Thankful for Love (21 page)

It was complicated enough organizing her part—the food. She arranged for pickup on Tuesday of the two huge turkeys and the ingredients for the side dishes she would prepare—green beans, mashed potatoes, and cornbread dressing. The next step was confirmation with the other guests that there would be sweet potatoes and cranberries, plenty of predinner nibbles, wine and sparkling cider, and pies of every sort from apple to pumpkin to pecan and at least two kinds of cheesecake.

She was so busy getting things ready for the big day she didn't have any time to worry about meeting a whole new set of Jack's friends.

On Thanksgiving Day, Quanna arrived at the ranch before Jack had made his usual 5:00 a.m. appearance so she could get the turkeys into the twin ovens. When he got downstairs, he distributed the place cards the boys had made while she finished setting the tables and placing the flower-and-candle-filled pumpkins in strategic places. Breakfast was at the kitchen island and was basic—toast, juice, and, for the adults, coffee. A lot of coffee.

It all went so smoothly, Quanna was able to relax for a few minutes and visit with Jack's siblings and their spouses when they got there early to lend a hand. She wasn't even nervous when the guests she didn't know began to arrive. Everything was on track to work out.

• • •

The adults were seated at a long line of tables running down the center of the dining room and, after a right angle turn, through the living room. The kids were at tables in the family room. It was noisy. It was frantic. It was the Thanksgiving of Jack's fondest memories, and he loved it. All the people who mattered to him were there.

He and Quanna sat at the junction of the line of tables from one room to the other where he always sat so he could see all his adult guests when he made his annual toast. As the platters of carved turkey were brought to the table, he stood and asked for everyone's attention. When there was enough quiet, he began.

“Here we are together again at the end of a busy harvest season, to give thanks for a pretty decent year. So, the first toast, as always, is to all of you, my friends and family. I'm grateful for all the hard work you put in every week of the year to ensure our mutual success.” He raised his glass and took a sip. With big smiles and shouts of “cheers,” the guests followed his lead.

“Next, I'd ask you to toast the people who helped put on the feast today. We're all thankful for what you brought for us to enjoy.” Glasses were again raised and a few lucky cooks got kissed.

“Last, a special toast. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, as most of you know. But this year is more special than usual. Those of you who were here for the Civil War game a couple weeks ago got to meet a special woman. I hope you all get that privilege today.” He turned to Quanna, sitting beside him, to direct his words to her. “This year, I'm thankful I have you to share this day with.” He touched his glass to hers. “To Quanna.”

He took a sip of wine, then kissed the top of her head before he sat down. “Okay, folks. Let's eat before it gets cold.”

He noticed two things before he got caught up in passing the numerous serving dishes around. Quanna was wiping a tear from her eye, and Anne Salazar hadn't touched her wine for the last toast.

• • •

Dinner was over, at least the main course was. Parents had gone into the family room to see their kids; old friends were visiting with each other. It was the half-hour break needed before the dessert course appeared.

Barbara, Quanna, and Amanda cleared the dinner plates. Then Barb and Amanda went to check on their kids, promising to return when it was time to slice pies and cheesecakes. Quanna, who was to start the two huge urns of coffee perking, slipped out of the kitchen to the powder room off the mudroom while it was empty. She was washing her hands when she heard two male voices from the kitchen. One of them belonged to Jack. The other man didn't sound familiar; he did sound a little the worse for alcohol. She started out of the powder room but stopped when she heard the strange man say her name.

“What the hell is this with Quanna, Jack?” he said. “I mean, it's all well and good to invite an Indian to Thanksgiving. Hell, even the Pilgrims did. And maybe you could get a pass for hiring her. She probably works for less than a white woman would. But introducing her as your date is going too far. She's no good for you. You know that. They're all tramps. You'll be the laughing stock of the county.”

“Lenny, you're drunk so I'm going to forget what you said. But you need to shut up. I won't have Quanna insulted in my house.”

“It was Paula's home, too. What do you think your poor dead wife would say about this piece of Indian trash in charge of her kids? For all you know, she's stealing from you. And I'm sure she moved into your and Paula's bedroom, the little slut, where she plans on staying unless you wise up and kick her out. She knows a good thing when she sees it.”

“I'll say this one last time—shut up or you have to leave.”

“You can't throw me out. My wife is ...”

“Audrey is the only reason any of us tolerate you. But even she won't be able to protect you if you don't stop running on at the mouth about Quanna. I love her. She's a permanent part of my life now.”

“You can't be serious. No one will have any respect for a guy who stoops to her level to get laid.”

“That's it. You're out of here.” He must have grabbed Lenny in some way because the next thing Quanna heard was a struggle in the small hallway leading from the kitchen to the back door. She stayed in the powder room, swallowing hard to calm her stomach, which was roiling from the tension she felt. She heard the back door close and Jack return to the kitchen. She knew she had to escape, to go someplace where she could get the ugly words out of her head, but her feet seemed frozen in place.

It was just as well she didn't move because the scene wasn't over. There was pounding on the back door. In a few minutes, Jack returned to the hall with a woman, apparently Lenny's wife. As they walked to the door, he told her what had happened, then asked her to take her husband home to sober up.

No sooner had the door closed again then there was yet another voice in the kitchen, trapping her even longer in the powder room. A woman's voice asked Jack what was going on. She sounded familiar, and when Jack said her name, Quanna realized why. It was Anne Salazar. Jack explained what had gone on with Lenny Dickson, not pulling any punches about the insults leveled at Quanna. She shuddered hearing the slurs for the second time.

Anne was quiet for a moment before saying, “You know I love you, Jack. And I want you to be happy. But I can't totally disagree with Lenny. He may have said it rather crudely, but I think on some level, he's right. I voiced my hesitation about hiring Quanna when you interviewed her. I haven't changed my mind. You need to find someone more ... more of our kind ... more like us.”

“You mean someone white?'

Anne didn't respond, but she must have made some indication of agreement because Jack went on. “I can't believe what I'm hearing, Anne. Paula loved and respected her Indian pupils the same as her white pupils. Surely you knew that.”

“Don't throw my daughter's opinions in my face. I knew her, too, and I doubt this ... this
arrangement
is what she had in mind for her sons or her husband after she was gone.” Her tone softened, became almost wheedling. “You know I only want what's best for you and the boys. But I don't think Quanna meets the criteria.”

“I, and Daniel and Lucas, respectfully disagree with you.”

“How can you be sure about the kind of influence she'll have on your boys? What do you know about her background, her family, her education?”

“I know more than you do. I've met her family. I've seen her work with the boys doing homework—hers and theirs—and I've seen the good grades the kids are getting after the nosedive they took when Paula died. She's the best thing that's happened to all three of us in a long time.” His voice was getting harsh and strained. “If you feel so strongly about Quanna, maybe you'll feel more comfortable not coming to see the boys here.”

“You wouldn't dare keep me from seeing my only grandchildren.” Her voice had anger in it.

“No, I wouldn't. But I also won't force Quanna to deal with someone who clearly doesn't respect her. When you want to see the boys, we'll make arrangements for them to come to you.”

Anne made a noise like a strangled cry.

“Look, let's not make this any worse than it is right now,” Jack said. “Come back into the living room. We'll talk about this later when we've both had a chance to think about it a little more.”

Stunned into inaction by what she'd overhead, Quanna wasn't sure how long she waited before peeking out of the powder room to make sure no one was in the kitchen. Jack and Anne were gone, but now Barbara and Amanda were there. They'd begun to cut pies and cheesecakes into slices, chatting, apparently oblivious to what had gone on before they arrived.

Unfortunately, Quanna was not.

After all the promises and reassurances she'd gotten about how nothing offensive would be said about her in this house or by Jack's family or friends, she had heard the kind of ugly words she had feared she would. Because of who she was, Jack and the boys would suffer. It was exactly like she'd told him it would be.

And now she had to decide what to do. Should she pretend she hadn't heard? Wait to see if Jack told her about the conversation? Act as if everything was fine until he did?

Well, it wasn't fine, and she couldn't pretend.

What she could do was run. Luckily she had hung her coat and purse in the mudroom when she'd arrived so she grabbed them and ran out the back door to her car, praying it hadn't been blocked in by someone else's vehicle.

It took some maneuvering, but after a few minutes, she managed to get out of the yard full of cars and pickups and was up the driveway on her way home, away from the ugly words now rattling around in her head, words which had made this the worst holiday of her life, which woke her up from her dream world to the nightmare she had been afraid was always there. She'd have to leave the Richardson Ranch permanently. Had to protect the man she loved, the kids she loved, from what was just under the surface of Jack's world.

It was the only thing to do even though it meant her plans for graduating from college were once again on hold. She'd be back to square one, forced to move into her childhood home so the little money she made at the resort could go to her mother.

And today she was supposed to be thankful? For what?

• • •

 Jack saw his sister waving from the kitchen, clearly trying to get his attention. He was still seething from the last time he'd been in that room and wasn't anxious to return, but Barbara looked determined.

“What's up, Barb?”

“I think Quanna just left. Did you send her someplace to get something?”

“No, she should be around here. She was going to start the coffee.” He realized what he had said and what must have happened. “Shit.” He went into the mudroom and saw her purse and coat were gone. “Goddamn son of a bitch. She was in the back hall and heard.”

“Heard what?”

“Lenny Dickson calling her an Indian tramp and Anne Salazar agreeing.”

“I'm not surprised at Lenny. He'll say anything when he's drunk. But Anne? What got into her?” Barbara asked.

“I don't know, but I have to go after Quanna.” He glanced outside. “My truck's blocked in. Can I borrow yours, Barb?”

“Of course. My purse is in the front hall. I'll go get the keys. But what should we tell people?”

“Tell them Quanna felt sick, and I'm making sure she's okay. Can you ...?”

Amanda shooed him out the back door. “Go around and meet Barbara outside the front door so you don't have to answer a lot of questions. Don't worry about anything here. Go find out what's going on. Tell her we're worried about her.”

• • •

“Quanna? Sweetheart? I know you're in there. Open the door so we can talk.”

She'd ignored the initial knocks on the door, figuring it was Jack, knowing she didn't want to talk to him, hoping he'd go away. But now he was making so much noise her neighbor would be sure to come out into the hall.

She opened the door. “I don't want to talk to you right now.”

He stepped inside before she had a chance to close the door. “Talking's exactly what we need to do.” He reached for her, but she avoided his embrace.

“Please. Don't.”

“I know what you overheard. And I'm sorry you had to be subjected to such garbage. But, sweetheart, Lenny's a drunk and an ass. We only put up with him because we've known his wife all our lives.”

“And Anne? Do you just ‘put up' with her?”

“I can't explain what she said. It shocked me. But you can't take what you heard to mean everyone feels that way.”

“It was bound to happen. I was foolish enough to believe you when you said it wouldn't because I wanted so much for it to be true. But it isn't. What happened today is what's true.” She swallowed hard and put on her most determined face. “So, I have to stop living in my dream world. It'll never work out between us because of people like Anne and your friend. That's reality.”

“You think ignorant comments will change the way we feel about each other?”

“What I know is those kinds of comments will ruin your reputation and make it hard on the boys, which is what I've been trying to avoid. We can't go on like this. Not now that I know ... we know ... what I was afraid of was there, under the surface, all along.”

“This doesn't have to change anything. We can work it out. I know we can.”

“And I'm afraid of what will happen if we try, Jack.”