A Groom for Christmas

Food Therapy

Freshly pressed cider, made from the apples we gathered in the early hours of the morning, was simmering in a crock pot, the spicy scent of cinnamon, nutmeg, and clove filling the house. The kids shared wide smiles, their teeth dotted with the corn kernels, as they debated who picked the most apples. The adults passed around plates of biscuits, bowls of mashed potatoes, and saucers of gravy, always asking for more even though they were already so full of joy.

I, however, wasn't one of them. Unlike everyone else, I struggled with each bite of green beans and turkey.

"So Charlie," said my mom with a hesitant drawl to her words, "is Noah having dinner at his parents this year?"

She knew he wasn't. They all knew where he was. It was just another attempt at opening up that line of conversation so she could offer up words of consolation and kindness. I appreciated that she was taking time out of her merriment to remedy my sour mood, but nothing she could say would undo the knot tied around my stomach.

"Shouldn't he be having dinner with us?" asked my youngest nephew, Arnold. "Didn't you have dinner with his family last year?"

Okay, so maybe not everyone crammed in around the Duncan family table that Thanksgiving knew where Noah was, and despite my less than festive mood, I wasn't about to take my frustrations out on Arnold by brushing his concerns aside.

"I did go up to New York to see Noah's family last year for Thanksgiving and, though we would have all liked to have him down here, Noah had to stay in New York to get some things ready for the big show. They'll be here filming in a few days and he's got a lot of last minute things to work out with his bosses."

I wish I could have told him that Noah was up there working with his team as an equal partner in the production, however the company didn't take too kindly to his actions during the finale of the very popular reality dating show, Finding Mrs. Claus. They said he'd gone rogue, that he wasn't a "team player," and that he couldn't be trusted. They seemed to ignore the fact that people were still talking about the show two years later, and that they were doing so because Noah let me hijack the show. Everyone loved Ellie and social media exploded upon her surprise return. No one saw it coming and the people rejoiced over the twist.

Of course, his fellow producers happily took credit for the move while stabbing Noah in the back, refusing to partner with him on any future projects unless he took a more subordinate role. The only reason Noah was allowed to direct the next installment of the show, Wedding Mrs. Claus, was because Ellie and Rowan refused to allow them to broadcast their marriage unless Noah was in charge of filming on location. The compromise was that Noah took a smaller credit, but he was happy to be given a chance to run the show again.

And I was happy that meant I'd get to see him for more than three days for once.

"Yeah, well, the turkey sucks reheated," added my now thirteen year old nephew, Frank Jr, with a snarky quirk to his lip. "He should have just gotten his work done early and come down anyway."

"Don't say sucks," said my sister-in-law with a hiss.

"That's not a curse word," said my eldest nephew with a roll of his eyes.

"Wendy, leave it, he's a teenager now," said my brother, Frank, who still leered at his son despite his suggestion to his wife. "What we should be upset about is his blasphemy against mom's turkey. It makes for the best damn sandwiches in all of Anne's Ferry."

"Frank!" Wendy's jaw nearly unhinged in her shock. Sometimes I wondered if she even knew her husband.

"Sorry, darn sandwiches," he replied before biting into his turkey leg.