Here's Thanksgiving for all of you guys.


Friday Morning

"Natalie Brisk, are you day dreaming about that fireman again?" Ms. Montana asked the younger woman.

Pushing her blond hair behind her ear Natalie smiled. She did not have to look at the old woman to know that her friend had already known what she was thinking about again.

Just thinking of that Halloween night when Natalie tried rescuing that cat was enough for her to blush. It was the kind of blush she could feel all the way to her toes. It was the kind of blush that had Natalie wondering what it would have been like to have just said her thank yous to the nice firefighter John Gage.

"What good would it have been if you had just stopped by that fire fighter's station just to say thank you to the poor boy?" Ms. Montana asked as she poured some white powdered herb into the mixing bowl. "It's not like you didn't know where he worked."

For an answer, Natalie stayed quiet. A sure sign she had not wanted to talk about that particular conversation.

"Is this too much cane sugar, you think?" Ms. Montana changed the subject.

It was not that their baking was anything nasty. They were baking cookies.

"I don't think it's too much sugar." Natalie said once she had tasted the batter. "What are you making this time?"

"Thanksgiving cookies for the soup kitchen. What are you doing for this autumn festival? What are you thankful for, Natalie?"

Taking some of the basil and bay leaves off the window sill potter, Natalie again could not contain the smile and the memories of the time when her life had been hanging on a limb, quite literally actually.

"I am thankful for John Gage the firefighter. I am thankful that I am here and that I am alive." She sighed and again she smiled.

Ms. Montana smiled at the young woman but she did not say anything about it.

"One of the things that I have to talk about in the class is about the history of Thanksgiving." Natalie spoke. "Thanksgiving history is so hard to follow if someone does not know what to look for."

The older woman made a sound as if she was thinking. While she mixed the bowl of dough on the counter in front of the other large window, behind them a sleek black cat jumped up onto the kitchen table. It meowed, me-uffed and then settled for a sneeze. The sneeze alone kicked up some loose flour that was sprinkled on the table top from the rolls that Natalie had made earlier.

"Shoo, shoo, get off that table you naughty cat." Ms. Montana waved a spoon slathered in batter at the cat.

After much deliberation the cat got off the table and wondered over to the little flip door that went out to the back deck of the old house.

"That cat causes more trouble than I care to know. Recently it was you and that tree, those birds have not been back since he tried sleeping in their nest last spring and he chased the mailman, can you believe that?"

"There are many things that are unbelievable in this world that no one can understand but it is there." Natalie said.

"Such as love. Like you have for that nice young fireman."

"I am not in love with John Gage the fireman." She twirled around to look at her dear and close friend. "I can't be. Can I?"

"I don't know. But it does seem like the magic in romance is what you have right now."

"If it is meant to be with me and John Gage then it would have happened. Right?"

"The universe takes time to move, it's an awfully big place. Just like Los Angeles County is."

Glancing up at the clock, the old Coo-Coo clock, the one with a raven that popped in and out of it, Natalie sighed. "Great, I am going to be late for class. All because I was thinking of a fireman."

"You are usually so careful about getting there on time. I'm sure your class will understand. See, I told you. It's that boy, John Gage, he is the one."

Taking off her apron and dropping it on the counter next to the mixing bowl she was working with, Natalie turned around.

"Your home is so magical, Ms. Montana." Natalie said looking at her friend. "I wish my home was just the same as yours."

"It will be in due time. You have many years to master it just like I have with mine. Maybe then you will have a certain fireman wooing you with treats and candy and flowers."

"I can only hope so, Ms. Montana." Picking up her purse from the stand in the doorway of the kitchen next to the violets in the vase, Natalie waved at her friend and hurried out the front door.

Her cherry red jeep was sitting out there in the driveway, behind the closed iron gates waiting for her to drive off back towards civilization. That was okay though, it gave her enough time to think about what she was going to say to the class.


A twenty minute drive further into LA County and Natalie was in the parking lot of the Douglas MacArthur school. She barely got into the classroom when the bell rang.

"Whew." She swiped at the spot of sweat that was sliding down the bridge of her nose. "Safe!"

"Ms. Natalie, you made it." A little girl said from the middle row of the classroom.

"Of course I made it. Do you really think I would miss today? Now, let me catch my breath and then we can start our lessons for today."

"Ms. Natalie," a young auburn hair girl raised her hand as the woman got to her desk. "My Uncle won't be spending Thanksgiving with us this year."

"Oh, I am sorry to hear that, Emily." She said taking out her papers and putting one stack on the corner of her desk. "Does he have to work?"

"Yes, ma'am. He's a paramedic. He helps people."

"That's nice. People must really be thankful that he helps them." Natalie smiled. "And on that note, let start with History today, with it being so close to Thanksgiving."

Emily DeSoto raised her hand again. Two years prior, the DeSoto son named Christopher had been in Natalie's class. They both had round faces and the same smiles, even all the way to the same teeth, slightly big. Having only met Mrs. DeSoto, not Mr. DeSoto, she could only guess that the kids got most of their looks from their father.

"Yes, Emily."

"Uncle Johnny doesn't like Thanksgiving."

Puffing out some air that blew away a string of her hair from her eyes Natalie thought about it. "Your Uncle Johnny, is he Native American?"

"He's a Indian." The girl said.

Natalie shook her head. "Indians are from India, Native Americans are the Indians Columbus met when he founded the Americas. Why do you think your Uncle Johnny doesn't like Thanksgiving?"

"Because it, uh, it, it's bad." Emily looked down at her hands, fingers linked and her blue eyes looking down.

The other kids in the class all took a simultaneous intake of air. Natalie knew that she would have to talk about this hard subject and have to explain that not all cultures got along during the early history of America.

"He says the Pilgrims hurt the Indians after the first feast. I heard him and Uncle Chet talking about it when I went to see Daddy at the Station."

Natalie bit her lip, closing her eyes in an attempt to block out other stimulations around her.

"Well, I suppose he is right abut it, about the Pilgrims not being nice to the Native Americans. But that Thanksgiving was a long time ago, and times change, so do people. So tell me, class, what do you think a real Thanksgiving is about?"

After that, the History of Thanksgiving was forgotten and Natalie was given the run down of what Thanksgiving meant to each of her students. From food to family, they all relived their favorite times.

"What are you going to do for Thanksgiving, Ms. Brisk?" One of the boys asked.

That was a hard question. "My family lives far up in the mountains and there really isn't enough time for me to go up there and be with them. I usually spend Thanksgiving by myself or with a soup kitchen that a dear friend of mine works for." Glancing at the clock there were three minutes until the next subject. "All right class, let's get ready for your mathematics lesson early."

The response was a groan from every child in the room.


A/N: Well this is a start. Tell me what you think. And have a safe and Happy Thanksgiving.