"Tell me again why we're doing this?" Nicole groaned as she slapped blindly at the blaring alarm clock.
"Because it's Thanksgiving..." came Peter's reply, muffled by the pillow he'd pulled over his head.
"Did the Pilgrims have to get up this early to shove breadcrumbs up a turkey's ass?" she grumbled. Unwilling to leave the comfort of the bed, she moved back towards her husband, seeking the warmth of his body.
His arms were already open, ready to receive her with a sleepy sigh as she nestled comfortably against him. "That's my dinner you're talking about, you know..." he protested softly. "And you're the one who offered to have Thanksgiving here this year."
"Yeah, and you're the one who didn't stop me from opening my big mouth."
"I didn't stop you from doing it last night either..." he grinned wickedly.
A soft snicker drifted up from beneath the blankets. "You're bad."
The grin spread from ear to ear as Peter's hands moved across the soft flesh of his companion. "That's not what you said last night."
"You'd better not be starting this unless you mean business, Pal..." Nicole warned halfheartedly. "Because I have a turkey the size of a Volkswagon downstairs that needs to be taken care of."
Barely restrained laughter erupted from his throat. "What if I have something the size of a Volkswagon up here that needs to be taken care of?" he asked.
Both bodies occupying the large bed began to shake with laughter. "I'd say you parked that car in my garage plenty last night," she choked out, wiping the tears from her eyes as she sat up. "I have to go cook now."
Peter's head emerged from beneath the pillow to watch through half-open eyes as his wife climbed out of the bed and reached for her robe. The past two months had seen changes in both of them. While his own scars had begun to fade and his strength returned, so had hers. They were both a few pounds short of their target goals, but he could no longer clearly count her ribs, and she'd stopped making fun of his skinny legs. At a recent dinner at the Blaisdell house, after many glasses of wine with dinner, his wife had volunteered to host Thanksgiving, much to his surprise. Holidays had never been her 'thing'. "Need some help down there?" he offered.
Nicole shook her head in refusal. "Nope. I don't want you anywhere near anything hot or sharp today. It's a holiday and I don't want to spend it down at County."
The wry smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he let his head hit the pillow and his eyes drift shut again as he heard her leave the bedroom. "I'll keep the kids out of your hair when they get up."
The house was silent as she made her way down the stairs and headed into the kitchen. The refrigerator and freezer were both crammed with groceries purchased for the day, as well as several large coolers. Pies had been baked earlier in the week, and the house had been festively decorated the day before by Peter and the kids. Large construction paper turkeys hung on the front door - Paul's showing off his burgeoning artistic flair, and Cait's somehow managing to look like it wanted to peck out someone's eyes. Peter had helped Bethany with hers, though there was no way of convincing their youngest that turkeys didn't have lips.
"I don't know why I'm bothering with you..." Nicole muttered to the enormous bird as she wrestled it out of the fridge. "It's a holiday, and that generally means we're gonna wind up eating hospital food."
"Who's it gonna be this time?" she asked the turkey as she started her work. "Peter? Maybe his one good kidney will shut down? Or maybe one of the kids will fall and break an arm? Annie perhaps? Or maybe Caine? Lots of guests this year, the possibilities are just endless." She paused as she took a large knife from the drawer and eyed it warily. "Or maybe it's me? Is that it? You're gonna get me this year?"
Nicole jumped as the sound of giggling behind her startled her from her dialogue. "Bethany..." she sighed as her heart-rate began to slow again. "What are you doing up so early, Munchkin?"
The sleepy toddler looked up at her mother with large hazel eyes and shuffled towards her, arms outstretched.
"C'mere, Munch..." Nicole whispered, bending to scoop her youngest up into her arms. The little girl's head dropped to her mother's shoulder as she began to fall asleep again. "What are you doing up so early?" Nicole repeated softly, gently touching her daughter's forehead. *Is this it? Bethany's sick?* she asked silently, still waiting for the shoe to drop on their plans. The child's forehead was cool, showing no signs of fever.
"Monster..." Bethany yawned.
"Monster? Where?" Nicole asked, starting to smile.
"Unner da bed..." came the sleepy reply.
With a serious nod, Nicole hugged her daughter reassuringly and started for the living room and the stairs. "Okay, well how about if you snooze for a few more with Daddy and then later we'll go monster-chasing?" she asked, receiving only a nod against her shoulder in reply.
*****
Peter woke nearly two hours after Nicole had vacated the large bed, and stretched languidly until his feet encountered giggling resistance. Eyes sliding slowly open, the twins came into focus. Sprawled out at the foot of the bed, the two elder children averted their attention from the cartoons they'd been absorbed in, to their waking father.
"The X-Men are on..." Cait prodded, reaching to shake her father's foot.
Peter couldn't conceal the half asleep smile. "Oh, good... Don't want to miss them."
Cait grinned as she moved towards the head of the bed, trying not to wake her sister, who was curled up around Nicole's pillow, sound asleep. "Who's your favorite?" she asked.
"Gambit," Peter replied without hesitation. Actually, Gambit was the only name he'd caught and could remember from watching the show on Saturday mornings with them over the last year.
"Mine too," his oldest daughter nodded.
Peter pulled his firstborn into a playful hug, kissing the top of her head, and marveling at the way things had turned out in his life. Just twelve months earlier they'd spent a rather morose holiday together, quietly having dinner at Paul and Annie's since Peter's attempts at cooking had failed miserably. Though the Blaisdells had been more than happy to accommodate the extra stomachs to feed, the children had been subdued and uncomfortable. For his part, Peter had been borderline hostile for most of the day for reasons he'd only begun to understand just a few short months ago.
A quick glance at the clock brought a smile to his lips. *The holiday has officially begun and none of us have been admitted to the hospital, abducted, poisoned, brainwashed, surprised by long lost relatives, gotten amnesia, had a psychotic episode.... This could actually work.*
Memory jogged, his hand reached to the nightstand and removed a bottle of pills from the drawer. Dry-swallowing a capsule, he replaced the bottle and turned his attention back to the children. *Thankful for all of this...* he sighed inwardly.
After two weeks in the spare room downstairs, Peter had been deemed well enough to handle the stairs, and had been promoted to the master bedroom. Little had changed in his absence. The dark green walls and matching down comforter, the light wood furniture and the massive four poster bed, all the same. Conspicuously absent had been the framed wedding photos, which had been on the dresser, and even those were back in place after a few days. Sleeping in that bed the first night back upstairs, the bed they'd brought with them from the penthouse, had truly felt like coming home.
Physical recovery had been a long, arduous process. Taking a deep breath without pain, taking a walk around the block without tiring, making love to his wife, all milestones on his road back to life. All things for which Peter was thankful for daily. He had a lot of lost time to make up for, but somehow he'd been given the chance to do it. Cait was more than thrilled to have him home again, and Bethany seemed to treat his presence as an extended weekend visit. Paul, on the other hand, seemed to regard his father's return with a wary apprehension. Though there was no open hostility, the boy clearly harbored doubts his father was home to stay.
With a final sleep-vanquishing stretch, Peter sat up. "Okay, who wants to go to the bakery with me and get some of your mom's favorite bagels?"
*****
"Nick?" Peter called in as he opened the kitchen door. "I'm taking the monsters out to grab some bagels for breakfast. You want the usual?"
"Two of the usual," she requested with a slight smile, pulling her head out of the fridge. "And one of the UNusual."
Peter grinned broadly, a devilish gleam in his eyes. "Didn't get enough of the UNusual last night?"
"Gawd, are we still talking about the Volkswagon?" Nicole smirked.
"Nope, we're talkin' about the Stretch Limo now...." he replied, ducking quickly as a tangerine whizzed by his head. "Nice!" he laughed. "With our luck that thing could have put out my eye and we would have been eating hospital food for Thanksgiving... Again!"
"Oh, my God," she gasped. "You're right. Please, please, please be careful out there, okay? Please?"
Peter nodded, in serious agreement with her, suddenly realizing he was tempting fate by even getting out of bed on a holiday. He turned away from the kitchen door and surveyed the dining room, his eyes now taking in the room, and all its hidden dangers. "I'll be back..." he uttered with determination.
Nicole watched as the Jeep pulled out of the driveway, absentmindedly chewing her thumbnail and wondering how long it would be before the phone rang.
*******
The small town of Castleton was only five minutes from the large Colonial the Caine's called home, and boasted one of the best bakeries Peter had ever set foot in. Nicole, usually the earlier riser, frequented the place on Sunday morning, getting breakfast for everyone.
As the light at the intersection of McNeill and Hallstrom turned green, Peter tapped the accelerator and started across the intersection. He was nearly halfway across when the shriek of rubber on pavement froze the blood in his veins.
Peter's foot slammed down on the accelerator, the rear bumper of the Jeep missing the front end of the Taurus by inches. His heart in his throat, he eased off the gas pedal and braked. "That was way too close..." he laughed tightly. His eyes shifted to the rear view mirror, glancing at the three children in the back seat. Cait glared out her window, then stuck her tongue out at the shrinking taillights of the Ford as it roared away. "Take THAT, Mr. Stupidhead!" she yelled angrily.
Peter cringed, suddenly wondering if he would survive in a house with Nicole and Cait both having PMS.
Taking a deep breath, he gripped the steering wheel and started off towards the bakery again.
**********
Nicole hung up the phone, having assured her mother, for the eighth time, that she had everything under control and didn't need to bring anything besides the wine. Yes, she'd put the turkey in the oven hours ago, yes she had everything she needed, no she hadn't burned the pies... Phone replaced in its cradle she checked her watch and dashed for the stairs to get dressed, nearly tripping over Mimsan the cat on her way. *Great... fall down the stairs, break my neck, leaving my twisted, lifeless body for my husband and children to find when they walk in the door. Terrific.*
***********
"Where are they???" Nicole muttered to herself, beginning to pace the living room. "How long does it take to go get bagels??? Jesus, I made a freakin' fruit salad and got dressed since they pulled out of here!" Her eyes flickered nervously towards the phone. "Shouldn't have let them all go. On a holiday, I actually went and put all my eggs in one basket. Or in one Jeep to be exact. Should have gotten bagels yesterday. Should have told him the bakery was closed today. Should have told him bagels cause cancer and I can't eat them anymore...." The former detective cast her gray eyes heavenward. "You're enjoying this, aren't you? Torturing me. You're probably sittin' up there laughing and giggling... You're starting to make me feel like my whole existence is just one weird event after another, strung together by some great cosmic author with a really warped sense of humor."
The sound of a car in the driveway brought her anxiously running to the window. It was a Jeep! *Shit! It's Doug's Jeep,* she scowled, recognizing the handsome pediatrician and her sister climbing out of the vehicle. *At least there will be a doctor in the house,* Nicole consoled herself, moving to let in the first of their guests. The hug-ducking had begun.
Less than a half hour later, Monique began setting the table for breakfast, and Doug was settled on the couch with a cup of fresh coffee. Peter and the kids had not yet returned.
"Nicole, give it a rest, you're making me dizzy," Doug pleaded. "C'mon, take a load off for a few and watch the parade." He patted the sofa next to him.
"You don't get it, you haven't been around this family long enough to know," she tried to explain as she paced back to the window. "Peter can get into trouble crossing the street on an average day. And this is a holiday! The probability of one of us getting injured shoots up astronomically on holidays."
"Nicole!" the young doctor laughed. "Come on! You're being superstitious. It's a holiday, the bakery is probably just really crowded. Peter's probably standing patiently in line, staring at his watch, with the kids getting ready to gnaw his arm off. Everything is going to be just fine. You'll..." His voice trailed off as his eyes began to widen, something on the television catching his attention.
"What?" Nicole asked, eyes still glued to the window.
"Ummm, Nicole... what bakery did you say Peter went to?"
"Les Alpes over in Castleton, why?" she asked nervously, turning around. The sinking feeling she'd had all morning had just plummeted her heart into her stomach.
Doug's voice held quiet incredulity as he watched the news report flashing across the screen. "Because it just blew up..."
"BLEW UP?" Nicole exploded as she dashed to the television Doug was watching. Her eyes landed on the screen as her knees gave way and she collapsed onto the couch. "The bakery blew up?!"
Monique walked softly into the living room to stand behind the couch, watching the newsflash with her sister, her face paling considerably. "Oh, my God. Nicole, are you absolutely sure that's the bakery they were going to?" she asked quickly.
"Positive, it's the only one that makes really good chocolate chip bagels," she mumbled, her body and mind going numb. Gray eyes remained glued to the TV, looking for some sign of her family in the midst of the chaos which had erupted in downtown Castleton. "How the Hell does a bakery blow up?! I gotta go, I gotta get down there," she blurted out. Autopilot finally kicked in as she jumped off the sofa and bolted for the door. Her hand flashed out to grab her keys off the table in the hallway. *I knew it. I KNEW it! I knew the bakery was a dangerous place to send him. I knew he should have taken backup!*
"Nicole, wait!" Doug called, chasing after his girlfriend's hotheaded sister. "You're not getting behind the wheel of a car, I'll take you."
With scarcely a nod of acknowledgment back towards the pediatrician, Nicole whipped open the front door and charged out, slamming into Peter as he reached the top step, sending them both toppling to the ground. Nicole landed atop her husband, bagels and containers of assorted cream cheese raining down around them on the frost covered ground.
"NICK, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Peter gasped in surprise and more than a little pain. *Oh, yeah... I knew I wasn't getting out of this day without at least one good bruise... At least the doctor is HERE,* he silently ammended as his eyes landed on Doug Ross standing in the doorway.
"ME?! What are YOU doing?! I thought you BLEW UP!"
"Blew up?" he laughed breathlessly, staring up into her face. "Nick what are you talking about? And... nice as this is.... you on top and all... " he grinned wickedly, "...do you think we could continue this conversation inside, vertically, or without an audience?"
Monique hurried out past the two prone bodies, relief plain on her face as she herded the kids into the house, carrying the remaining bags of bagels in with them.
"The bakery blew up," Nicole explained shakily, moving off Peter to kneel at his side. "We just saw it on TV. You guys were taking so long to come back..."
"It's a holiday, there were about a million people in there... "
"...and you know what our luck runs like on holidays..."
"...and we almost got creamed by some jerk running a red light on the way there... "
"...and I thought you'd all gotten toasted just because I needed chocolate chip bagels..."
"It blew up?" he repeated, incredulous.
"Blew up," she nodded, starting to smile in relief before tackling him back to the ground with an enthusiastic kiss. "And you were NOT in it..." she laughed.
"No, I wasn't," he grinned back up at her as his arms snaked around her. "I've been shot, stabbed, poisoned, abducted, had amnesia... but no, I've never been in an exploding bakery. By the way... your parents are here..."
Nicole's eyes flickered up to catch sight of her parents standing a few feet away. They stood curiously staring at the sight of their daughter lying atop their son-in-law on the front lawn.
******
Nicole and Peter kept a close eye on each other and the children during the course of the day. Nerves were stretched thin by early afternoon when the last of their guests had finally arrived. Nicole had discovered having her hands full of food was an effective evasive strategy, making hugging virtually impossible.
Paul's hand was saved from being badly burned on a hot dish of sweet potato pie coming out of the oven by Nicole, who grabbed the dish with a pot holder seconds before his bare hands contacted the burning dish. "Honey, I know you want to help, and someday your wife is gonna be real happy about that, but... How about going out to the living room and seeing if Uncle Kermit and Grandpa Paul wanna hack into the CIA computer with you. Okay?"
With a short-lived sigh of relief, she watched her son head out in search of his hacking buddy. The sigh was cut short as her eyes drifted to the window and she caught sight of Peter. Her husband was quickly closing the gap between himself and his eldest daughter, who gave merry chase to the cat in the back yard. Both kitty and child were heading for a swim in the koi pond. Dropping the bowl of stuffing to the counter, Nicole dashed for the back door.
"CAIT, NO!" Peter yelled as his arm shot out, saving the girl from a swan dive into the pond as the cat jumped over the water with lithe grace. Mimsan the cat then bolted into the house, nearly felling Annie Blaisdell, on her way into the kitchen to assist a harried hostess.
Fifteen minutes later, the man of the house nearly became the neuter of the house as a butcher knife, left too close to the edge of the counter, took an unexpected trip to the floor. The utensil clattered to the floor at his feet as he jumped back. His face pale, he looked to Nicole, who also paled at the sight of the small at the sight of the tear in the front of his pants. A dramatic whimper escaped his lips.
"Great," she stammered. "The one thing I was most thankful for."
Thirty seconds later, she watched those pants fly out the door as Peter bolted into the back yard. "CAIT, NO!" he yelled once again. With a record breaking dash, the young detective was just in time to catch Cait on her way from the top of the jungle gym to the ground, arms flailing after teetering and losing her balance. The child was then ushered into the house, and assigned a 'watcher'. Peter was fairly certain his foster father would keep the little girl out of trouble, and Paul was only too happy to oblige.
"If I could get you through puberty, I'm relatively sure I can get this little one through to dinner time..." Paul laughed.
"You're a funny man, Paul Blaisdell." Peter attempted to scowl. He would have liked to have joined in the relaxed banter and friendly conversation. He was just too nervous. His eyes just couldn't seem to stop roaming, always on the lookout for the hidden dangers which seemed to lurk in every corner of the house. He finally got up the nerve to brave the staircase, to go change his torn slacks.
Monique and Caitlyn helped Nicole get dinner on the table while the men prepared to eat too much, and then spend the rest of their holiday in front of the big screen TV.
By the time the turkey and assorted foods made it to the table, stomachs had begun to rumble. The smell of turkey, sweet potato pie, and all the fixings had been drifting out of the kitchen for some time. The salvaged bagels had long ago been devoured. The large dining room table had been supplemented by the kitchen table in order to accommodate family and friends.
"Grub's on," Nicole called, following her mother and sister out with the last bowl. She saw a moment later that she needn't have announced it, since everyone was already sitting at the table, forks in hand. "Men," she grumbled.
Placing the bowl of cheddar mashed potatoes on the table, she got the high chair out, and looked to Peter. "Where's Bethy?"
Peter's head snapped up. "I was just about to ask you."
"Ask me? Why would you ask me? You had her ten minutes ago!"
"No, I didn't, I thought you had her in the kitchen with you! You check the den, I'll check the living room..." He leaped out of his chair and started for the other room. "She couldn't have gone far."
They both turned at the sudden draft coming in through the open front door.
*******
"I knew we should have moved to that deserted island..." Nicole muttered worriedly. She and Peter had been moving methodically up and down the street for the last twenty minutes, calling for Bethany. They'd knocked on every door on the short street, finding most families had gone out for the day, and they had both begun to wish they'd done the same.
"She couldn't have gone far, Nick, we'll find her," Peter promised. Though his words were certain, his voice betrayed the frantic worry in his heart. "Next week I'll put that fence up around the yard." He only wished he'd gotten around to the task last week.
"BETHANY!!!" Nicole called again, stopping to listen closely for any sign of reply. There was none.
Back at the house, friends and family had begun to search the house from top to bottom. Kermit and Karen took the upstairs, while the rest of the family searched downstairs and the back yard. Bethany Caine had definitely inherited the Caine wandering gene. The little girl had been on the go since the moment she'd first discovered crawling.
"I've never seen two more luckless people in my life..." Doug Ross reflected out loud to his girlfriend.
Monique nodded in agreement, peering into the bushes in the back yard in case Samantha had gone exploring again. "I know. It scares me to think it might be genetic. I can't imagine living like this. Always waiting for the next shoe to drop."
"These people have an awful lot of shoes..." the pediatrician muttered. "Any sign?" he asked Paul Blaisdell as the older man came out the back door.
"Nothing," he informed them with a shake of his head.
*****
Kermit glanced back at his wife, now down on her knees, peering beneath the bed in Cait's room. "I can't believe this... Those kids definitely take after their father..." he muttered.
"You've looked under the bed for Peter?" Karen asked, glancing up at him.
The sad part of the question, Kermit later reflected, was that he honestly had to think back to determine his answer. "No," he finally replied. "Ten more minutes and I'm calling in for a squad car and help."
"Agreed," Karen answered with a heavy sigh.
Kermit opened the door to Cait's closet to hear the sound of childish laughter. With a rush of relief he pulled back the clothes hanging on the low rack to uncover his goddaughter, Bethany, sitting among Cait's shoes on the floor, covering her eyes and giggling hysterically. "Hide 'n seeeeeeek!!!!" she cried out, slapping Kermit's ankle as though to tag him "it".
********
Bowls and platters of food made their way from the table back into the kitchen for re-heating as stomachs rumbled in protest once hugs and scoldings had been administered liberally by two distraught parents.
"That's it. Not only is the fence going up, but we're getting a leash for that one," Nicole declared, laughing in near hysterical relief.
Peter had scooped up his youngest and refused to put her back down. "I think we'll all feel better if your feet aren't on the floor, kiddo," he told her.
********
Once dinner was finally served, again, and family and friends were all present and accounted for around the dinner table, Nicole and Peter allowed themselves to marginally relax.
As Doug and Caitlyn Connelly were the only true church-goers of the group, Doug said the blessing over the food, giving thanks for the feast, for health and happiness, "...and most of all, for having our family, whole and reunited, again."
He smiled fondly as his wife took his hand and continued. "This has been a year full of ups and downs, but the good Lord has been watching over our family, as this day has proved. time and time again."
Monique, who sat next to her mother picked up as the family and friends went around the table. Though the reunion of the family was primary on nearly everyone's lists of things to be thankful for, Paul was also very thankful for the new computer, "...and hacking..."
Cait grew tearful as she lamented, "...and Burpy woulda loved these carrots..."
"My family is back together..." Peter smiled, reaching for his wife's hand. "And the members of the family who aren't here physically, are here in spirit. Pop, Kelly, Carolyn... "
Nicole, who sat between her father and her husband, was the last one last one remaining to speak. When she'd remained silent for an extended period of time, Peter nudged her arm gently. "Nick?"
"Nicole?" her father smiled over at her. "What about you, Honey? What are you thankful for this year?"
As a wicked grin crept across her face, Peter reached over and clapped a hand over her opening mouth. "She's thankful for all the same," he laughed. "Let's eat."
**********
Dinner and dessert, football on TV and an impromptu game of touch football in the backyard, all occurred blessedly without incident or injury. Peter, Doug, Kermit and the kids played, while Nicole sat by, First Aid kit by her side.
As the sun went down and the air turned from crisp to cold, the remaining guests filtered into the living room, and the roaring fire. Monique and Doug had taken their leave after the game. Monique was heading for home, and Doug was heading to the hospital for his shift. He sent up a silent prayer he wouldn't be encountering any of his girlfriend's relatives there before the night was over, but he realistically held little hope.
By the time leftovers were taken out for a snack, only Kermit and Karen remained with their little girl, who had been assigned the monumental task of keeping the younger kids from harm's way. By the time the kids had begun to fade, one by one falling asleep on the floor in front of the fireplace, even the Griffins had taken their leave.
Peter reached for Nicole, pulling her closer to him on the couch. "Carry them to bed or leave them there?" he murmured sleepily in his wife's ear.
"I don't think I can move. And the day isn't over yet," she yawned. "I'd feel better with them where I can see them."
The fire crackled on the hearth, the flames providing the only light in the room. "I think we're safe..." he whispered, brushing a kiss against her temple.
"Is it midnight yet?" she asked, pulling his arms more securely around her.
Peter opened one eye to glance at the mantle clock. "Two more minutes."
Nicole whimpered tiredly. "The house could be engulfed in flames in two minutes, maybe we'd better douse the fire... "
"All things considered, it was a good day. Lots better than last year was. I meant what I said at dinner. I'm thankful for all of this. For you, for the kids, for the second chance..."
The clock on the mantle whirred and softly began chiming the midnight hour, bringing a sleepy smile to Nicole's lips. "And I am so thankful this day is over."
The End