Although none of us had talked about it, I know we had all been dreading Thanksgiving, the first of a lifetime of holidays without our Mom and Dad. I personally thought I would have liked to just stay in bed all day and night until the holiday was over but Darry was not much for letting me sit around and feel sorry for myself, unless I actually was sick. Plus, having just barely recovered from the stomach bug, I was not too keen on even pretending to go through that again. It was Ben's mom who saved us from our self-pity. A few days prior she had appeared at our door inviting us all over for Thanksgiving dinner, and refusing to take no for an answer. She was smart enough to come herself; Darry would have had no trouble politely refusing Ben or even Kevin, but he couldn't say no to Mrs. Cummings.

So Thanksgiving afternoon, all of us Curtises dutifully washed up, made ourselves presentable, and trudged through our backyard over the fence bridge to Ben's house. Darry, not really able to think of anything appropriate in the way of food that we could bring, brought a floral centerpiece. Mrs. Cummings hugged each of us as we entered, taking the flowers from Darry.

"You know Darrel, you really didn't have to, but they're beautiful. You're such a gentleman, just like your Dad." I could see a hint of pride in Darry's face.

We sat down, my whole family and Ben's, and tried our best at pleasant conversation. I remembered when Darry had first told us all that our parents had died, how I had felt the reality of it hovering over us… Apparently, somebody had invited that reality to Thanksgiving dinner, because there it was, hovering over us again. I almost wondered how Darry could sit without having to duck to avoid it. The food was good, though I am sure we all were comparing it to our Mom's. I don't know about my brothers, but I spent a lot of the meal thinking about my Dad. He used to make a big corny production about how thankful he was for each of us kids, then carry on forever about my Mom's beauty virtues until she was laughing so hard she cried. She was so beautiful when she smiled. My Dad, fond as he was of strange names and nicknames, never called her by her real name, which was Mary Elisabeth. He called her "Mollybeth," "MollyMac," (her maiden name was MacIntyre) or just plain "Bethie." Every year after we ate he would crash on the couch watching football, exclaiming "That was the best Thanksgiving dinner ever, Bethie!" She would smile and when she had finished cleaning up she would sit on the couch with him, his head in her lap as they talked.

"So how's the basketball going, Scout?" Kevin startled me back into reality.

"Oh, OK I guess. I mean we're not gonna win any championships or anything."

"Well, I hear you're the best shot on the team."

I felt my face turn red and I changed the subject. "You guys coming to Darry's game Sunday?" Tulsa had a big game against their rivals from across the city on Sunday.

"Probably," Kevin said.

"Hey, can Scout ride out with us?" Ben asked. He knew I hated riding to Darry's games with Steve, who usually had to drive us since Two-Bit's car wasn't really reliable enough to take out of the neighborhood, and Darry went out early in the truck.

"Yeah, I don't see why not." Kevin didn't act like having me around was a big hassle like Steve did.

"Thanks, Kevin," Darry said. I know he would have rather had me with Kevin than Steve too. Steve and Soda got in too much trouble; he preferred me not being around the two of them together.

It seemed to me like we all played our roles well and came across as a family that, for having lost our founding members a mere two months ago, was managing to hold it together as well as could be expected. As we headed back home I knew we all were truly grateful to Ben's mom for having saved us from ourselves that afternoon. It would have been too easy to just sit around at home and feel sad.

Somehow we didn't really make it all the way home, and Pony, Ben, Soda and I sat outside in our backyard for a while. Pony was smoking, of course, and Soda and Ben were trying to think of a way that they could make a rope hang from a tree over the fence so we could pull ourselves up onto it instead of always scraping our shins jumping up. It sounded like a pretty decent idea to me but I had no interest in being involved in the logistics of it. I just sat and watched Pony smoke, listening to their conversation. After a while I heard the phone ring in our house. Pony threw down his cigarette and came and sat next to me.

"You OK?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. "I just miss them."

"Me too, " he said. "Remember Dad's silly Thanksgiving speeches?" I guess he had been thinking about the same thing at dinner that I had.

"Of course I do," I said. "That was the best Thanksgiving dinner ever, Bethie!" My voice cracked as I said it and Pony put his arm around my neck. "I hope I never forget all that stuff," I said.

"Well, There are four of us to help each other remember," he said.

"You should write about it, Pony," I said. "Then we'd always have it, written down."

"I can't, Scout. Not yet. Maybe someday… But not yet." I could understand that, it was all too fresh. We all needed some distance before we could really talk or write about it in detail.

"Scout!" Darry's voice was suddenly calling me from the back door.

"Come in here. Phone." I was confused. Darry had answered the phone at least 5 minutes ago. I couldn't imagine who he would talk to for that long that would also want to talk to me except maybe Ben, and he was outside with me.

I walked up to the door. "Who is it?" I asked.

"Uncle Pat," Darry said. "He wants to talk to you." Darry handed me the phone with a slightly baffled look. Uncle Pat usually did call and talk to my Mom and Dad on holidays but didn't usually ask for me. I took the phone and jumped up on the kitchen counter to sit.

"Hello?" I said.

"Hey Scout, it's Patrick."

"Hi Uncle Pat," I said. "Happy Thanksgiving."

"You too, baby," he said. "This must be a tough day for you guys. Are you doing OK?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Not that bad, I guess."

"I heard you went to your friend Ben's house?"

"Yeah," I said.

"That's good. Being with friends is a good idea." He said.

"I guess so," I said. He clearly wanted to talk to me about something else.

"So, Scout, I asked to talk to you because I need your help with something."

That was certainly not what I would have guessed. I had figured he felt worst for me on our first holiday alone since I'm the youngest.

"OK," I said. "I'll try."

"Scout, you know your brother Darry's a pretty stubborn young man, right?"

I had to laugh. "Yeah, I know," I said.

"Well, he's not making it very easy for me to do anything nice for your family," Pat said.

"That's him," I said. Darry was sitting at the table sorting bills and pretending not to listen but I knew he was.

"I asked him to bring you all down here for Christmas this year – we'd love to have you – but he said no."

"That sounds about right," I said. Darry was too proud to take any offers of support from Pat's family.

"So I'm asking you to help me out with a little secret, since you're a little more reasonable than your big brother."

"OK," I said. Darry was dying to know what was being said on the other end of the phone, I could tell.

"I want to send you some money, Scout, to buy your brothers a few things for Christmas, since he won't bring you down."

"You don't have to Pat," I said.

"I know that, Scout. I'm not doing it because I have to, I'm doing it because I want to. But Darry would never accept it. So I'm sending it to you. You get to be Santa. Think you can do that? You don't even have to tell the boys where the gifts came from, just make sure there's something there to make them happy on Christmas Day, OK? Can you do that for me, Scout? 'Cause I want to do it. Your Mom and Dad would have done the same for my boys."

He was right, they would have. I needed a moment before agreeing to be sure I wouldn't cry.

"Scout? Can you help me out?"

"Sure, Uncle Pat."

"That's my girl," he said. "Keep your eyes out for it in the mail, OK?"

"I will. Thanks."

"And Scout?"

"Yeah?"

"Hang in there, OK? Your brothers and all of us down here love you a lot."

"I know." The tears were starting a little.

"Ok, then. Bye, Scout."

"Bye, Pat."

Darry looked up at me as I jumped off the counter to hang up the phone. I tried to wipe away the tears before he saw them but didn't. He came over and hugged me.

"I miss them too, baby," he said.

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who has taken the time to review both Epiphany and Reality so far. I really appreciate it. The reason I have been able to post so quickly is because I have been working on this story for a really long time, but not entirely in order. Now that I have most of it done I am going back, editing, filling in blanks, and posting. I hope you will stick with it because there are unexpected things to come.

To the reviewer who liked my characterization of Tim Shepard... keep reading. Tim is full of surprises. The way I ended up writing him surprised even me!

Thanks, and please keep reading and reviewing and recommending me to friends!

samaryley