One Thanksgiving in Lusty, Texas by Cara Covington (rosie project TXT) 📕

less instructed Pamela to change the recipe. How sweet is it that not only do the sons want to take care of the mother’s feelings, but the mother is just as attentive to the sons’? She looked from James to Adam. “Having said that, I will beg you, please, if I make something you don’t like, tell me. I won’t be offended. My goal with the meals I’ll be preparing for you is only to please you—the two of you. That’s something I very much enjoy doing.”

Adam reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “All right, baby, we promise.”

James repeated the gesture and the pledge.

She’d used her slow cooker to prepare a small roast pork. She’d added a homemade barbecue sauce once the roast was cooked. Using two forks, Pam rendered pulled pork from roast pork. The meat, plus some freshly made rolls—thank you, Bernice—and they would build their own sandwiches once the soup was done. She had various “add-ons” suitable for soup or sandwich on the table, including onions, cheese, olives, peppers, and lettuce.

She’d already learned that Adam and James didn’t care for big, full meals every night. Her goal really was to please them—and she knew how to do that because she’d asked them about their preferences.

If only they’d get the hint. The men still hadn’t worked their way around to figuring that one out. It could very well be that she’d have to tell them. But Pamela was willing to give them some more time. She felt a smile coming on and put her head down as if she was contemplating her soup. She really hoped Grandmother Chelsea gave the pair a little more time, too. That dear woman had threatened to give them each a swift kick in the ass. Pamela could still picture the moment that threat had emerged, including the word, “ass.”

Chelsea Benedict Jessop-Kendall looked like a dainty and delicate little old lady, but looks could be deceiving. The woman has more spine than most adult men I’ve met. Pamela hoped that when she was Chelsea’s age, she’d be just like her.

Pamela recalled Maria telling her that her sons had spoken of her constantly on their calls home—and the first one happened on the very evening of the day she’d met the two. She’d heard it said that some men moved slow. Adam and James had already told her they’d meant to initiate a relationship with her far sooner than they had. That was the main reason she was willing to give them more time to see what was right there in front of them.

“I hear you’re going to have coffee with mother and the aunts and grandmothers tomorrow,” Adam said. “Dad stopped into the office this afternoon and mentioned that he and Douglas had been given their instructions for the next day, and they involved not being at home.” He grinned at Pamela. “I think the dads want to stay put, just so they can hear whatever gossip it is the women are sharing.”

“Oh, we don’t gossip,” Pamela said.

“Oh?” James appeared surprised by that. “So, what exactly goes on then, when all y’all get together?”

Hmm. How to answer that without lying? It took her a moment to frame her response. “We usually just talk about whatever projects we may be involved in. We share recipes sometimes and talk about our gardens.” And then, because it was true, she couldn’t resist adding one more thing. “We also talk about our husbands.”

They both looked at her, eyes slightly widened. “In a kind, and loving way, of course,” she said.

James chuckled. “So…no gossip, you said?”

“Oh no. Absolutely not. Just the absolute, unvarnished truth.”

“I can only imagine.” Then he took her hand once more. “It worried me some, wondering if you’d find friends, here. Wondering if you and mother and the aunts and the grandmothers would get along all right.”

“I love them, sweetheart. Thank you both for sharing your family with me. Having them in my life has eased my sense of the loss of my mother. I still miss her, of course, but that sense of being all on my own, without a maternal influence, is gone. That hole in my heart isn’t as big as it was, because your mother and Grandmother Chelsea—along with the aunts and my new cousins—have filled it some.”

* * * *

Adam Jessop took a moment as he sipped his coffee in the small meeting room, staring at the pictures that hung on the wall, pictures of a by-gone era. It wasn’t only this building that was pictured. There was another, of a large home with a welcoming porch and a group of townsfolk and others. The quality of the picture told its age. This was taken during the First World War, when Lusty built and opened the Convalescent Home and staffed and ran it as its donation to the war effort. For those who didn’t go off and fight, this was their contribution. There was another photo of the same building, this one taken during the next war and featuring a young woman, dressed in the uniform of the United States Army standing against a post, her arms folded, her gaze trained off into the distance. Aunt Kate. Back in the day, he’d heard, she’d been a real firecracker. Hell, for all of that, she still was.

The doctor’s office in Lusty, Texas, really didn’t need three full-time physicians. The population of the town was nearing a thousand, but one thing was certain. Just as Lusty would grow, so it would shrink again. Their practice was registered with a couple of hospitals in Waco and also with Hamilton General Hospital, over in Hamilton—a city just beyond the boundary of Benedict County, in Hamilton County.

That latter agreement had been in effect since the rebuilt general hospital had opened its doors in 1957. Doctors from Lusty had, in the past, responded to emergencies in those facilities and had also been available to go out on calls in the wide rural