There was music playing in the kitchen. Kit was watching the cook from the den, lounging on the floor with the kids. She was swaying, singing, and straining pasta at the sink. He smiled. The last few weeks had been blissful. Like she wasn't even sick. After Halloween, she'd flipped a script on them - especially him.

Patently unfair. For a woman who was dying she sure was...vibrant. Almost like she was going backwards in time. Her hair shone gold and curled down her back and over her shoulders. Her eyes sparkled. She smiled with teeth. She was beautiful.

"How do you spell lesson?" Thomas asked.

"Like teach a lesson, or lessen a load?" Julia asked.

"Like a teacher."

"L-e-s-s-o-n."

"Thanks."

Kit smiled between the children. The holidays had them predictably excited (him, too, honestly), so he'd invented projects to keep them busy and distracted. They'd drawn pilgrims, painted rocks, and made a sizable papier maché turkey. This had been his final brainchild: to create lists of all the things they were grateful for. They would share their lists over Thanksgiving dinner, which smelled amazing so far. "Kit?" He hopped up at Jude's bidding, popped into the kitchen behind her. "Yes?"

"Will you grate this cheese far me?"

"I'll do anything for you, Jude."

She laughed, pressing the grater into his hands "I'm checking the turkey." The turkey was a golden god of a bird - a gift from Kit's boss. She'd cooked it since that morning, tending it like a newborn baby. Now it was done, resting on the stove while the dressing went in.

"Hey, kids! Come look at this bird Jude cooked!"

Ooooohs and aaaaaahs from the children. "Can we taste it?" Thomas was reaching for the crispy bird.

Jude smacked his small hand away. "Not yet! Dressing and macaroni have ta cook. Go finish yar dad's homework. Is my cheese ready, Kit?"

"Yes." He handed her a plate piled with cheddar. "What else?"

"Grab me the milk, please."

He opened the refrigerator and froze in the shaft of light. "Judy, Judy, Judy... What are these pies in this fridge?" His voice dropped to prevent the kids hearing.

Jude peaked over his shoulder, reaching past him to grab the milk. "Apple and pumpkin," she whispered.

Kit caught her by the elbow. "Hey." He whispered, too. "Marry me."

"I'll make you pies without a contractual obligation."

"There are advantages to marriage outside of baked goods."

Her whisper grew closer to his ear. "You don't need a contract for those advantages either."

He turned until their lips were very close together. "I'll remind you of that when I'm attempting to express my appreciation for this delicious meal latah."

"Ewww, kissing!" Julia giggled, appearing behind Kit's legs.

"Were not!" Jude spun away, red faced.

"My list is done, daddy."

Kit took the paper, clearing his throat. "Let's see here. Oh, I like the illustrations."

"Bonus!" Julia chimed.

He read, not tearing up in the slightest. "That's perfect, sweetheart. I love it. How's yours coming over there, Thomas?"

"Good!"

"Dinnah's almost ready." Jude bent to kiss Julia's curly head. "Why don't you and your brothah wash up? Kit, toss the mac and cheese in the oven, will ya?" She was removing her apron. "I'm gonna freshen up, too. I smell like a deli."

Kit set the table, humming along with the stereo. The table was a bit small for this occasion, not designed for the amount of cooking Jude was capable of. Once the kids' papier maché turkey went on, there was barely room for their plates and glasses. But that turkey... He stepped away from the table to admire the scene and doubled over in quiet laughter.

The turkey had been a collective project. Kit had designed the wire frame. Jude had created the paste for the structure and the children had done the rest, cleaning out the craft bin of paints, feathers and pipe cleaners. The resulting creature was...a unique pink and brown amalgamation that was smooth, wrinkly, feathery, and fuzzy in all the wrong places.

Jude - emerging from her room - was not so quiet in her humor. "Angels and ministers of grace," she gasped, guffawing. Kit joined her, a steadying hand on her back.

"Shhh, shhh, shh." He tried to control their amusement. "Don't laugh at it in front of the kids. They worked so hard."

"It..." Jude pointed, calming. "It looks like a giant hairy nutsack." They lost their shit again. "It's a very unfortunate pecker."

"A crotch gobbler," he offered. "I thought they were makin' a turkey, not a cock."

Jude swatted him. "Fuck! Stop. That's enough." She dabbed at her eyes, took a deep breath.

"They're coming."

"Woooow!" Thomas approached the table as if approaching an idol. "It's beautiful!"

Julia was a bit more...reserved. "I don't know," she muttered. "It looks a little funny."

"It's a masterpiece." Jude hugged them both to her. "I think it's the best lookin' fake turkey I've evah seen."

"It could maybe even fool a real turkey or two." Kit nodded, biting the hell out of his bottom lip. "I'm telling ya - Jude's nuts over it."

Her lips quirked painfully. "That's right. Now. Let's eat, huh?"

Jude pulled the mac and cheese from the oven while Kit arranged the dinner into a buffet along the counters. "You gonna carve the turkey?" She asked, offering a butcher knife.

"Which one?"

The children had started a chant at the table, pinging their silverware in time. "Turkey! Turkey! Turkey! Turkey!"

Steam rose from the bird as he cut it. "Oh, Jude. This is a perfect bird."

"Thanks." She shrugged as if it was nothing, collecting the eager childrens' plates and dishing out dinner. "Let me toss those pies in the oven now."

The adults sacrificed the turkey legs to the kiddies and soon they were all seated around the giant magical Thanksgiving cock and balls with full plates and big smiles.

"Jude. Everything is delicious." Kit said, smacking his lips. "What do you guys think?"

Thomas was licking his fingers. His face was greasy with turkey. "It's the best dinner we've ever had."

"The pilgrims would be super jealous!" Julia offered gleefully.

"Hell yeah, they would. They'd be crying into their big belt buckles." Kit gestured. "Anybody want more dressing?"

"I don't understand how you're all still eating. " Jude lounged in her chair, pushed away from the table. "I am more stuffed than the turkey was."

"Which one?" Kit and Thomas asked. The table erupted into laughter.

"Hey." Kit sobered. "Jude's got a surprise in the oven, I think."

"Oh, shit!" She leapt from her chair. "I almost fargot the damn pies."

"PIES!" The children chorused. "Pie! Pie! Pie! Pie!"

"Look what you did." Jude swatted Kit with a teatowel, grinning. There wasn't room for the pies. She put them on the window sill above the kitchen sink. "I'm gonna make a little coffee."

"Sounds great." Kit pulled the percolator from above the stove. "Hey. Why don't you guys get your lists ready while these pies cool?"

"I wanna go first!" Julia announced.

"Awww." Thomas frowned.

"Mine has pictures." She explained.

"I drew a frog on mine!" Her brother defended hotly.

"What for? What does a frog have to do with Thanksgiving?"

"I'm thankful for them!"

"Why? They're gross!"

"Tell us why yar thankful far frogs, Thomas." Jude stroked his head, sitting. "I'm evah so curious."

"Because they eat bugs so we don't have too many bugs."

"Brilliant." Kit clapped his hands together. "You know what? That makes me grateful for frogs, too. Julia? What you got?"

She cleared her throat. "I'm grateful for the colonists who first came here to have Thanksgiving with the Indians because we wouldn't be here if it wasn't for them and we wouldn't have corn. See? I drew some Indians and some corn."

"I feel like I'm bein' gaslighted," Jude said. "But I don't mind. Those are wonderful pictures. Who's that pilgrim at the bottom, Julia? In the blue?"

"That's you, Jude!" Julia laughed. "You're on my list and Thomas' list. Because we're both so thankful that you came to live with us."

Jude paused. Kit watched her wrestle with vulnerability. "Well. I'm thankful, too. Even though I didn't make a list. I'm thankful that I got to come here and live with you two. And with yar daddy. I'm thankful that -" She stopped. Vulnerability won for a moment and she fought tears. "I'm thankful that I get ta have a wonderful family." Kit patted her hand on the table, offering his strength.

"We're thankful for your pies, too!" Thomas pointed out, subtly reminding the adults that there was pie waiting.

"I can tell." Jude smiled. "I like those pumpkins I'm carryin' around in that picture."

"Those aren't pumpkins, Jude!" Julia laughed. "Those are your breasts!"

"Boobs!" Thomas shouted gleefully. Kit had to leave the table. He was quietly laughing his ass off over the percolator.

"Oh!" Jude took a closer look at the drawing. "I had no idea they were so...round."

"Does a shithouse have boobs?" Thomas asked.

"What?" Jude was confused.

"Dad's boss says you're built like a brick shithouse so -"

"Thomas!" Kit snapped to attention at the sink. "It's time for pie, son!"

"I bet it is," Jude growled, rising. "I was gonna send some pie to Mr. Putnam, but now..."

Kit handed her a cup of coffee. "He doesn't mean any harm, Jude."

She was slicing pie, bright red. "I won't be bringing any treats to the garage anymore."

"The fellas will be real disappointed." Kit shook his head. "They sure do like lookin' at ya."

"You want pie or not?" She was brandishing a knife.

"I definitely want pie."

"Then sit down."

Jude served everyone pie except for herself. She was content to sip her coffee, listening to the children complete their lists of gratefulness, including such hits as underwear, bandaids, mousetraps, toothpaste, and water treatment.

"And soap." Thomas said, licking his pie fork. "Because it keeps me clean."

"You know what I'm grateful far?" Jude interrupted softly. "I'm grateful for your fathah." She looked at Kit from across the nutsack turkey. "Because he...he helped me out when I was very sick. When no one else would have. He took a chance on me when I'd been not very nice ta him befar. And because of him, I'm a bettah person today."

It was Kit's turn to fight vulnerability. "Well. I'm grateful for our Jude, too. Because...she didn't have ta be so good to us. She didn't have ta stay all this time and take care of us. When she got ta feelin' better, she coulda hit the road and nevah looked back. But she didn't. She stayed here with us."

"And taught us how to dance!" Thomas offered.

"And new cuss words." Julia chimed in.

"Especially the cuss words," Kit intoned solemnly. "I - we love ya, Jude." She didn't fight tears this time. Took the children's little hands in her own, then reached for Kit's. He continued, stroking her knuckles. "And we love your great big pumpkin sized boobies." Jude went red again, and the table exploded into laughter.

"Those kids are passed out." Kit walked onto the porch, holding two steamy mugs. He offered one to Jude. "A little toddy?"

"Ya shouldn't have." She took it, grinning. He sat beside her on the porch swing. "I'm thankful for this hot libation." She shivered a bit in her shawl.

"Me, too." Kit chuckled. "And that you're so incredibly patient and tolerant when it comes ta my kids. Yar a special lady, Judy."

"In the streets." She deadpanned, winking.

"Oh!" Kit slapped his knee. "And in the sheets?"

"Asleep."

They laughed, nearly spilling their hot ciders. Kit sobered. He always did. She braced for the emoting. "Dinnah was incredible."

"Thanks, Kit."

"No. Thank you, Jude. Again. For so much." She put her head on his shoulder. "It's been really nice these past weeks. I think. You seem like you've felt pretty good."

"I've felt wonderful." She admitted softly. "I'm so glad. I wanted to do this, ya know. Cook far Thanksgiving. And Christmas. See the kids open their Santa gifts. Have Christmas Eve and morning. Decorate the tree and all."

"I want it to be perfect far ya." He hugged her. "Far us. I hope you stay like this for the rest of the holidays. Forever."

"Kit." She nuzzled him, enjoying this warmth and affection. "I know there's things we don't wanna talk about. About me and my dyin' and all. But I do have ta tell those babies at some point. I want them ta understand. And I don't evah want them ta be afraid of death."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know." He nodded, throat hurting with things he would never say to her. "Maybe - maybe aftah holidays? Aftah everything settles down. We can have a talk one afternoon. All of us."

"That sounds good." She sat up, the hard part over with. "I'd like that."

"Cool." They sipped their ciders. A few leaves fell, clinging to the trees for as long as possible. Fall was refusing to accept winter, it seemed, and Kit related to that. Suddenly, Jude was shaking beside him. He turned to her, concerned she was crying. "You okay? What's wrong?"

But she was laughing. Hard. Painful heaves hidden behind her hand. "Jesus Christ. That fucking turkey."

"Which one?" And just that quickly, Kit was doubled over, too. "Our holiday ballsack tradition, you mean? From the artist Jackson Bollocks?"

"Vincent Van Gonad?" Jude offered. They crowed and cackled.

"I don't know what was bettah." Kit wiped his eyes. "That magnificent sculpted homage to testicles, or the fine rendering of your enormous breasts."

"I'd say they're on par." She looked down at her own chest. "It's an amazing likeness." She caught Kit looking, too, and playfully smacked his cheek. "Quit staring at tha produce!"

"Sorry! Sorry." He settled again. Calmed. "Jude."

"What?"

"I'm gonna miss you so much."

"Kit..."

"And yar beautiful giant tits."

"You heathen!" She snorted. "You'll think about me every time you see pumpkins."

"Yeah. I will." His arm went around her again. "I'll think about you all the time, Jude."

"Happy Thanksgiving, Kit."

"Very happy." He kissed the top of her head. The last leaves continued to fall...