Title: It's Only a Turkey
Disclaimer: The characters from the Ghost and Mrs. Muir belong to 20th Century Fox and David Gerber Productions. I make no money off of them.
Rating: K
Summary: Carolyn attempts to cook Thanksgiving dinner for her family
Timeline: November 1969
Carolyn got off the phone with her mother, letting out a heavy sigh as she sat back in her chair. She was happy for them, really she was. She knew her mother had always wanted to go on a Caribbean cruise, had hinted at it most of Carolyn's life, and now it was finally going to happen. Emily Williams would be leaving in just one week for Miami, Florida where she would be boarding a ship along with her husband and they would head for the deep blue waters of the Caribbean. And Carolyn was very happy for them.
But it left somewhat of a kink in her plans. She had decided after not going home the year before for the holidays that this year they would. She had worked hard to get her articles written, put aside some extra money, and told Martha that she should go and see her mother. The housekeeper was leaving two days before Thanksgiving and would be gone for a week.
But really, how hard could it be to cook one tiny Thanksgiving dinner? It would be just the three of them, well four if you counted Captain Gregg. She wondered if he would like to be included in the family day, and hoped that he would. Despite what she might tell herself, it wouldn't be the same without him. And for that thought, her face turned a bright rosy color." That will be enough of that Carolyn."
Writing down the ingredients she would need, she wondered if she should get them now, or wait until just a couple of days before. And what exactly did one need for a Thanksgiving feast? Let's see, turkey, dressing, cranberry sauce, sweet potato casserole, some kind of salad, rolls, and some kind of vegetables. That sounded like a lot of food for just them.
But this would be good. They could have the day, their own way, with their own traditions. It would be nice just the three, no, well hopefully the four of them. She paused in her list making, hearing the but so plainly as though it had been spoken. What exactly were her traditions?
She had never had a Thanksgiving of her own. Growing up she had of course spent the day with either her parents or some relatives. She could remember more than one holiday where they had actually eaten with more than one family. Those had been so hard because after the first meal, she was full but couldn't disappoint, Aunt Katherine or Grandpa Williams or Mrs. Feeney by not eating something.
In college, she had still usually gone home, or to Janie or Suse's house. During her marriage, they had eaten most of their seven Thanksgiving meals with the Muirs, two she could remember at her parents, and many times it was both. After wards, it had been the same deal, family or friends and the one they had had here at Gull Cottage had mostly been Martha's doing.
Letting out another sigh, she crumbled the piece of paper she had been writing on, making a neat throw into the trashcan.
"Story not going well my dear?" the ghost of Gull Cottage appeared before her. "Anything I can do to help?"
"I wish it were as simple as my story not going well." she pulled out another piece of typing paper and laid it down on the desk. "As you know I was planning to go home for Thanksgiving this year."
"Yes, I know." he nodded. He leaned against the front of the desk, his long legs at eye level. Not for the first time she wondered briefly, an almost heathenish thought--did he have actual legs under there, or was it all just ectoplasm? But surely anyone who filled out his trousers the way he did-'-never mind Carolyn,' she scolded herself.
"Well, my mother just phoned and said that Dad is taking her on a Caribbean cruise and I just couldn't tell her that we were planning to come this year." she stopped.
"A cruise, how nice for them!" he turned around to face her, his blue eyes sparkling. "I hope they have a wonderful time. But I guess that does affect your plans somewhat, doesn't it?"
"It does. And since Ralph and Marjorie were already going to be out of town, going to Philly now seems pretty senseless."
He couldn't tell from her expression if she was saddened or somewhat revealed by the thought. He knew she hadn't been home since arriving at Gull Cottage the year before and in that time had they had grown close enough for her to tell him some of the reasons why she was hesitant to return to her home.
Still he knew she had many friends there and whenever someone from her past would call, her eyes would light up, her dimples would cleft just right, she would smile that cute way she had and she was even prone to giggling! He loved to make her smile but there was a small piece of him that would love to be the cause of one of her girlish giggles.
"What about some of your friends?"
"Paul and Susannah are going to her grandparent' s house in New York and Janie and Doug are redecorating and are staying in an apartment. They would be happy to have us, but I wouldn't want to inconvenience them. It will be fine, staying here. I do have some confidence in my cooking ability." hoping he didn't notice the way she was rubbing her neck, a sure sign of agitation.
"Don't worry my dear," he said in an assuring tone. We will make sure everything will work out fine. It wouldn't be the first time, I've cooked a turkey or made a savory stuffing." But before she could say anything, he had disappeared into the ether.
Why did he always do that! Why was it every time he said something half way to being sweet, he disappeared? Oh, if he wasn't already dead, she thought for not the first time. But he was willing to help! She couldn't explain that feeling that coursed through her at that statement.
They had grown much closer this last year, despite a rocky start shortly after school had started. It had been both of their faults, but it had been her fault first she thought. Even though she knew he wasn't, well, real, it was so hard to remember that when he was near. One look into his blue eyes, and the rest of the world seemed to fade away. Not to mention, he was just so big, his mere presence filled any room he was in.
There were times, especially when he was being helpful and kind that she could forget that he was merely a spirit. And there had been many times since she had arrived at Gull Cottage where he had been there for her, helping and encouraging, always ready to lend a hand. True, there had been times when she hadn't wanted it, but he had been willing.
And she loved to watch him with the children! Now that Candy knew of the specter's existence, things had become so much sweeter. He was very patient and kind with both Candy and Jonathan, helping them with problems of all kinds, some as simple as homework, others more complicated.
It was watching him with her kids that had made her realize how she felt about him. In the beginning, there had been "us"--and "him". But now those lines were becoming blurred, to where there was really no distinction. And her first thought at that discovery had been to draw back. She didn't want her children to become attached she thought. She didn't want them fall in love with this seaman who could never really be a part of their lives. It wasn't an easy road to discover that it wasn't Candy and Jonathan she was afraid of getting hurt, but herself. She had been cruel, demanding he keep to his world and she to hers, he retaliating back with his silly rules and his grumbling. She had tried to do things her own way, knowing that at this point, her way was his way and vise versa. It still scared her to think of how she felt for him, and while she was fairly sure he felt the same, she wasn't completely sure. Maybe he had a nice little ghost friend somewhere, or he was just merely being a gentleman. Did he know how her heart beat out of control when he leaned over her or how she thrilled to see him first thing every morning, or how she couldn't sleep if he wasn't there to bide her good night.
She allowed herself to dwell on those thoughts, for a moment, then shook her head and sighed. That would be enough of that she smacked her hands together. Thanksgiving. That was the topic and the question and it would be met head on. It would be their best ever, she was sure. Well, she hoped.
Candy had learned how to make sweet potato casserole in school, she told her mother and she was sure she could make it for them. Martha had left two pumpkin pies in the freezer and also the fixings for apple turnovers. Carolyn was sure that she would be able to handle the turnovers; she had watched Martha make them a hundred times. It wasn't hard. Jonathan wanted to get in on the preparations too, and it was decided he would make the Jell-O--strawberry banana with fruit cocktail, his favorite.
She knew how to heat things up, and was thankful that the corn and vegetable medley only required that. Both were in the freezer, and would put into pans right before eating. They had potatoes to cut up and mash, and she figured that couldn't be too difficult either. She knew how to peel a potato and thanks to her late husband, she knew how to bake one. Except, they weren't baking them they were mashing them. But that's what Betty Crocker was for right? Spying the cookbook on the counter, she brought it over to the table, making sure it was in plain sight. Betty would make sure they ate properly this holiday.
The turkey had to be ordered a head of time and she had picked it up from the grocery store just that morning. Unlike the stores in Philadelphia that boasted many brands and sizes, the small store in Schooner Bay, didn't carry them except on holidays and only for those who paid in advance. "Lucky you got here when you did Mrs. Muir." the grocer told her as he had taken her order. "Martha usually has your order in, at least two weeks before a holiday."
"Yes, I know, but I didn't realize I would be there for Thanksgiving. " She had felt the need to explain.
"Well, I should be able to get you a nice one, but you cut it awfully close."
It was a nice turkey, all 20 pounds of it. She unwrapped it from it's paper, not sure what to do now. After staring at it for a few minutes, she told herself to get it together. It was only a turkey. She had watched one being cooked, many times, well, maybe once or twice. Usually she saw the bird in its cooked state. "Betty Crocker." she murmured, looking for the page on fowl. It just couldn't be that hard.
Reading over the directions in the cookbook, she was ready to try. According to what "Betty" said, if she put the turkey in now at 8:00, it would be ready for a nice 1:00 dinner. That would give her plenty of time to get the other things prepared, as well as watch some of the parade with the kids.
Both of them had eaten long ago, cereal with milk and toast and were now enjoying a day at home in front of the television. When Candy was 3, she and Bobby had taken her to New York, along with his parents and they had gone to the Macy's parade. She considered it her parade and never missed it.
"If you stare at the turkey long enough do you think it might cook itself?" Captain Gregg popped in to stand beside her, a look of amusement on his face.
"Very funny." she rolled her eyes. "I don't appreciate your humor."
"I'm sorry my dear." he said in a voice that meant he wasn't sorry at all. "I did volunteer to cook the turkey and let you do the stuffing."
"I know you did and I do appreciate it, but I want to do the turkey."
"I won't say another word then." and shut his mouth tight.
"Uh-huh." was her only reply. She knew he was thinking about her fiasco with the Christmas tree the year before, something he would never let he live down. But this, this would be different.
The directions were quite simple--take the giblets out of the back and the neck out of the front, then salt the inside. The dressing would go into the body of the bird, which then would be placed face down a flat roasting pan and cooked for 4 hours. Basting would be required at intervals. It also said if she wanted she could rub the outside of the turkey with herbs that would help keep it moist. And oh yeah--- to rub the outside with oil.
Taking the giblet sack out wasn't too hard; it came out with only two tugs. She knew that some people made gravy from the items in the brown bag, but she knew she wasn't that talented. But like her Grandmother Williams, she would save them and cook them later, giving Scruffy a treat. The neck was supposed to be easy, but it wasn't quite. That part of the turkey seemed to be still partly frozen and it was stuck fast. She yanked at it twice, let out a blast and yanked it again. Captain Gregg was happily chopping celery and apples for his dressing, intent on his work, humming a tune. She watched him for a minute, noticing how his long fingers held the knife so expertly. He had told her not long ago, that his mother had talked about him being a doctor, when he was young. He certainly had the hands for it, she thought.
Once more she reached down in the cavity, getting the neck in reach and gave it a big yank. It came flying out of the turkey, down the front of her dress and falling to the floor. Hoping Captain Gregg hadn't noticed, she picked it up and walked it over to the garbage can, washed her hands and went back to the waiting turkey. The seaman was now adding walnuts to his celery and apples, not seeming to be aware of what had just happened.
She pushed her hair off her forehead, sighed and picked up the salt. Once more she looked in her book, "salt the turkey cavity lightly" Pouring some into her hand, she rubbed it, in side the bird, deciding then and there she didn't like the feel of raw fowl. It wasn't slimy or anything it just felt strange. "Okay, salted. " she said aloud.
"Excellent." Captain Gregg looked over at her for the first time. "The stuffing is almost ready. I just need to add the broth." She looked over at his mixture of cornbread, eggs, walnuts, apples, raisins, onions and celery and wondered how it could possibly turn into something edible. Maybe that's why she couldn't cook; it didn't make any sense to her.
She watched him as he poured the broth into his mixture and then scrunched it all together with his hands. "Did you oil the turkey?" he asked her.
"Oh, no." she shook her head, reaching for the bottle. Carefully she opened the lid and held it over the turkey, waiting for it to cascade down the sides like she had watched her mother do. It didn't. Instead it globed down the sides, the whole bottle seeming to gush out.
"Blast!" she screamed out, panic rising. "Pull the bottle up, my dear." she heard the Captain say, and then felt it float from her hand and onto the table. "Just smooth it over the skin, it will be fine."
The oil did go over the bird just fine, but it took forever to wash off of her hands. Maybe this was why she didn't like cooking--it was just too messy. Afterwards, Captain Gregg showed her how to put the stuffing the turkey and then to sew it up. "And now you are set." he told her. "If you'll open the oven door, I'll put it in for you."
She did open the door, waiting for the heat to come pouring out, but was only met with the cold, bare, oven. "I forgot to turn it on," she moaned, and this time the word was stronger than blast.
"No worry, my dear." he smiled at her with a hint of glee and affection. "'Tis an easy fix."
He told her he would do it for her, but she insisted and soon the gas had caught on and the oven sprung to life. After letting it reach the approved temperature, he very neatly put the roasting pan in the oven and told her to set her timer for 4 hours. "Now, you can relax for a couple of hours, before you need do anything else."
An hour before the turkey should be done, Candy and Jonathan came out to help what they could. Jonathan's Jell-O was setting beautifully and he asked if he could mix some Dream Whip for the top. Candy's casserole looked very pretty Carolyn thought, topped with nuts and marshmallows and was ready to pop in the oven, the minute the turkey came out. The table was set and the sparkling cider was chilled.
Carolyn thrilled to the fact that there was once more, four place settings on her table. She had somehow gotten used to having the whole bed and the whole closet but for some reason, she still could tear up at the fact that there were only three of them to sit around the table. Sure, there was Martha and she did make four, but it was a very different kind of four. That empty chair at the head of the table was the loneliest thing she knew of. It reminded her of that horrible song from the Civil War about the vacant chair, and how they always set it like it's owner was coming to join them even though he was in heaven.
It was nice to see it full once more, and she couldn't feel a little excited at who would be filling it. As if he could read her mind, he smiled at her and she blushed. "Thank you for joining us today Captain." she said trying to cover her red face.
"It is my pleasure, madam." he nodded. "My greatest pleasure."
Half an hour before, Carolyn brought out the mixed vegetables, placed them in the pan and turned on the burner. Soon steam was rising from the top and she stirred them carefully. The smell of the turkey was filling the small kitchen now and she was beginning to feel as though she might just pull this off.
When the timer went off, she ran into the kitchen, eager to see what the turkey would look like. In her excitement she almost forgot the hot pad and came dangerously close to grasping the oven latch without them.
"That would not have been a good idea." the seaman chuckled as he opened it for her. "Now, watch yourself, it's very hot."
Making sure the hot pad was secure; she took the lid off the roaster, looking down at her turkey. It was beautiful! "Oh." she squealed, "It looks like a real turkey."
"Let's get it out and make sure it's done," he told her, clearing a space on the table for it. She carefully lifted the pan, placing it where he indicated, placing the meat thermometer right above the breastbone as "Betty" instructed. It shot up to the desired temperature of 160 degrees and she squealed again.
"Okay." she smiled. "It says to let it sit for a few minutes to make the carving easier, so Candy why don't you finish up your sweet potatoes and I'll pour the drinks. Then we will put the turkey on the platter, and Captain Gregg could you carve it?"
"I would be happy to my dear, but I really feel that honor should go to you. After all you conquered it successfully. " And he gave her a smile."
The four of them worked diligently for the next few minutes, Candy keeping a watchful eye over her marshmallows, Jonathan putting his Jell-O in the pretty crystal cups that were only used on special occasions. The table was groaning with the food, all of it in pretty Blue-Willow bowls.
Once Candy took her casserole out of the oven, the marshmallows all brown and crispy on top, carefully placing it on the hot pad reserved for it, Carolyn decided it was time to take the turkey out of the roaster.
The bird had been resting on a "lifter" a wire rack that had handles attached and was designed to make getting the turkey out of the pan, an easier task than usual. Carefully she lifted the fowl out of the pan, looking the browned turkey over with pride, before attempting to free it from the lifter and place it on the waiting platter.
The turkey had no intention of letting go. She shook the rack gently, willing the turkey to slide off, but it held fast. "Blast." she muttered under her breath. Surely there had to be a way to get the turkey off. Once more she tired to push the turkey with one hand, her other holding onto to the rack. It wouldn't budge. Sitting the lifter down once more, she took a fork and slid it around the edges of the turkey, hoping to free it from the metal. Then she once more picked up the lifter and tired to slide the turkey onto the platter. Apparently the fork had done the trick, because the turkey was loose now and headed for the platter, but then decided to keep on going. Before she could even think or scream or cry, that beautiful glorious 20 pound turkey was laying breast down on the floor, stuffing oozing out of the sides.
"Oh Mom!" Candy managed, Jonathan staring with his mouth open.
"Mrs. Muir." Captain Gregg said her name like an oath, a look of disbelief on his face. "My dear, I'm so sorry."
It looked funny lying on the brick floor, its legs sprawled open. She wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry and did some of both. Scruffy, who had always been a smart dog, took advantage of a good thing, seeing no one else going towards the turkey, he ran for it.
"Scruffy! No!" But it was too late. The little dog had already sunk his teeth into the warm flesh, not even caring it was a little to hot. His tail wagged happily as he ate, only pausing to look at up at his mistress with an affectionate look.
"Anytime Scruffy. " she sighed, sinking down into a chair. "At least someone will have a good Thanksgiving. " she shook her head. She laughed because it was funny and because there really wasn't anything else to do. Candy started laughing as well and soon Jonathan and Captain Gregg were caught up in it. They laughed until tears streamed from their eyes, while Scruffy ate.
"I guess we should see what else we might have to eat." Captain Gregg suggested as he shooed the little dog away.
"Too much turkey and you will turn into a pig." he told Scruffy. Picking him up, he put the dog out on the service porch and much to Carolyn's amazement began to clean up the remains of what was once their Thanksgiving dinner.
Just then the acrid smell of burnt copper began to fill their noises and Carolyn grimaced as she ran to the stove to find their mixed vegetables, burned to a crisp. In all the excitement she had forgotten to check on them.
"Down on turkey and one pan of veggies." she sighed.
"What are we going to do now, Mom?" Jonathan asked, looking mournfully at the turkey remains, now stacked neatly on plate.
"Well, I know it's not the same, but knowing my luck with anything involving stoves and food, I also bought a canned ham when I was at the store. I know it's not turkey, but we can lace it with cloves and pineapple and I bet it will be quite good. And it only has to be heated." she gave them all a weak smile.
"It will be just great Mom." Candy smiled at her, going over to give her a hug. "I'll get out a pan."
"And I'll get the cloves and pineapple." Jonathan headed for the pantry.
"We don't really need the vegetables," he added as he reached up on tiptoes to reach the spice rack. "I mean we can get along without them."
"Yes, we can." she shook her head, throwing out the scorched mess of peas, carrots and lima beans into the garbage, wondering if the pan should follow.
"Hey Mom?" her son stuck his head of out of the pantry, two cans of pineapple against his chest. "Does candy corn count as a vegetable? We've got a bag left from Halloween."
"Today, Jonathan, I'd say it does. " She smiled, feeling much to happy for someone who had just ruined Thanksgiving dinner.
The ham didn't take long, and was soon sitting in the place of honor in the middle of the table. The sweet potatoes, Jell-O, rolls and the extra stuffing adorned the main dish, glasses full, and plates ready.
"I believe today we have much to be grateful for." Carolyn said. "And we should thank God for providing us with all his blessings--wonderful children, and she took the hand of her son and daughter, "a good house, a table full of food", and looking over towards the head of the table her gaze lingering on the seaman, "and good friends."
Her prayer was short but said what was in her heart and everyone listened in reverence
and respect.
This had been the best Thanksgiving ever.