Helen was excited about her trip to Calgary to spend Thanksgiving with her children and their families.
“Four days. Long time,” her partner Ed said.
“Are you sure you won’t come with me?” she asked.
“Harvest.” Ed was still having difficulty talking after his stroke. When he could, he used one-word answers.
“I know,” Helen sighed. It was a short flight from Regina to Calgary, but she wasn’t totally comfortable flying on her own. Still, Helen understood why Ed wouldn’t go. He couldn’t run the combine or a grain truck this year, but he could still be part of the action. Since the Hansons had started combining, Ed had been out the door of his Weyburn condo every morning before seven, off to the farm to spend his days running errands and offering advice. Farming was new to Helen — her husband had run a carpet store in Medicine Hat — but it wasn’t hard for her to see Ed’s passion for the business he’d run all his life.
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While her solo flight to Calgary was smooth and uneventful, a lot of the moments that passed during the weekend were awkward. Helen’s grown sons still weren’t 100 per cent happy about their father being replaced by an unhealthy farmer.
“Are you sure they’re not using you?” her son Brent asked. “It’s a lot of work, looking after a sick man. And they left you to travel out here all by yourself. Sounds to me like they’re taking advantage.”
Brent’s brother Craig had his own concerns. “Melanie really took it out of me in the divorce. I could use some help with Neil’s tuition fees.”
Helen had been silent. Her husband hadn’t left a fortune, and she had no idea how many years she had ahead of her.
“I know you give Neil money every year. Maybe you could advance us a few payments,” Craig said. “Or maybe Ed could help out. You’re doing so much for him and his family.”
Maybe Craig had a point, Helen thought. Looking after Ed since his stroke was no easy feat. And spending so much time in Saskatchewan, she was missing time with her sixteen-year-old granddaughters.
They were easy to please. “We can’t wait for turkey!” they chimed. Brent’s wife offered her help. “You do the meal. I’ll bring dessert,” she said.
Helen’s husband had loved turkey. Given a choice, Helen would have preferred ham, but the least she could do was give her grandchildren a traditional Thanksgiving meal. Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, turnips, carrots and a jelly salad.
There was work to do before she could even start cooking at Craig’s house.
“I’ve let things go a little since Melanie left,” Craig said, seeing his house through his mother’s eyes.
Between vacuuming, tidying cupboards, and helping Craig catch up with the laundry, Helen’s weekend passed quickly.
On Sunday, Helen cooked, humming while she listened to the comforting sounds of her family watching TV in Craig’s living room.
The turkey was perfectly browned and juicy. The twins even ate the turnips.
After Helen and the twins cleared the table, Brent’s wife brought out a platter of Nanaimo bars from the bakery. It wasn’t traditional, but Helen didn’t mind.
After she finished washing the dishes, Helen settled down to enjoy a coffee with her sons and their wives. It wasn’t long before the boys circled around to the topic at the top of their minds.
“Maybe you should move out here, Mom,” Brent said.
“You shouldn’t have to be a full-time nursemaid,” Craig added. “And if you’re going to help a family, why not your own family? If you lived here, you could stay with the twins when Brent and Mae go out of town. You could help me with this place.”
Helen had a sleepless night, wondering if her boys were right.
Donna was waiting at the airport on Monday afternoon when Helen came down the escalator in the arrivals hall.
“Did you have a nice time?” Donna asked, as she rolled Helen’s suitcase out to the parking lot.
“Of course,” Helen said.
“Well Ed’s certainly missed you,” Donna said. “We all have. Dealing with Ed really is a full-time job.”
Helen was quiet. Donna changed the subject.
“Alma Myers called, looking for you,” Donna said. “She was worried when you missed the Quilters meeting on Friday. I told her you were visiting family.”
“Thanks,” Helen said.
For the rest of the drive, they listened to music and made small talk. But when they reached Weyburn, rather than turn off the highway toward Ed’s condo, Donna kept going. “I hope you don’t mind coming out to the farm before you unpack.”
“Well…,” Helen began.
“Ed’s out there. We were hoping you could drive him home.”
“Doesn’t he have his truck?” Helen asked. Donna was quiet. Helen worried. Was Ed doing worse? Couldn’t he drive? Now what was she in for?
“Okay,” Helen finally said. Maybe the Hansons did see her as Ed’s nurse.
It was nearly dinnertime. Helen was getting hungry, and it would be late by the time she brought Ed home from the farm and put together a meal. She tried not to show her disappointment.
When they got to the farm, Donna pulled up in front of her house.
“I see Ed’s truck at the shop,” Helen said. “I’ll track him down and get him home.”
“He’ll be in the house,” Donna said, leaving Helen wondering how she could be so confident.
When they reached the porch, Donna’s husband Dale threw open the door from the inside.
“Helen!” he said, stepping outside in his sock feet to give her a quick hug. “We’re glad to have you home.”
Inside, the air was thick with the smell of roasting ham.
Donna and Dale’s daughter-in-law emerged from the kitchen wearing oven mitts and carrying a casserole dish. “Hi Helen! We missed you,” Elaine said. “Just let me get these scalloped potatoes to the table.”
Helen slipped off her shoes and stepped in. Elaine’s two children were playing with Legos in the corner. The table was laid out with a tablecloth and wineglasses. Ed was seated at one end, holding a glass with a straw, while Elaine’s husband Jeff worked around him to lay out the good china and silverware.
When they saw Helen, little Jenny and Connor dropped their toys and ran to give her a hug. “Grandma Helen! Surprise!” Jenny shouted.
“We’re having two Thanksgivings!” Connor explained.
“We know you had Thanksgiving in Calgary,” Dale said, handing Helen a glass of wine. “We had turkey here on Sunday, but something was missing. We figured out it was you.”
“Grandpa told us you’d rather have ham than turkey,” Jeff said.
“And Ed went through your binder to find your raisin pie recipe,” Elaine said. “I hope mine turned out as well as yours always does.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Helen said.
“Don’t say anything,” Donna said. “Just take a seat at the table.”
Helen took the chair next to Ed. His face stretched into his slow lopsided smile. He reached out his good right hand to squeeze hers.
“You’re home,” he said.
