Medieval Monday: Happy Thanksgiving Week!

Happy Medieval Monday! Happy Thanksgiving Week! 

I can hardly believe that the holidays are upon us!  I am grateful for so many things and look forward to celebrating with loved ones. 

Preparations, of course, can be really hectic, and sometimes they don't go as planned. Check out this scene from Tremors Through Time.

Lachlann stood with Deidre and Jackson beside the hospital bed and stared down at his friend and landlord, fighting panic. The doctor had assured them that he would be all right.

​A kitchen fire…Joe had been trying to cook too many things at once, preparing for Thanksgiving dinner, plus cooking up a big batch of fried chicken for lunch. Somehow, he’d hit the handle of the frying pan, catapulting boiling oil all over his shirt and, if that wasn’t bad enough, he had been close enough to the gas stove for his shirt to catch fire. He had first and second degree burns on his stomach, chest, right arm, and right hand.

“I’ve ruined Thanksgiving,” he groaned as the three of them stood there.

“Nonsense, Joe,” Deidre said briskly. “As long as you’re all right, we’ll have plenty to be thankful for.”

“I’m going home for Thanksgiving. Ain’t none of us going to spend it here in this hospital. But what are we going to eat?”

“Don’t worry, Joe. We’ll manage,” Lachlann assured him. His voice sounded shaky, even to himself.

“We’ll be fine,” Jackson agreed.

“It’s a holiday,” Joe persisted.

“I’ll cook,” Deidre said, “using your recipes. Rest now, cher, because I’ll be bothering you tomorrow.”

Jackson agreed to go home and clean while Lachlann and Deidre stayed with Joe through the night.

Lachlann was more grateful than he could express for her calming presence.
Fire. Just thinking about it made his insides coil. He pulled a chair close to the bed while Deidre sat nearby on the sofa.

“Lachlann, Joe’s going to be all right,” she said quietly. “He has some bad burns. He’ll be in pain for a while. But it could’ve been much worse. Joe’s tough. He’ll be okay.”

“What about infection?”

She shook her head. “They’ve given him antibiotics, and his burns have been cleaned and covered with antibacterial cream. When he goes home, we’ll make sure they stay that way until his skin is healed.”

He nodded, silently reminding himself that it was the twenty-first century. Deidre rubbed his arm soothingly. He covered her hand with his own.

“Until you…” His voice shook and he stopped. “Joe is family to me. He gave me work, a home, food, advice when I needed it.”

“None of us are going anywhere,” she said firmly.

It was a long, miserable night. He dozed in a chair, his feet propped on another.

Suddenly, Allasan was in front of him, angry. “Lachlann, go to Inbhir Nis! I want the dye! You’ll only be in my way here!”

Her face loomed close to his. As he stared at her, it Anastasia Abboud 104 became covered with boils.

“Och,” he murmured. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Allasan.”

She didn’t answer, only looked at him accusingly. Fire lit her hair and began searing her face.

He shouted.

A soothing voice, a calming touch dispelled the image. He shifted uncomfortably and kept dreaming. 

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For more Medieval Monday, be sure to visit medieval ladies Mary Morgan and Barbara Bettis.

Wishing you a wonderful Thanksgiving and happy holiday season ahead!