Show Thanks (A Thanksgiving Short Story)

MapleInk62

This year was the Kendalls’ first Thanksgiving in Odyssey. Welcomed to feast at Whit’s End, along with Mr. Whittaker, Tom & Agnes Riley, and their nephew, Rodney. And after the evening’s festivities are over, and everyone else has gone home, June decides to show Whit her thanks for her and Connie’s warm, Thanksgiving dinner welcome.

(Follows the events of “Thank You, God”)

  It was becoming late in the evening, and Whit’s End had taken up a calm and quiet atmosphere. All the inventions and attractions throughout the building were powered down, all the lights turned off. 

  The only remaining people left in the building were finishing up in the kitchen—cleaning up from the wonderful Thanksgiving meal that Tom and Whit had prepared everyone earlier that day. And to Connie’s delight, she was given the okay to begin walking home. While many hands did make light work, the opposite could be said for too many hands.

  June had her sweater’s sleeves rolled up to her elbows, as her arms were submerged beneath soapy dish water. She scrubbed off another ceramic dinner place, rinsed it in the half of the sink with the clean water, then passed it off to Whit. Who stood to her right with a dishrag in hand, and able to put each dish away properly. (Seeing how June had no clue where any of the dishes for Whit’s End were meant to go).

  “You know, June,” Whit began, reaching into a cupboard to place the plate with the others. “You really didn’t need to stay behind and help me.” June smirked, shaking her head a little. “I was probably just going to tidy the counters, and keep the dishes in the sink to be taken care of in the morning.”

  “Ah, you’re right. But, now you have one less task to do in the morning when you open!” June noted. Whit chuckled. “You’ve got me there, June. Thank you.” The woman shrugged. “Oh now, Whit. I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

  “Haven’t you done that already?”

  “I have,” June hummed—moving on to take special care of cleaning off the utensils that had gathered at the very bottom of the soapy water. “But, really. This was a lovely thanksgiving. I hardly realized how I missed celebrating this holiday in the last few years.” Whit remained silent, letting June speak, as she handed off the rinsed butter knives to him. 

  A minute of silence passed. June’s pensive expression was clear on her face. “Well, I always have folks over for thanksgiving. No sense preparing a whole turkey dinner for one, otherwise.” Whit told her, a smirk about him as he said the last bit. 

  Pausing from cleaning the cooking utensils, Jun gave Whit a curious look. “What about your own family, Whit? I would’ve thought they’d visit you during the holidays.” She wondered. “Well, during Christmas, my daughter and grandchildren come out to Odyssey for a visit some years. And my older son’s always been too busy with his work to make many visits.” 

  June hummed. “I understand,” She said, continuing on with the dishes. “So, you really just make Thanksgiving more about your friends, here, in Odyssey?” Whit nodded. “That’s it, exactly.” June smiled. She handed two, wet wooden spoons to the man.

  “My step-mother would do the same, some years, for Thanksgiving.” Whit continued. “She always found ways to be hospitable to the members of the community. Growing up, I got to see how God used her to be that light for others.” June smiled and subtly nodded to the sentiment. “Fiona sounded like quite the woman.”

  “And I’ve never taken for granted how blessed I was to have her in my life.” Whit said, something fond sounding in his tone as he recounted the memories of his late step-mother.

  June’s smile remained, as she carried on with the remaining cutlery int he sink. “Well, anyway. So, should Connie and I expect another invitation to Thanksgiving dinner next year?” Whit chuckled, and having his hands full with spoons to dry, opted to give June a wink as a positive gesture. “Certainly. Only if you don’t give the invitation first!” 

  “Are you trying to insinuate something, Mr. Whittaker?” Avoiding June’s gaze, Whit merely shook his head and shrugged—opening a drawer to place the spoons inside. “No, no, nothing at all, June.” June couldn’t help but laugh, turning her attention back to the sink of dirtied soap water, pulling the plug in the bottom.

  Whit gave her the towel he’d been using to dry the dishes. June gladly took it, and went about drying off her hands and forearms. “Maybe your insinuation will be on the dot.” She then commented, a teasing lilt to her tone. “Now, are you insinuating something, June?” June gave Whit a side glance, shrugging. “No idea what you mean, Whit.” He laughed.

  With the kitchen now cleared, and the dishes all cleaned and put away, Whit went to turn off the kitchen light. He and June made their way out into the darkened parlor, June walking on to the front door while Whit got out his keys to the building from his pocket.

  Stepping out onto the front step of Whit’s End, a brisk, autumn breeze reminded June of her rolled up sleeves. She promptly rolled them back down, and crossed her arms in front of herself to keep a bit warmer.

  “Will you also be walking home, June?” The woman looked over her shoulder, just as Whit turned away from the now-locked-door. She shook her head ‘no’. “I drove here with Connie. It’s gotten a bit too chilly for my liking to be walking home.”

  “That it has,” Whit agreed, nodding. “I think there may even be snow coming any moment now.”  

  June made no move to continue walking, Whit noticing how she was merely glancing about. Though many of the autumn leaves had fallen from their branches as the days came closer to winter, there were still a few, stubborn, red and orange leaves remaining on the trees which lined the street. 

  “Still a lovely evening, for this late in the season.” He commented. June nodded. “I don’t think there’s much better than a nice, late autumn evening. I really don’t.” She said to him. “Autumn really is one of the most beautiful seasons God blessed us with.”

  “Sure,” June hummed, merely agreeing with the sentiment of enjoying the fall season. She then got her keys out, and began down the front steps of Whit’s End. Whit watched as she went. Making it to the final step, June looked back over her shoulder towards the man. “Goodnight, Whit.”

  “Goodnight, June,” Whit replied, watching as she walked over to her car’s driver’s side door. “Drive safe.” He wished her. June waved to him in thanks, before taking a seat behind the wheel. The engine roared to life, headlights flashing on. The car pulled away from the curb, taking off down the quiet streets of Odyssey—stray leaves along the ground stirring in its trail. Whit hummed, shaking his head a little.