Miss Me Not

"Yep, this is us. For the most part, we all get along and enjoy spending time together, with the exception of a few," he said.

"Pete?" I asked, smiling at him.

"Yeah. Every family's got one. Pete definitely pushes the limits of 'blood is thicker than water.' As my papaw would say, 'the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.' With Pete, that's dead-on, his mom is a piece of work too. No get-together is complete until she adds a dose of her drama to it. Needless to say, we were all glad when she ran off with her trainer, including my uncle Phil, who had been looking for an out for years. Pete's had a chip on his shoulder since she left, which is why we all cut him a little slack, even though I know my Papaw is itching to take a switch to him like he used to when we were younger."

I couldn't help laughing at the mental picture of the tiny old man at the head of our long table chasing Pete around to give him a beat down. "I think your Papaw would have a tough time with that."

"Oh, don't be fooled by his stature. Papaw is a tough old bird. I heard he brought a man a quarter of his age to the ground when he ran his grocery cart into the back of my Nana's legs, knocking her down. According to my uncle John, who had to pick Papaw up at the police station after the incident, Papaw knocked the guy down by pegging him in the head with a can of green beans. Knocked the guy out flat."

"What?" I gasped, looking down the table at the innocent-looking old man who was regaling everyone at his end of the table with some story. Everyone was listening to him with rapt attention. Watching his animated face while he talked, I couldn't believe he'd hurt a fly, let alone peg someone with a canned good.

"Yep, I guess after the guy knocked Nana down to her knees, he kept walking like it was no big deal, even though my Papaw yelled after him. The guy flipped him the bird and kept walking, so Papaw grabbed a can of beans out of their cart and chucked it right at the back of the guy's head. They say he dropped like a sniper had taken him out," Dean said, chuckling.

"Did the guy press charges?" I asked worriedly.

"Nah, he was too embarrassed that a man three times his age took him out. Plus, there were tons of witnesses who saw him knock my nana down. Uncle John said if Papaw wouldn't have taken him out, several bag boys and the assistant manager were more than willing to step in and do it. My grandparents are quite popular in this area. I guess that's what happens when your family practically started the town. Papaw says even if he would have wound up in jail, it would have still been worth it. He says no one messes with his family, especially his lady," Dean said, looking toward his grandparents affectionately.

"That's freaking hilarious. Your papaw is old-school," I said smiling. "It's got to be an amazing feeling to have someone stand up for you without a thought about the consequences."

"That's family, Mads. Everyone here would have done the same. They'd do the same for you."

"They don't even know me," I said, feeling uncomfortable at being included in his analogy.

"Yeah, but they know you're important to me," he said as he took a bite of his sweet potato casserole.

Questions bubbled up inside of me. How did they know I was so "important" to him, as he put it? Why did I intrigue him so much? Let's face it. Any girl at our school would die to be sitting where I was at the moment.

"You sure take your friend status seriously," I finally said, making light of his comment.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Mads," he replied, eating another forkful of food.

I ignored his dig and concentrated on eating my own meal as Dean started up a conversation with Travis on his other side. I scanned the table while I ate, soaking in the multiple conversations around me. My eyes met Trish's, who was sitting directly across from me. She was studying me intently and I couldn't help wondering if she'd heard our exchange. It seemed impossible with the noise level surrounding us, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being scrutinized. Dropping my eyes back to my plate, I focused on eating.

The rest of the meal passed uneventfully and when everyone was done they all pitched in to clean. One of the rows of tables was folded up and stored away in the barn behind the house. All the mismatched chairs were dragged into groups where the adults could sit and chat while the kids played on the lawn. Someone wheeled a large TV out to the porch while others carried chairs up to the porch and set them up in rows.

"Football," Dean said as an explanation when he saw me looking confused.

"Like on TV?" I asked.

"Of course, the Detroit Lions and the Dallas Cowboys always play on Thanksgiving Day. It's a tradition for all of us to watch the game together. Papaw's living room isn't big enough for all of us, so all my uncles pitched in a couple years ago and purchased the TV and stand. They made sure the stand had wheels so we could wheel it out."

"Yeah, but we live in Florida. I don't know a lot about football, but aren't you supposed to support your home team?"

"I've been a Cowboys fan since birth," Dean boasted. "Besides, the Florida teams suck," he said loudly.

"How about I give you a whipped cream face mask for that blasphemous statement," one of his uncles growled, making a move toward Dean.

"You and what army, old man," Dean mocked, dancing out of reach. Not looking where he was going, he put himself within reaching distance of one of his other uncles who grabbed Dean's arms from behind, holding him captive.

"Give him the pie," Travis hooted, helping his uncle hold Dean in place. All the rest of the relatives joined in Travis's hooting and chanting.

"What's going on?" I asked Trish as she came over to stand next to me, laughing.

"First person to criticize Uncle John's favorite team gets a whipped cream pie in the face. Dean must have said something," she said laughing as we watched Dean break away and make a run for it. He was detoured when Travis took a dive and grabbed him around the ankles.

Travis and John manhandled Dean back to his feet as he kicked and thrashed trying to get loose again. Entranced by the spectacle in front of me, I watched with fascination as his sweet, innocent-looking nana came out of the house carrying a pie pan towered high with whipped cream. The pie looked like something you would find on a cooking contest. The edges of the whipped cream were browned to a golden brown while a cherry sat perfectly on the top. It looked way too pretty to be going in someone's face. I couldn't help wondering why his nana was in charge of the pie until I looked at Dean and saw that all fight had gone out of him as his nana approached. >"Boys suck," Trish whispered when he turned away.

"Truth," I said, grateful for her support.