Tuesday Tales: Writing Thanksgiving

Welcome to Tuesday Tales, a weekly blog featuring diverse authors posting excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. I’m so pleased you stopped by. This week’s word prompt is Thanksgiving. My snippet is from a new historical with an old Florida theme. Enjoy the other authors at Tuesday Tales.

Delicious aromas filled the house, making it smell like a thousand Sundays all put together. With Debbie’s stomach growling as it was, she didn’t know if she could last to dinnertime. Maybe she could sneak a bite from one of the steaming pots on the stove, or better yet, one of the pies cooling by the window.

“Deborah Ann Dobbs, put down that spoon this minute. I warned you to eat all your oatmeal this morning.”

Her lips flattened into an abashed grimace. “It got cold, Mama.”

Her mother shook her head with a smile, took the spoon, and lifted the lid off the big oval dressing pan. “Come here, child. I need someone to taste this, make sure it’s not sparing of salt. Then you can wash up, put on your shoes, and set out a few more jars of peaches from the cupboard. With the Reverend Gideon stopping by this Thanksgiving, we need to set an especially plentiful table.”

Debbie’s nose crinkled at the mention of the Reverend, a reaction that did not go unnoticed by her mother. “Keep a hospitable home, daughter, and you shall never go without.”

“Yes, Mama.”

Soon, but it seemed an eternity, they were all seated around the big outdoor table. The sun stood high in the sky, but the air had a crisp, clean feel to it. Papa and the boys had come in from the field, and after a good washing up had been declared fit for company. Since it was a holiday, their work was done as of the dinner hour and the afternoon could be spent playing games and singing, with Papa cutting up the rug on his old fiddle. Debbie especially looked forward to the music but right now was transfixed by the feast on the table. Papa was at one end, with Mama beside him, and the Reverend at the other. Once the Reverend said grace, they all dug in.

“Someone’s coming.” Papa’s voice held a slight note of concern. They didn’t see too many travelers up and down their road. Just then two men came over the hill, looking scraggly in tattered clothes and carrying small bags on a pole.

The Reverend’s lips pursed into a bitter knot. “It appears to be some of those sorry tramps we’ve heard so much about. They ride the rails, traipse around the countryside looking for handouts.”

Mama eyed Papa. “Bertram, we’ve food aplenty.”

Papa stood, cleared his throat, and called over the men with a shout and wave.

“Humph!” The Reverend Gideon’s beard bobbed and rested squarely on his collar.

Mama moved the boys over to make room on the bench. She set out more plates and spooned steaming goodness into them. “Please, Reverend, have some more potatoes and turkey and dressing.”

Her heartwarming smiled coaxed an answering one, a pale semblance but noticeable. “Reverend Gideon, did I mention how gratified we are you could join us this year for Thanksgiving?”

I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on the word prompt Thanksgiving. May your time with your family be abundant and special. Thanks for stopping by. Return to Tuesday Tales.

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance