A/N:

Hi all! Thanks SO much for all the great reviews and story adds. Really you are awesome :)

This is part 2 of the Thanksgiving chapter which I started writing pre Planksgiving episode and finished... well today.

Reviews are always appreciated so please leave one if you can!

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything related to Hart of Dixie including but not limited to the characters and Planksgiving


Wade POV

Whoever said love was easy wasn't in love. Not that I was flat out in love with Zoe Hart, but I had stirrings, and if those weren't easy full on being in love must be hell.

Zoe and I had spent some time working on a list, but she and George had managed to get most of the folks in town. About an hour in, when she started yawning, I figured that hell – she wouldn't know any of the names I was telling her to write down anyway – so it'd be easier for her to just go to bed. I could finish the list and then we'd drive out to the farms first thing in the morning, and I could drop her off in town on the way back.

For someone who got more sleep than I did and had more riding on this than I did, you'd think she'd be the one banging on my door at 5:30am, but no. I was the one knocking then letting myself in to her place at ten past, only to find her still getting ready. "What are you doing? We need to go. The people that work on the farms are usually eating breakfast by six; we need to be there by then."

"I know, I know… I'm ready, I just… I need my… shoe," she said looking under the bed. And God help me in that business skirt… there's only so much a man can withstand.

"Come on doc," I pushed, turning to the side. She may as well have been partially nude. It was getting harder and harder to focus on things outside of her and how badly I wanted her when she was nearby.

"I'm ready!" She said, popping up in front of the door. "C'mon – we have farm people to schedule appointments with."

Good grief.

We got to the family with the farm the furthest out of town, Mr. Fillaby, his wife and his three kids, a little after six. The introductions were about as awkward as you can imagine, and I asked if Mr. Fillaby could show me the engine he'd just put into his tractor since I was looking to fix a buddy of mine's tractor and hadn't a clue on how to pick out a good one.

"Well ya see son," he started, pointing to the chunk of metal.

"I'm sorry sir," I interrupted, shaking my head. "I asked you out here for another favor. This has nothin' to do with my buddy and his engine."

He nodded. "I'd really like to help Wade but we already see Dr. Breeland. He delivered our youngest."

I nodded quickly. "I understand that sir, but Dr. Wilkes, delivered your first two and Dr. Hart – the woman inside – that's his daughter. And she's been here a couple months now and she's just tryin' to get her feet under her, here. It would be a big favor to me, personally if you brought your family in just for a check-up before winter.

He looked at me and I couldn't tell if he had taken offense to me pushin it or if he was thinkin it over. "You and this Dr. Hart… you two…" he trailed off.

I shook my head. "No sir."

"But you want to be."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "No, no… she's just a friend. And Harland was a friend. I'm just tryin to help out is all."

"Uh huh," he nodded. "Funny. I never had a lady friend that looked that good in a skirt that I'd wake up before sun rose before, to have to pull in personal favors for."

I bit my lip, and shook my head again. "Just friends, Mr. Fillaby, just friends."

He nodded again, closing the hood of the tractor. "I'll send my family in, but I'm cashing in on that favor, for your own good because no one else apparently has the sense to tell you any better."

I tried not to roll my eyes because I had been raised to respect my elders but I nodded. "And that would be…"

"Even if it's just a note sent by pass of a hand like in high school, you will tell Dr. Hart how you feel about her by Christmas. Do you hear me?"

"I already told you Mr. Fillaby—"

He shook his finger at me, telling me to hush up. "No, that's not what I said boy. You and I both know it. And the family and I will be in town just before the New Year and I'll be able to tell if she knows. A man who is in love always knows."

"You're in love with Dr. Hart?" I laughed.

"Don't sass me," he scolded. "A man who has been in love, especially one who has been in love for almost twenty years, can always spot a woman who has been told that a man is in love with her. So I'll know. And right now that woman, that super genius doctor you want my family to get treated by don't have a clue."

"So that's it? I have to tell Zoe – Dr. Hart – how I feel, in some way, shape or form by Christmas?"

It sounded a whole hell of a lot easier than it was gonna be.

"Yep. I'll tell the missus to make an appointment for this afternoon. It'll be good for the kids too, maybe they can get a new eye patch or hat for Planksgiving."

I nodded. "Well alright then," I told him sticking out my hand.

"Alright then."

Zoe POV

I never understood the people of Bluebell. Sometimes I wondered if they were all Vulcans with their own language to get things done. Like the way that I couldn't convince the Fillabys to come in for a visit despite my credentials and the various flu viruses going around, and how far out in the country they were so they were more susceptible to passing flu strands. But Wade goes out to talk about an engine motor and suddenly Mrs. Fillaby and her three children are coming in to see me at 11AM.

It was the strangest thing; but the best thing – since it meant I'd more than met my 30%, since Lavon was coming in too (after some begging, pleading at 1 in the morning – completely professional). Now I could go into my Thanksgiving holiday in New York, relaxed and worry free.

Wade dropped me off in the middle of town around 7, even after I asked him to drive me back to Lavon's, saying it was too far because he had to go back to the Fillaby's to talk about the tractor.

I didn't understand what else there could be to talk about tractors or why he'd want to do that instead of say, sleep more, but whatever.

The day was long between patients. Lavon came in at 8, saying how he just wanted to get this over with. Once we were inside behind my closed office door he was a bit more open about how uncomfortable he felt about doing this when he felt fine. I tried to enforce how it was important to visit the doctor even when you were feeling well, so that I, as his general physician would be more adept at spotting signs that something was wrong – even if he had no internal symptoms.

By 8:30, Lavon was heading out, still shaking his head.

One down.

I grabbed coffee and toast from the Rammer Jammer before the Fillaby family came in, and thank God I had. Seeing them at dawn was a complete 180 from seeing them at 11. The children were awake and hyper – all of them. Mrs. Fillaby wasn't hyper, but she was a talker. It had been awhile since I'd had to try and keep up with as much information as she was letting out.

And at one point, I did have to turn out her gossip and fill in with occasionally "no, really?" and "oh, wow!" just so I could get through the exams.

Fortunately, aside from a small rash on Philip, the middle child's chest, everyone checked out just fine. I gave Mrs. Fillaby a couple of over the counter remedies to try that they hadn't already, and if after the holiday it was still there to come back and see me.

2PM. Nearly one hour per person – that never happened. But glancing at the clock a second time and then looking to Addie for confirmation as the front door shut behind Mrs. Fillaby it was true. In the 11th hour I had earned my 30%.

I made my final notes and shut the file of Fillaby, Martha before handing it over to Addie with a smile. "And now to New York for Thanksgiving, Black Friday, and a place where I don't stick out like a sore thumb."

"Just remember," Addie said, pointing her finger at me. "You can be more than one thing, and being a member of this community is not a bad thing Zoe Hart."

I smiled. I knew she was right, and I hadn't meant to insult Bluebellians in my statement; it was just going to feel really good to not feel like an outside for four days. To not get scowled at by the wives in town and made to feel like I was wearing a scarlet letter all the time because didn't wear head to toe frocks. It'd be nice to be able to plug in my cell phone, run my blow dryer and heat up my flat iron all at the same time. It'd be nice to sleep in my old room, with no mosquito nets, or bugs, or humidity.

Sure, Bluebell had its southern charms but I missed the bells, whistles and car horns of New York.

"Text me if you change your mind about wanting anything. I'm going to be shopping all day Friday regardless," I sighed contently at just the thought of a full day of nonstop, crazed consumer madness in Manhattan.

She laughed, shaking her head as I headed backwards towards the door and down to the Rammer Jammer to wait for Lavon who was meeting me there at 3 to take me to the airport.

"Whatever you said to Mr. Fillaby to make him change his mind, thank you," I stated, crawling onto the barstool in front of Wade.

"I just told him you were Harland's kid and you had chops for being from the city," he smirked. I hated that. I hated how he could take a thank you and instead of saying 'you're welcome' turn it into a backhanded compliment.

But I couldn't be mad, or even agitated. If not for him, I'd probably be crying and still scrambling for more patients.

"Well whatever it was, I owe you – big time. Now I can get on my flight back to New York without worrying a bit about Dr. Breeland."

He coughed. "Flight? You're going home for the holiday?"

I nodded, reaching for one of the menus lying against the side of the bar. "Yea, for four days; I'll be back Sunday afternoon-ish."

"Oh, I didn't know you were headed back to New York for it. I figured Lavon woulda told me, what with Planksgiving and all…"

I burst out with a short laugh and looked up at him. "I'm sorry, Planksgiving?"

"Yea," he smirked. "C'mon now, don't tell me no one's told you about Planksgiving?" He asked, leaning in a bit. "Why it might convince you to stay down here for the holiday after all. It's way better than plain ole Thanksgiving."

And so he went on to tell me about the Pirates and the town fish fry, and how it was part of Bluebell history… this was one of those weird Bluebell things I would have to pass on. There was only so much eccentricity I could handle between visits home and this one sounded like a dousey. But you'd never guess it by the way Wade lit up talking about it. He was like a kid, doing lunges, imitating how pirates used their swords. It was amusing to say the least.

"It sounds like a grand old time, but unfortunately I'm already checked into my flight. But! I do want to hear all about it when I get back. Down to every swashbuckling detail," I told him, shutting my menu as I saw Lavon's truck pull into the parking lot.

I thought I caught an expression of frustration or contemplation but I must have misread it because when I looked again he was back to grinning like always. "And I'm sure there will be plenty of people who will want to talk about it. I however, enjoy the day but enjoy forgetting it with the drinking that night, even more."

"Offf course you do," I nodded. Why would I expect a different response from him other than, 'won't remember – got wasted' or 'sorry forgot – was drunk'. That was his thing… outside of helping me out of really bad situations. Kind of a drunk knight in… torn Lee's jeans.

"Zoe! You ready?" Lavon shouted from the doorway.

I spun around on barstool and raised my hand. "Yep! Be right there!" I'd forgotten Lavon was waiting outside, weird.

"Well, have a good Pirate's… Planksgiving," I said to Wade once I was off the chair.

He nodded, biting his lip. "Yea, doc, Happy Thanksgiving to you and your family; I'll see ya when you get back."

I headed out and got in Lavon's truck.

"You alright?" He asked, looking from me to the entrance of the Rammer Jammer and back.

"Yea," I nodded, trying to shake the feeling that I'd be missing something if I left. I buckled up as he pulled out of the lot and turned towards him. "As the mayor, how come you never told me about Planksgiving?"

"OH! PLANKSGIVING!" He exclaimed. Again, someone who seemed all too excited to talk about it at just hearing the word. "Jeez I must have forgotten. Well it started when this hurricane hit…"

And the entire ride to the airport he retold the story of how Planksgiving came to be in Bluebell. Only, there weren't theatrics (which was probably for the best since he was driving) and it didn't have the same… appeal that Wade's version had, had.

Wade's version had been on the cusp of making me want to stay.