A Promise Kept by Robin Lee Hatcher

teen years, but there hadn’t been any ugly scenes of rebellion. Not like some families went through. By the time she graduated from college, a year sooner than most students her age, she’d blossomed into a beautiful, intelligent, strong-minded woman who loved God and had her feet firmly planted in reality. She’d also become her mother’s dearest friend. Which had made her move to Texas especially hard on Allison.
    But today they were together, and laughter filled the kitchen as they worked, Meredith peeling potatoes while Allison prepared the green bean casserole. Meredith must have inherited some of Aunt Emma’s gift of gab. She shared funny stories from her job and the people she worked with and about her adjustmentto Texas, especially the climate. She even shared about some disastrous dates she’d been on.
    “I think I’m going to kiss dating good-bye, like the guy who wrote that book.”
    “You’ll find someone,” Allison said. “The right someone. I just wish he could be from Idaho, and you’d both move back.”
    “Not likely to happen while I’m living and working in San Antonio. Not many Idahoans living there that I’ve found.”
    “I know, but I can wish it, can’t I?”
    Meredith rinsed the last potato in the sink. “Wish away, Mom. I wouldn’t mind coming home to Idaho for good, but I can’t see the company transferring me back anytime soon.”
    Allison made a mental note to double her prayers for just that thing to happen.
    The first of their guests arrived shortly after one o’clock—Pastor and Mrs. Simpson and their son with the Lyles close on their heels. It was more than half an hour later before Chet Leonard arrived with his two sons, sans Marsha.
    “She wasn’t feeling up to being with other people today,” he said, explaining his wife’s absence.
    “I’m sorry to hear it.” Allison took his hat and coat. “I’ll send a plate home with you so she doesn’t miss out on the Thanksgiving meal.”
    “That’s really kind.”
    She didn’t offer him any advice. She didn’t know him all that well. But perhaps she could find some way to encourage Marsha, woman to woman. She and Susan could put their heads together and come up with some ideas. With a nod, she turned and carried the collected coats and Chet’s hat into her bedroom.
    Allison and her company sat at the table at two o’clock. The pastor blessed the food, and then everyone passed the serving dishes until their own plates were piled high. Roast turkey andstuffing. Mashed potatoes and gravy and hot, buttered rolls. Green beans and sweet potatoes and peas with pearl onions. Olives and pickles, celery and carrots.
    It was over coffee and dessert—apple pie with ice cream or pumpkin pie with whipped cream or some of both—when conversations melded together and turned not to the holiday of Thanksgiving but to thanking the Giver of all. Allison wasn’t sure who started it, but soon they were going around the table, one by one, naming people and things they were thankful for.
    First came the expected: Thankful for my husband. Thankful for my wife. Thankful for my children. Thankful for my health.
    But eventually someone spoke the unexpected.
    “I’m thankful God didn’t answer my prayer about a job I wanted my first year out of college.” Chet tipped his chair onto its back legs. “Would’ve made a lot of money, but we wouldn’t have had the life we were supposed to have. Our children wouldn’t have grown up in such a tight community, learning the values I want them to have. I’m thankful God said no to something good so we could have something better.” His voice softened. “I’m especially glad Rick got to grow up the way he did.”
    Everyone seemed to hold their breaths at the mention of his son. Empathy tightened Allison’s chest. How hard it was to speak of the loved one who was no longer present. Especially at first.
    “I nursed my mother for a few years before she died,” Becca Simpson said, breaking