A Mornelly Thanksgiving: Part One

This week, I was consulting with the Mornellys on if I should write this story down or not. After much tossing back and forth, it was agreed that it was time for you to get to know the Mornellys a bit more- and some of their friends that you may not know. 

NOTE: Red Crisis is postponed this week in observance of Thanksgiving and to make room for this special Thanksgiving story.

So without further ado, our special story of the week!

A Mornelly Thanksgiving

as told by the Mornellys to

Emily McConnell

“I’ve been thinking,” ten-year-old Aileen Mornelly began. She paused from eating her breakfast, her hazel blue eyes deep in thought.

“That’s deadly,” Ciarán mumbled under his breath. He picked at his pancake suspiciously. “Breandan, what did you put in this?”

“You’re so mean!” Aileen retorted. She glared at her dark-haired gloomy brother, then turned to her two oldest brothers, Bran and Aichear. “It’s almost Thanksgiving.”

“So it is,” Bran responded, absentmindedly. He continued to read his book, every now and then taking a bite of his pancakes. “So it is.”

“I think my food is alive,” Ciarán grunted.

“Shut up, it’s fine,” Breandan snapped. “I thought you didn’t care about anything, anyways.” The most laid-back of the family of six, Breandan looked about ready to strangle Ciarán. He twirled a knife in his hand dangerously. “Now eat your food or I’ll shove it down your throat.”

“Touché.”

“I wanna see this,” Damhán remarked. He grinned and leaned a bit closer at the table, looking from Ciarán to Breandan. “Why don’t you, Brenda?”

“Say that one more time and I’ll punch you in the face, Baby Brother.”

“Anyways, what I was saying,” Aileen started, but Bran interrupted.

“What’s up with you anyways, Breandan? You’re not usually this- erm, shall we say, irritable?”

Breandan shoved his chair back from the table, crossing his arms. It was very rare to see the middle brother in such a mood. “Simple. Everyone’s refusing to eat the breakfast I made them. I spent four hours on those pancakes, and not one "thank you" has come from any of you!”

“Thank you,” Aileen squeaked.

“Except Aileen,” Breandan added under his breath.

“I have problems eating things that move.”

Breandan shot Ciarán a disgusted look. “It’s fine! It’s not moving!”

“Someone a little “edgy” after the last pancake incident?” Damhán smirked. “Not like you to get squirmy, Ciarán. I thought doctors didn’t bat an eye at strange things.”

“That’s a different matter.” He didn’t respond to the accusation that he was suspicious of all pancakes after the last prank Gerhard had pulled off. “Entirely a different matter.”

“Can I please talk now?” Aileen looked from one brother to another, her eyes narrowed. “I have an idea.”

Either no one had heard her or she was being ignored. Both of which happened a lot.

Aileen sighed. Such was the way of life in the Mornelly household- the youngest was to respect the elders and expect not to be respected. Or their opinion listened to. She picked up her plate and headed for the kitchen, stacking her dish in the sink.

“What is this idea of yours, little sister?”

Aileen squeaked. She whirled around and looked up into the face of her oldest brother, Aichear. She hadn’t even heard him come in!

Aichear set his plate in the sink on top of hers and looked down at her, waiting.

“It’s about Thanksgiving,” she started.

“I gathered that.”

“I had an idea about it.”

“Mhm. And that is?”

Sometimes being with Aichear made her feel very small and unimportant. He always was doing something noble or cool. Her ideas no doubt looked childish to him. But he was waiting for her to talk.

“We should celebrate Thanksgiving this year,” she said in a rush. “We haven’t ever really done that.”

Aichear nodded, taking it in. He was quiet for a bit. “And the purpose of this celebration, in your mind, is…?”

“To be thankful,” she replied. “To be thankful we’re together and are a family and for all the other things we should be thankful for.”

“Ah, I see.” He took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes. Once he put the glasses on again, he studied her with a thoughtful look. “You do realize Thanksgiving is an American holiday, right?”

“Actually, people around the whole world celebrate it,” she pointed out. “They celebrate it in Canada, and they also celebrate a form of it in Russia. Besides, what’s wrong with it being American?”

“Nothing, actually. You were the one who wasn’t that impressed with American holidays in the first place,” he reminded her. “You felt they were too commercialized.”

Oh. She had thought that, hadn’t she? She was getting tired of Christmas music playing two weeks before Thanksgiving in all the stores back in the twenty-first century, where she and Breandan had befriended a family of ten kids.

“This time, I think, is different,” she decided.

“Is that so?” Aichear put one hand on the counter and leaned against it.

“Yes. I think we need to do this. I think we need to have a special family holiday.”

“We celebrate Christmas,” he pointed out.

“Do… do you not like my idea?” She bit her lower lip.

“No, it’s fine.” He straightened again and shook his head. “I didn’t mean that at all. I merely was exploring how committed you were to this idea by providing a couple of provoking thoughts.”

She blinked. “Uhm, what?”

He sighed. “I meant that I wanted you to think about it first. Why you wanted to do it.”

“Oh! I want to do it because I want to spend time with all of you and just celebrate being a family! I’m thankful for my family.”

Aileen watched her big brother for any signs of interest or excitement.

He didn’t show any excitement, which she expected, but he did let a tiny smile cross his face. He patted her on the shoulder. “That’s good, Aileen. I will talk to Bran about it and see what he thinks. I know Breandan and Damhán will be all for it. We won’t even ask Ciarán.”

At the mention of her gloomy brother, Aileen giggled. “He wouldn’t care, anyways. He doesn’t care about anything.” She paused, glanced towards the kitchen, then leaded forward. She whispered, “But don’t you think he’ll feel left out if you don’t ask his opinion?”

“I suppose.” Aichear pulled his left ear a bit. “Perhaps I’ll just bring it up to all of them at the same time. Since it was your idea, if we approve this than I’ll let you do the planning.”

Aileen’s mouth dropped open. “Me?”

Aichear couldn’t be serious! He never let her plan anything! In fact none of her brothers did. She was always assigned things to do that “wouldn’t get her in trouble or be in the way”. All of those projects were boring and not very helpful in her eyes. But Aichear was going to let her plan a whole holiday?

“With Breandan’s help,” Aichear corrected himself. “He is the chef, he knows what to cook. I don’t want you using the stove. Remember the last such incident?”

She did. But that didn’t matter right now. “Okay,” she agreed. “Breandan can be in charge of making the food. But did you really mean I can plan the day?”

Now Aichear didn’t look so sure of himself. “Well…”

“You’re not going back on your word, are you?” Aileen crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.

Aichear took that as a challenge. “Don’t talk that way to me, young lady,” he warned.

She knew better than to say anything else when he took that tone with her. That was his don’t make me annoyed or you’ll regret it tone. He rarely used it on her. She dropped her arms and looked down at the floor.

“Sorry. But- but I really, really want to do the planning. I never get to plan anything. Will you let me?”

Puppy dog eyes time.

She looked up at Aichear and did her best, sad and innocent expression she could manage.

It didn’t seem to work on him, that or he didn’t notice. Both of which were possible.

“You… well, you…” he sighed and put a hand to his head. “I suppose you can plan it… so long as you check with me on your plans. I hadn’t given it much thought before I spoke. But first, we have to check with our brothers to make sure this is acceptable to them. If they don’t want to do it, then we’ll leave it at that. This is a family effort.”

“Oh, I understand, Aichear!” She squealed and leapt forward, hugging his waist. “Oh, but this will be the best Thanksgiving ever!”

“If the boys approve,” he reminded her.

“Yes, if the boys say okay,” she agreed.

Of course they would say it was fine. Who didn’t want to have yummy turkey and good food? Especially boys. They loved to eat.

To read more click here>>> PART TWO