Giving Thanks
by
Owlcroft
Varying expressions of gratitude.
Lydia was in the Deetz kitchen working on the Thanksgiving menu for later that week. Delia had planned on cooking the entire meal, but Lydia – considering both her husband and her father – insisted on providing some of the side dishes and ensuring that the rest would at least be cooked properly.
Meanwhile, her husband and her father were exchanging food anecdotes in the study, not all of them humorous.
"The steak was still frozen in the middle and the potatoes were burnt. That's when I said we'd use the outdoor grill for cooking, even in the middle of winter!"
Beetlejuice chuckled, shaking his head. "If you want something done right . . ."
"Oh, don't I know it," sighed Charles. "That outdoor grill was the best idea you ever had."
"Nuh-uh. Best idea I ever had was –" he nodded toward the kitchen.
"Okay, that's true," agreed Lydia's father. "What are they doing in there anyway? They're laughing an awful lot."
"Probably having a little wine with the menu planning. We could go in there, too, you know." The ghost suddenly looked unsure and ill-at-ease. "But first . . . there was something . . . something I wanted to say." He hunched up his shoulders and frowned.
Charles looked at him interestedly. "Go on," he said.
"Lyds was telling me . . . well, we were talking about Thanksgiving and she said . . ." Beetlejuice sighed then and said in a rush, "She said she wanted to thank Deels for . . . for being, you know . . . a good mother to her and all that sappy stuff." He examined his left boot with great interest. "She's coming in here later to say some of that mushy stuff to you, too. But that made me think." He wriggled uncomfortably and scowled at the offending boot. "That maybe I should – you know, since it's close to Thanksgiving and all – all that mushy gratitude and thanks and . . . and stuff."
Charles smiled to himself and remembered that Lydia had told him to simply wait while her husband managed to sort his thoughts out and then express them.
"So I just . . . I just wanted to . . . to thank you," Beetlejuice hesitated, then forced his way on, "for . . . for . . . letting me – no, for taking me . . . into your family. You know," he finished quietly.
Stepping forward, Beetlejuice's father-in-law pulled him into a forceful hug. "Thank you, BJ. For being exactly the person my Pumpkin wanted and needed."
The ghost endured the hug, wrinkling up his face even though no one could have seen it. "You know she's . . . that she's everything to me. And I try to . . . to be all I can for her. I really try; it's why I exist."
"I know. And you are part of this family now." Charles let him go and stepped back, smiling. "A good husband and a good son-in-law." He checked his watch and nodded to himself. "Let's go get some of whatever those two are drinking and I'll start up the grill. Burgers tonight, you know. And yes, I remembered to get extra gristle in yours."
Beetlejuice shot him a quick, grateful smile.
"The butcher's been making faces at me, but he hasn't asked yet. I've got my answer all ready, though." Charles snickered. "I'll tell him I always make an extra burger or two for our dog, Odious." They both laughed at that. "You see, you are really part of the family now. But," he then added dolefully, "I'm afraid Delia's made her famous onion and turnip casserole tonight to go with the burgers."
Beetlejuice squinted at him, waving his hand surreptitiously toward the kitchen. A muted wail was heard just before the ghost grinned. "Seems like they might've cooked too long and got all burned. Guess you'll have to make do with those instant mashed potatoes again, Chuck."
Charles looked at him, wide-eyed, then pulled him into another embrace. "Best son-in-law ever," he breathed gratefully.