Thanksgiving Spankings

by Courage Knight

Chapter One

Something warm and moist brushed against her cheek. Katy swatted at it, still more asleep than not. Her hand contacted with firm, hard chest, now shaking with good-natured laughter.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Nathan whispered, trailing gentle kisses along her neck and forehead.

Katy kept her eyelids firmly closed by sheer will power.

"Want to take a shower with me?"

"No! What will your parents think?"

"That we wanted to conserve water?"

Katy blew out her breath, swatting him again. "You're impossible. We could have stayed at home, and right now we'd be enjoying a lovely shower together, but no—you had to come up north to go hunting with your dad and brothers, and leave your lovely new wife all alone! On our first Thanksgiving together."

Nathan scowled, the teasing grin vanished for a moment, but then it returned. "Sorry, sweetheart. But if we'd stayed home, right this minute we would not be in the shower, because you wouldn't be out of bed for another couple of hours."

"That's beside the point."

"Let's not disagree, Katy-Did. I love you."

How could they disagree? They never disagreed. Any time she disagreed with him, she found herself over his knee for a firm lesson in cooperation, or manners, or rules, or what ever else he felt she just had to learn by his old-fashioned methods.

Nathan gave her a quick squeeze, ensuring that any hope of falling back asleep was thoroughly squelched beneath the flame of desire that shot through her. She gazed at his dear face, her hand cupped the strong jaw now rough with new beard growth. His dark hair needed a cut, as it curled around his ears and along the collar of his blaze-orange flannel shirt. Sometimes he looked so boyish, she felt like patting him on the head.

They had met in college her sophomore year. Nathan graduated that year and got a job teaching high school history, and coaching the track team. Katy majored in early childhood education, but had agreed after one of his old-fashioned sessions over the knee that she didn't want to work outside the home, at least while any children they had were little. He'd spanked her long and hard even before their first official date, and still she married him. Must say something about her lack of intelligence, despite the four - oh grade point average she'd maintained.

"Be nice to my family," Nathan warned.

"Of course. I'm not stupid," she muttered.

He pulled her close, his hand resting possessively on the rounded swell of her bottom. "Not stupid, but willful."

Katy struggled out of his grip. "Okay, I'll be good. I'll be nice. And I'll have a wonderful time. Now go out and shoot Bambi and let me go back to sleep."

"We don’t shoot bambies," he said patiently. "We hunt mature white-tail deer. And I've told you before that if we didn't hunt deer in Wisconsin, they would starve by the hundreds. They've adjusted very well to the loss of their habitat, growing fat and lazy on our cornfields."

"La, la, la. Yes, dear. You've told me before. I still want to sleep."

Nathan rolled her onto her stomach, tugging her pajama bottoms down with a yank. His broad palm delivered a couple of solid whacks to her bottom.

"Ow! Oh, stop! Come on, Nathan! You know I don't mean to be disrespectful. But it is a couple of hours before I'm ready to be awake!"

He pressed a kiss on the reddened skin, then pulled her pajamas back into place. "That's just a warning, sweetheart. Behave yourself, or else."

She forced a pleasant smile she didn't feel. "I hope you have fun."

“Always.”

She listened for the soft click of the door as it closed, then allowed the tears to come. She didn’t want to be here! Not alone, anyway. Didn’t he get it? They were HIS parents, HIS brothers and HIS sisters-in-law. To her they were just strangers. More than a little strange. And they didn’t really like her. Except for her mother-in-law, they probably all hoped she’d get hit by a car or choke on the Thanksgiving turkey. Nathan was the favorite, everyone’s baby brother, and no one would ever be good enough for him.

Gradually the horizon lightened. A few birds chirped, in spite of the chilly November weather. The last stars faded beneath the blanket of violet, then orange cream, then sunny morning. Katy smelled coffee perking away in Nathan’s mom’s antique percolater. This family was too weird. They were like Amish practically. They had a telephone and drove trucks, but they milked cows, made their own butter, ice cream, and cheeses, and if there was a hard way to do anything, they did it. No automatic Mr. Coffee machines for them!

Still, the perked coffee did seem to taste just a bit richer. The fresh cream she poured in her coffee tasted creamier. And no one was stupid enough to complain about the fresh wheat breads Mrs. Whittier baked every week! Kathy. Mom. She’d invited Katy to call her either. Kathy seemed too disrespectful, but Mom seemed to intimate for a stranger. Nathan had looked so hurt when she’d called her Mrs. Whittier last night, though. She would try to call her mom today, if only for him.

Katy rolled out of bed and grabbed the terry robe to tie around her black satin baby-doll pajamas. She tugged a hair brush through her thick, tangled blonde hair that fell practically to her hips, then tossed it over her shoulder. Maybe at twenty-two she was getting a little old to wear her hair long, but it was so much a part of her. The memories of her mother patiently brushing her hair before school each morning, or plaiting it on Gym days, or combing out the knots after a shampoo, were precious. Damn. She wasn’t still grieving for her – not after all these years. But a part of her was jealous of the close family Nathan took for granted.

Katy grabbed the hand-rail of the too-steep stairs and managed to climb down without falling. Staggering through the crowded little kitchen, she grabbed a coffee mug and filled it.

“So, Princess, did you decide to join the land of the living?”

She ignored Kerry, Neil’s wife. Neil was the oldest brother at twenty-eight. Then came Nick, twenty-seven. Katy had learned that Mrs. Whittier – no, Mom – had had a miscarriage the following year, and then came Nathan. She’d had no more children after that, although Katy sensed the woman would have welcomed a dozen.

Kerry was also twenty-eight. She was tall and willowy, with stylish short red hair and a red-head’s complexion – papery white skin with a few red freckles. Kerry must have hated her freckles, for she always wore just a bit too much make-up, even at the butt-crack of dawn on a holiday like today.

Kimberly, Nick’s wife, caught a lock of Katy’s hair and twisted it around her finger. “Your hair is sooo long,” she said. That almost sounded like a compliment. But Katy was wrong, of course. “No one wears their hair long any more.”

“Hush, you girls. Leave our Katy-Did alone,” Mrs. Whittier clucked, wrapping Katy in a hug.

“Yes, mom,” they chorused.

Mrs. Whittier – Mom – kissed Katy on the cheek. “Would you like to have some apple bars? We won’t stand on ceremony today, and we’ll probably not even stop for lunch. Dinner will be just after sunset, unless the boys come in early.”

“Thanks… mom,” Katy whispered.

The older woman gave her a quick squeeze, then let her go.

Katy took a big slice of the apple dish, then slid into a chair at the crowded little table. The kitchen was the most poorly designed kitchen Katy had ever seen. It was a large room, the hub of a Wisconsin farm family, but it had six doors and two windows, cupboards all around, a table in the center, and absolutely nothing was convenient. It made every wonderful meal her mother-in-law managed to cook all that much more amazing.

“So what are you going to contribute,” Kerry prodded.

Katy shrugged. It was too early to deal with sisters-in-law.

“I’m making the pies, and Kimmie is making a fruit salad.”

Katy wasn’t much of a cook, and Kerry knew it.

“Katy doesn’t have to help today,” Mrs. Whittier insisted. “Not her first Thanksgiving with us. I’m sure we’re all a bit overwhelming. You just sit back and rest, sweetie. And you’ll have a whole year to think about what you’d like to bake for next year.”

“Nonsense, mom,” Katy said. The name got easier with use. “I can help with something. Setting the table, anyway. And I can mash potatoes with the best of them.”

Her new mom gave her a wide smile. Katy felt a flush of warmth run through her. She had a mom, at last. And it wasn’t like betraying her own mother’s memory, because the two women were absolutely nothing alike. Katy’s mom had been a manager at a Carter’s outlet. She’d worn business suits, nylons, and heels every day. As a single parent, she’d worked long hours, but somehow managed to fit a few precious moments with her daughter into her hectic schedule every day. Mrs. Whittier was the original earth mother. The home every day, cookies in the jar sort of mom old TV sitcoms had immortalized.

“Now you girls behave yourselves,” Mom said, shaking a finger at the older daughters-in-law. “I have to take a jar of milk over to Aunt Rita’s for her grandies. I’ll be right back. And Kerry, please keep an eye on the potatoes.”

“Yes, mom,” they said sweetly. A little too sweetly. Katy didn’t trust them. Maybe the wisest course of action was to go back to her bedroom until Mrs. Whittier returned. She finished her coffee and started to rise.

Kerry put a hand on her shoulder, patting it almost affectionately, but with a little too much pressure. “You know Nathan only married you because you have the right initials.”

Katy shook her head. “What?”

“That’s right,” Kim agreed, her eyes going wide as though she’d just made that discovery.

“You two are full of it,” Katy muttered.

“No! Dad Whittier married a Martha first, and she dumped him. Then he married Kathy and they’ve just celebrated their thirtieth wedding anniversary! So when Neil married me, and then Nick married Kim, they told Nathan that he had to marry a girl who’s first name started with a “k”. Only he didn’t listen. He dated that Cindy for three years. They even lived together for a while. But she hurt him. Hurt him bad. You just caught him on the rebound. And if your name had been Susan, or Jessica, or anything else, he never would have even considered you.”

That was nonsense! She was just saying that to be hurtful. Katy knew that, and yet, it did hurt. Was there any truth to it? Katy knew that Nathan had dated before he’d met her. Hell, he’d been twenty-one years old – two years older than she was – he’d have had to have been a monk not to have dated anyone before he’d met her! But she didn’t know he’d actually lived with someone. That was pretty serious.

And he hadn’t known that her first name wasn’t actually Katy until they were signing the marriage license. He’d looked a little shocked then, and glared at her, wanting to know if there were any more secrets. But her first name was dorky. Emma. Emma Kate. Any normal person would just go by their middle name, then, right?

“I’m going to get dressed,” Katy muttered, hurrying away from the two spiteful girls.

“Katy, don’t listen to her,” Kim called after her. “She’s just jealous.”

Katy didn’t respond. Kim wasn’t too bad, but she followed Kerry everywhere. They were like joined at the hip. It didn’t help that both the older brothers were farming with their dad, so they lived just across the road. They got together with Mr. and Mrs. Whittier regularly. They were a tight family, and Katy was the outsider.

Slipping off the satin pajamas, Katy wondered what she should wear. Thanksgiving was a pretty big production for the Whittier family, but Katy could barely remember celebrating it before. After her mother passed away, Katy had lived in three different foster homes. They were nice folks, for the most part, but they were not required to keep her for holidays. They traveled to their relatives, and she spent every Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter at the state home. Institutional turkey over watery instant mashed potatoes with mushy green beans was hardly something to get excited about. Every year she was given a Christmas present, thanks to Toys for Tots and other programs, and it was always something new – not a recycled cast-off. But it was something bought anonymously, wrapped and labeled “girl”. She got a doll, or stuffed toy, every year. Never something she really wanted.

Well, most of the day would be spent hanging around waiting for the boys to get back from hunting. She would put on something casual for now, and change again before dinner. Katy slipped on the pink plaid flannel shirt and her favorite pair of Oshkosh overalls. Then she braided her hair in a single, long braid to keep it out of the food while they cooked. She tucked a pair of socks in a back pocket – no one wore shoes inside Mrs. Whittier’s house. There were a couple of throw rugs next to each door, and a dozen pair of shoes lined up on them. Sunday shoes on the rugs by the front door. Barn shoes on the rugs by the back door. Grabbing a novel to read, so she wouldn’t go completely insane, Katy started down the stairs again.

“Kimmie, can you keep an eye on the potatoes,” Kerry asked.

Katy hid on the stairs. It sounded like Kerry was going somewhere, so maybe she wouldn’t have to see her for a while.

“Sure,” Kim said. “But I’m going out to feed the cats in a minute.”

“Well, just splash a little more water on them, then. Mom should be back soon.”

The water pipes clunked as Kim turned on the faucet. Katy waited a moment more, then heard the door bang twice as each sister-in-law left for her errand. Alone! Finally! Waiting for Nathan wouldn’t be so bad, if she didn’t have to put up with his family. Mom would be back soon, Aunt Rita just lived down the road a mile or two. Aunt Rita was actually her father-in-law’s aunt. She was old. Her husband had passed on even before Nathan was born. She had sold her dairy cows, and Dad Whittier leased her fields. She walked with two canes, was a little on the heavy side, and always smelled like chocolate chip cookie dough. Katy liked her.

The potatoes weren’t boiling any more. Mom had explained that she boiled them early, and mashed them. Then right before dinner, she’d reheat them in the microwave. There was so much to cook, and it all had to be done at the same time. Then a truly ingenious idea took root. A chance to get even with Kerry for all the mean, awful things she’d said to her. It had been Kerry’s job to watch the potatoes, and she wasn’t here. Katy took two hot pads, carried the pot to the sink, and dumped out all the water. Then she returned it to the stove. Putting the hot pads away, Katy quickly slipped upstairs to wait.

Ten minutes passed, then maybe ten more. She’d stared at the pages of her novel without actually reading anything. Maybe that was a dumb prank. Nathan would be furious if he found out. She should go down right now and clean it up! But then she heard a car return, and rushed to the window. The battered ’94 Ford pickup that had once been red and white but was now the color of rust pulled into the garage. Mrs. Whittier was back. Katy put down the novel she hadn’t been reading and waited.

The front door banged – it was on a tight spring and it always banged shut. Mrs. Whittier said it was to scare the flies away. Katy heard bags rustling – Aunt Rita must have sent Mom Whittier back with more stuff than she’d left with. Maybe some chocolate chip cookies? Katy could hope. Then she heard Mrs. Whittier gasp, and decided that was a good time to run down the stairs.

“Mom? What’s wrong?” she asked innocently.

“The potatoes! Didn’t you smell anything?”

Katy could see a cloud of smoke and something smelled terribly burned. She waved her hand and coughed. “I’m so sorry, Mom,” she said. “No, I didn’t smell anything. Kerry was being mean, so I hid in my room.”

Mrs. Whittier gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, honey. It’s not your fault. Please, open a few windows and we’ll see if we can get this smoke out of here.”

Katy did as she was asked with a cheerful smile. Maybe Mrs. Whittier would scold Kerry, and maybe she would be nicer to her today. Then she spotted the bags Mrs. Whittier had dumped on the kitchen table. “What’s this?”

“Oh, Rita sent them over. She made a ton of cookies, but most of her grandchildren aren’t going to be able to make it this year. At least, that was her excuse this time. I think she sent us cookies because she loves to bake.”

“I don’t mind,” Katy said. She grabbed a handful and stuffed one in her mouth. Aunt Rita made chocolate chip cookies right. They were almost perfectly round, and soft, and gooey-chewy, and tasted like she used real butter, not vegetable shortening. Mom Whittier was a great cook, and almost everything she made was picture perfect, but her cookies were crunchy.

Mom Whittier dumped the ruined potatoes in the trash. She took a spatula and tried to scrape the burned-on parts, too, but they were stuck solid. Shame grabbed Katy’s heart and burned in her throat.

“I can wash that for you, Mom,” she offered.

“No, thanks. Kerry will scrub it.”

Katy hid a smile behind another cookie.

“But would you like to help me peel some more potatoes?”

Not really, but she did feel a little guilty. She took the pairing knife Mom Whittier offered, and grabbed a big potato that still had some dirt on it. The peels came off in thick chunks, not smooth little strips like Mom Whittier’s. And the white flesh underneath got dirty. Mom Whittier didn’t seem to mind. She tossed the peeled potato in the sink, and grabbed another.

“Frankly, I’d just as soon not have any potatoes,” Mom Whittier said. “Not a lot of food value in a potato. I prefer sweets myself, but these are Nathan’s favorites. Just like his daddy, that way. After the turkey, and dressing, and pumpkin pie, they’ll finish up on another serving of mashed potatoes, if the's any left. I should just put a mound of mashed potatoes in a pie crust and serve that for dessert.”

“You make the best mashed potatoes.” They were good, too. Nothing like the watery rehydrated mush served at the state home.

“The secret’s in growing a good potato, to start with,” Mom whispered, giving her a big smile. “Then, not over-cooking it. And I add cream, instead of milk, when I mash. Then, I like to use white pepper – it looks nicer than all those little specks of black pepper.”

Katy tried to commit that to memory. It was a little embarrassing that Nathan was a better cook than she was – and he didn’t really know much about cooking. She had a cookbook, and she used it a lot, but it gave a lot of directions that included a can of this, or a box of that – and not how to do anything from scratch.

It was very companionable, having just her and Mom in the kitchen. She kind of hoped that Kerry and Kim took a long time doing whatever it was they were doing. Kim had said something about feeding the cats, but that shouldn’t take so long. And Kerry never said. Katy helped peel a small mountain of white potatoes, then she watched as Mom scrubbed them clean, and put them in a fresh pot full of water.

“There,” Mom said, clapping her hands together. “Now it’s time to start the bread dough.”

Katy learned how the water had to be just the right temperature, so it didn’t kill the yeast. She learned how the yeast liked just a little sweetener with the flour, to grow really well, and how to kneed the bread dough until it was smooth and elastic. Actually, making bread from scratch didn’t seem all that difficult. Maybe Mom Whittier wouldn’t mind writing down the recipe for her – as she didn’t use a cookbook at all.

“Now,” Mom said, as she wiped up the excess flour from the little table. “I’m going to work on my afghan for a bit, just to rest my feet. It’s going to get hectic later.”

Katy pulled out her novel and sat down to read. It wasn’t long before Mom Whittier’s head was nodding, though. Katy knew she got up before five every morning, and was often still awake when Katy dragged herself to bed after the nightly news. When Katy heard the older woman snoring softly, she figured she was sound asleep.

Maybe it was time for a second prank? A little one. Mom would scold Kerry about the potatoes, but Kim wasn’t blameless, either. Kim could have defended Katy just once, instead of siding with Kerry all the time. Katy put on her shoes and slipped outside.

Kerry’s car was gone – and parked down the road in her driveway. She didn’t live that far – half a mile, maybe, but she usually drove over. Katy figured that if she lived nearby, she’d get a bike, or just walk. Kerry could use a little more exercise, too. Then Katy saw Kim walking up to Kerry’s door. So much for feeding the cats!

Katy unhooked the electric wire fence, then opened the side door to the barn – the little one meant for people, not the big one the cows went in and out of. In the back corner, in a large pen that sometimes held calves, was a pile of hay with a furry little mound of kittens. Four kittens that were about four weeks old. Their quiet little mews were so precious! Katy hoped Nathan would let her keep one, but pets weren’t allowed in their rental agreement.

A pan of warm, fresh milk sat on the floor, another dish was full of kibble. Kim had been there already. Katy sat on the hay, pulling one kitty into her lap. “Hey, little guy,” she cooed. This one was black everywhere. She’d named him Darth Vader. The gold one was Luke. The two orange tabbies were girls, she’d named Skip and Scamp.

She kind of envied Kerry and Kim in their nice little farm houses down the road. No landlords to deal with. They both had gardens, and competed against each other to see who could grow the best tomatoes. Kerry had a dog, and Kim had two cats. And they would probably never have to move.

Nathan’s job would be over at the end of the year. The school was down-sizing, and combining the history teacher position with social studies. The current social studies teacher had tenure, so Nathan would have to find something else. He had his resume out at a dozen schools already, but most positions wouldn’t be listed until spring.

Katy thought again about the prank she could play. She could dump out the kitty food, and make them think that Kim hadn’t fed them. But that was mean. It would hurt the kitties more than Kim. And Kim wasn’t really that unkind to her. Katy kissed each of the kittens, then stood and brushed off the hay chaff. She hurried back inside and took up her book again. Mom Whittier woke up a few minutes later.

“Oh, what a lazy-bones I am! Sleeping when there’s so much to be done! Goodness,” she clucked.