Last year the Hansons had invited way too many relatives to Thanksgiving dinner. The immediate family had snuck out to the shop to eat pie standing up and get away from the chaos. This year they promised: “just us.”
So Dale was confused when he ran into Brian Miller at Tim Hortons. After the usual talk about rotten fall weather, never-ending rain, the hassle of a late harvest and the problems Dale was having with his new combine, Brian said, “Hear you’ll need an extra chair at the table this Thanksgiving.”
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It took Dale a minute to realize what Brian meant. “Yup. Dad’s still got that girlfriend from Medicine Hat. She’s coming out for a while before they go back down to Yuma. Assuming we finish harvest before spring.” Dale felt awkward calling Helen his father’s “girlfriend” — the woman was 72 — but he couldn’t think of a better word, and Ed didn’t seem likely to propose soon.
“That’s not what I meant,” Brian said.
Dale swelled with pride. “It’s the grand-daughter’s first birthday this weekend. Hard to believe how fast they change.”
Brian chuckled, picked up his change and his Timbits and headed for the door. “You must have missed a meeting, Dale! You should call your daughter.”
Dale stepped up to the counter almost too confused to order his usual. He drove home through yet more drizzle, just enough moisture to keep the Hansons from picking up that last section of canola, and went straight to his wife.
“Is Trina coming home for Thanksgiving?” he asked.
“Yes, she called this morning,” Donna said. “How did you know?”
“It’s a nine-hour drive from Calgary.”
“She said she didn’t want to miss her niece’s first birthday. And she’s bringing someone.”
“Huh,” Dale said. “Must be someone pretty important, if she wants to spend 18 hours in the car with him.”
“She didn’t say,” Donna said. “Just that his name’s Ryan.”
“She’s working fast,” Dale said. “She’s only been in Alberta a couple of months. I just hope this one doesn’t get her all upset. Last Thanksgiving she spent all weekend in her bedroom, crying about that scientist who dumped her. What does this one do?”
“No idea,” Donna said. “She didn’t say anything about him.”
Dale leafed through the stack of mail he’d brought home and paused to look at a magazine cover. “Article about post-harvest burn-off. Humph. If we ever get to finish harvest we’ll think about that.”
“Wait,” Donna said. “How did you know Trina was coming home?”
“Brian Miller told me,” Dale said. “Wonder how he’d know.” Dale went back to his magazine, wishing he could get to the field. Donna found something to do in her office, also wishing Dale could get to the field.
Neither of them gave Brian Miller any more thought.
After a month of grey skies and machinery breakdowns, Thanksgiving weekend finally brought sunshine and warm temperatures.
“This is the kind of gorgeous fall weekend everyone imagines when they think of Thanksgiving,” said Ed’s “girl-friend” Helen when she arrived carrying three pumpkin pies.
“We’d feel more like giving thanks if we had the crop in,” Ed said, opening the lid of one of the pie containers.
“Get your finger out of there, Ed Hanson,” Helen said. “Shouldn’t you get to the field?”
Ed went back out to the combine. By the time Trina arrived, Helen, Donna and Donna’s daughter-in-law Elaine were putting the final touches on dinner while Elaine’s two kids played in the living room.
“You’re just in time, honey,” Donna said when Trina came in with her overnight bag. “But you’re alone. Did your friend change his mind?”
“No, he’s coming,” Trina said, disappearing into the bathroom. “He should be here any minute.”
This left everyone wondering why the boyfriend would drive all the way from Calgary in a separate car, but before anyone could ask, Trina’s brother Jeff stormed in.
“Elaine, can you print those pages from the parts manual off the Internet again? Damn header’s still not working. And look,” he said, gesturing toward the window. “That moron Ryan Jackson’s driving up in his beat-up truck. He sold me the wrong part three times this week. Does the dealership have him delivering wrong parts now? We’ve got enough problems, without that idiot standing around telling us we should farm organic like his dad. Oh, hey Trina,” he said. “Long time no see. Long drive, hey?”
After kicking her older brother in the shins, hard, Trina opened the door and greeted Ryan. She introduced him to Elaine and Helen, and explained that she’d started seeing Ryan in Saskatoon, where they’d both spent the summer. “We grew up less than 30 miles apart, but since we went to different schools, we didn’t know each other very well,” Trina said. “Now he’s back here, working at the machinery dealership and helping on his parents’ farm.”
“Hello Ryan,” Jeff said, shaking hands and then bending down to massage his shin. Elaine stood close by her husband, making sure Jeff didn’t say anything rude to Ryan’s face.
Donna snuck down to the basement to phone Dale with an update before he was caught by surprise and said something he’d regret.
“Oh geez,” Dale answered. “You’ve got to be kidding. He’ll have Trina nagging us to quit using fertilizer. Let weeds grow all over the place. Just when she’s finished university and got a job with a company she likes. Now she’ll have to trek all the way out here to see him every weekend? Geez.”
Then Grandpa Ed stomped into the house. “Did you get those parts figured out yet Jeff? No point trying to deal with those dopes behind the parts counter if we don’t know exactly what we need.”
The Hansons around the table opened their mouths and looked at each other, trying not to catch Ryan’s eye.
“Ed,” Donna said, “you remember Ryan Jackson? He’s working in the parts department now. He’s here for dinner with Trina.”
“Of course he is. Didn’t all of you know that?” Ed said. “It’s been going on for months. They’re the talk of coffee row. Jackson, put your coat back on and come out and give us a hand with the lemon of a header your boss sold us.”
It was after 10 when Dale finally came back to the house. “We saved some pie for you,” Donna said, opening up the last of Helen’s Tupperware containers. “How did things go out there?”
“We got the header fixed,” Dale said. “But we’ve got a few more days out there at this rate. And there’s a 30 per cent chance of rain in the forecast for tomorrow. Is Ryan still here?”
Donna shook her head, bracing herself for… she didn’t know what kind of outburst from Dale. “He and Trina went to town.”
“For an organic farmer, the kid’s not totally useless,” Dale said, offering a rare compliment. “He knew his way around the header. He could probably show Brian Miller a thing or two about setting headers. If Brian wasn’t such a loudmouth.” Dale finished his pie and went off to have a shower, another Thanksgiving behind him.
Leeann Minogue is the editor of Grainews, a playwright and part of a family grain farm in southeastern Saskatchewan.
