It Happened on Maple Street

Did that mean that he had no intention of asking me to marry him? Ever? We were only eighteen. I understood that. We were young. In our first year of college. Neither of us could support ourselves, much less each other. We were both living at home. Tim had just bought his first car.

But he hadn’t mentioned any of that. He hadn’t talked about marriage at all.

And I’d almost slept with him anyway. I needed him so desperately. Morals didn’t matter when

I was with him. Love did.

“Thanksgiving’s next week,” Tim said one day after geology lab.

I knew the date. I’d been wondering if we were going to get to see each other at all over the holiday. I had no idea what his plans were and didn’t want to impose. I was hoping that he’d at least stop by in the evening. Thanksgiving was a quiet day at my house. Just my brothers and parents, and football on TV all day. Other than when we were eating, the lights were out all day so that there was no glare on the television set.

“Will you come to Eaton and spend the day with me and my family? We all go over to my brother Mike’s for the day. It’s a lot of fun.”

He not only wanted to see me, he wanted me to be part of his family celebration? My heart soared.

“Yes,” I said, afraid I’d answered too quickly, sounded too eager. I hadn’t even thought about it. Or asked my mother. After all, I would be spending my first holiday away from my family. But Tim had just handed me my dreams on a platter. I barely cared about the rest of it.

That was as it should be. A girl grew up to be a woman and left her home for her man. Tim was my man.

Thanksgiving arrived, and I was a nervous wreck trying to figure out what to wear and ended up with my normal jeans and a sweater. Orange with green and brown on it—like fall. I’d never met Mike—or anyone in Tim’s family besides his mother and brother Jeff.

He picked me up at eleven.

“Who’s all going to be there?” I asked as we drove from Huber Heights to Eaton. Chum was home for Thanksgiving. He’d just arrived early that morning. I’d wanted Tim to meet him, but after driving all night Chum had still been asleep.

“Everyone but Ed and Gary.” Tim’s two oldest brothers. I’d already met Jeff, Tim’s one-year-older-than-him brother. The brother who still lived at home with him and their mother.

I was nervous about meeting Mike and Jane. About being in a houseful of people I didn’t know. Afraid that they wouldn’t approve of a city girl for their little country boy brother.

But more than being nervous, I was excited to be spending my first holiday with the man I loved. The first big holiday of my life as part of a couple. He was holding my hand, and I was grinning just because life felt so good.

And . . . his mother was going to be there. I hadn’t seen her since Halloween.

“Does your mom know I’m coming?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And she doesn’t mind?”

“No. She likes you.”

I wanted to believe him. But no matter what Tim said, his mother had to think I was a bad influence on her youngest son. I kept him out until 5:00 AM. And had been in his bedroom so late the night of the Halloween party that she’d had to kick me out.

I didn’t see her when we first arrived at Mike and Jane’s, either. She wasn’t there yet.

But the house was full. Mike and Jane and their kids. Jane’s parents. And siblings. Their spouses. Kids. In-laws and their kids. The kitchen was a flurry of activity. Noise and great smells and life. Nothing like the quiet Thanksgiving that I was used to, the one highlighted by naps in front of the football game—the one going on back at my house in Huber Heights.

Nothing about the day remotely resembled any Thanksgiving I’d ever had. Tim’s mom arrived with a lot of food that she’d cooked at home. Jane announced when it was time to eat—but there was no table set. No seats designated. Just a long row of dishes filled with vegetable casseroles and potatoes and gravy and turkey and dressing and more food than I’d ever seen in one home at one time. People grabbed plates, went through the line, and sat anyplace that was available. A couch. A chair. A seat at the dining room table.

At my house there was one conversation at a time and you had to be polite and listen and speak only when you weren’t covering up what someone else was saying. Tim’s family dinner was filled with bustling conversations. Many of them. All over the house. All the time. And anyone could jump into any of the conversations any time.

I was mesmerized. Holding on to Tim for all I was worth. And in love.

I looked around, noticing Mike’s wife in the middle of it all, and knew, then and there, that more than writing for Harlequin, more than anything else I’d ever wanted in my life, I wanted to be just like her—a Barney wife.

“Mom said to ask you in for dessert,” Tara said when Tim took her home on Thanksgiving night. He was tired but accepted her invitation immediately, glad that the day wasn’t ending yet. Maybe they’d have some time alone before he had to head back to Eaton.

Her dad was asleep on the couch in front of the television when they got there just a little past 9:00 PM.