we’ve got a nice home.” Becky Lou looked at the divan on which Chuck slept. It was faded and they didn’t have a large rug, only pieces, here and there. She didn’t answer.
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THE KING'S BUSINESS
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