It's snowing. On Thanksgiving Day. Snowing! And it's not the sort of snow you see in those Christmas movies, where it falls soft and gentle, covering all it touches in a blanket of pure and clean. No, this snow is not like that at all. This snow is like falling ice picks, jabbing at you from every direction. Stabbing your skin. Jab. Jab. Stab! And the wind. The wind is like a slap to the face and then a punch to the nose, causing your cheeks to swell and your eyes to tear up.

Maggie's teeth chatter. She can't control the shake. Between the ice picks and the wind punches, she's never been so painfully freezing in all her life. 

Charlie tilts his thermos, filling her cup to the brim with hot chocolate.

"Liquid gold," she says, inhaling a waft of steam as if it's oxygen, and she is almost out of air. She wraps her fingers around the cup, taking in every bit of heat it'll offer. She would love to feel her fingertips again.

At the end of the third quarter, the Fishermen have a twenty-one point lead. 

According to Drew, it's an all-out blow-out. "We're kickin' the livin' daylights out of 'em!" he shouts. According to Cay, it's time to leave. Maggie couldn't agree with her more. 

Drew folds his arms across his chest. "Staying until the last whistle blows is a tradition." 

Charlie nods. "We're not going anywhere."

"Nowhere!" Drew proclaims, wrapping his arm around Charlie's shoulder in solidarity. 

Cay pulls her phone from her pocket and swipes. "Time to eat. Your mom just texted. Thanksgiving dinner is ready." 

Drew drops his arm from Charlie's shoulder. They both shrug and head down the stairs. "You had me at eat," Drew says.

The four of them run through the parking lot as if they're being chased by a polar bear. They pile into Drew's truck. Maggie and Charlie practically fall over one another, clamoring for the back seat. 

Cay nuzzles up to Drew and shakes her hands. "I can't feel my fingers." 

Drew revs the engine. 

Cay cranks the heat.

Maggie's teeth chatter. "I can't feel my entire body." She holds her hands in front of the vents, catching nothing but cold air. 

Charlie fumbles with the buttons. "It's broken. Here, let me ..." He takes her hands and folds them between his. "Maggie, you're freezing." He unzips his coat, wraps his arm around her and pulls her into his body heat. His fleece pullover smells of cheeseburgers. He rubs his hand up and down her arm. "You'll be warm in no time," he whispers into her hair. 

He's right. Charlie is a human heating pad. It's doubtful that he's ever uttered the words, "I'm cold" in his entire life. 

Maggie's body slowly unthaws. 

Charlie's body tenses underneath her. "Are you still mad at me? You know, for telling Cay and Dr. Banes about the art room –- about Eli?" 

Truth is, Maggie is mad, but mostly at herself. How could she ever have thought that she and Eli could have a normal relationship? They're two kids from a psych ward, caught in a soul war – it was bound to get messy. And besides, she's tired of fighting with everyone. She's determined to find a way to Fallowshill and to Eli without their help.

"I know you were just looking out for me," she says. 

Charlie squeezes her tighter against his chest. Her head rises and falls as he inhales a deep steady breath and slowly lets it go.

"You two are coming to the dance later, right?" Cay's red lips match her red hat perfectly.

"Yeah," Charlie says. "I'm sleeping at Drew's." 

Maggie leans forward. "What dance?" With all the distractions lately, Cayder Bay High School events have been the last thing on her mind. 

"The Thanksgiving Dance. Everyone who's anyone will be there," Cay sings. She raises her eyebrows and grins. "The decorations will be a-MAY-zing."

Drew glances at Maggie in the rearview mirror. "It's tradition. You should go, City Girl." 

Charlie nudges Maggie's arm. "Wouldn't miss it, right? I know how much you love school dances." His voice is dripping with sarcasm. 

"Of course I wouldn't miss it." 

Charlie tilts his head. His eyebrows squish together. "I thought you hated school dances."

She shrugs. "I changed my mind." She taps Cay on the shoulder. "Can I sleep at your house?" 

Cay bounces in her seat. "Yes, absolutely Maggie." 

A crescent moon smile fills Maggie's lips as she plots her escape to Fallowshill. 

"It'll be so much fun!" Cay yelps, reaching out and squeezing Maggie's hand. "It's good to have you back, Maggie. I've missed you." 

Drew nods. "Yeah, we've missed you, City Girl." 

Cay goes on and on about the Fall-themed decorations that will fill the high school cafeteria as Drew steers the O'Connell and Son's pickup truck through the falling snow. By the time he pulls into Cove Manor's driveway, Cay has described the entire layout of haystacks, carved pumpkins and falling leaves.

Charlie and Maggie scoot out from the back seat and push the car door shut. 

Drew rolls down his window. "We'll pick you up at six," he says. "Happy Thanksgiving!" he yells as the truck disappears into a white wall of falling snow. 

Charlie turns to Maggie. His forehead furrows. "You sure you're okay?" 

Maggie nods. "Yeah." 

"You're awfully agreeable."

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Of course I wouldn't miss the school dance! Can I sleep at your house, Cay? What was that about?" 

Maggie threads her arm through Charlie's, as they walk down the driveway. "I'm making up for lost time." 

Charlie stops just before the front door. "You've done a complete 180."

"'I've missed you guys." 

Charlie's mouth is a straight, hard line. 

She nudges his arm. "Really!" 

He raises his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. I believe you! I've just never seen you  so excited about anything."

"Let's just say –- I figured some stuff out and leave it at that, okay?"

Charlie tilts his head and shrugs. "Fine." 

"Good! I'm starving." She folds her hands together in front of her face in a prayer pose. "Can we go eat? Now? Please?" 

The corners of Charlie's mouth turn up. "I never thought you'd be begging me to eat!" 

Maggie exhales a sigh of relief as Charlie pushes through the front door. 

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The dining room table looks like the feature photo in a Better Homes and Garden's Magazine for Best Thanksgiving Spreads.

Charlie's mouth drops open. "Look at all this food!" He piles a mound of mashed potatoes onto his plate.

Jonathan wraps his arm around Connie. She hugs him around his waist, shiny with that rosy glow she gets when he's near.

He slides a chair out from the table. "Shall we?" he says, taking a seat.

Charlie is gripping a fork in one hand and a knife in the other, staring down at his food mountain. Maggie's eyes drift over the table. There's enough roasted turkey and side dishes to feed a small village, never mind the four of them.

Jonathan folds his hands in front of his face. "I'll say the blessing."

Connie lifts her wine glass to her lips and takes a big gulp. Charlie traces ski trails down his food mountain with the tip of his fork. Maggie stares at Jonathan resting his forehead against his clasped hands. She has seen plenty of people pray on TV and she has read poems that are prayers too. Some of her favorite characters in her books are praying people, but she has never seen a person pray up close and personal like this. Going to church and praying were never on the Krane priority list, or anywhere near it, for that matter.

Jonathan closes his eyes. His voice gets low and soft, just above a whisper, as if he's speaking to someone in the room. "Dear Lord, thank you for the many blessings you have bestowed upon us. 'For each new morning with its light, For rest and shelter of the night, For health and food, For love and friends, For everything Thy goodness sends.' Amen."

"Amen!" Charlie echoes, wasting no time digging into his food mountain and shoveling a pile of stuffing into his mouth.

As much as Maggie wants to hate Jonathan for Connie cheating on Joe with him, he continues to give her reasons not too. She butters a bread roll. "That prayer. It's by Ralph Waldo Emerson," she says.

Jonathan nods. "He's one of my favorite poets." He passes the potatoes her way. "And that's one of my favorite prayers."

Maggie's stomach tightens, but it's not because of hunger-- it's because of what she's done and what she plans to do. She lied to Cay and Drew. She lied to Charlie. She will lie to Connie and Jonathan. She'll tell them she's sleeping at Cay's, but she'll catch a bus to Fallowshill instead. She'll lie to Joe when she shows up at his apartment. She'll tell him Connie let her go after all. She'll find a way to help Eli escape the JDC. They'll run away together –- just the two of them. She'll never see Connie or Joe or Charlie or Cay or Drew ever again. Her stomach is a twisted knot.

Jonathan slaps a slice of turkey onto her plate. "Charlie and I have a Thanksgiving tradition. Every year, we make it a point to say what or who we're thankful for." He glances at Connie and then at Maggie. "You two in?"

If Maggie had a dollar for every tradition she's been part of since moving to Cayder Bay, she wouldn't have had to scrounge left over lunch money to buy a bus ticket for her escape to Fallowshill. Cayder Bay Island has more traditions than seashells, for goodness' sake.

Connie takes a sip of wine. "What do you say, Maggie? We have a lot to be thankful for."

Maggie shrugs.

Jonathan reaches across the table and folds Connie's hand into his. His face turns as soft and mushy as Maggie's mashed potatoes. If Maggie didn't know any better, she'd think he was about to pop the question, right there and then.

"I'm thankful for you," he tells Connie. "It's been a long time since this house has felt like a home. Thank you for making it a home again."

Connie wipes at her face and shakes her head, as if she's surprised by her own tears. Maggie is surprised too. She's used to seeing Connie cry, but never tears of joy.

Connie presses her napkin against her face. "I'm thankful for you, Jonathan," she says, finding her voice underneath all the emotion. Her chin quivers. "I'm thankful that you invited Maggie and me to live here at Cove Manor with you and Charlie." She squeezes Maggie's hand. "Being here has meant the world to us." 

Maggie's hand stays stiff underneath Connie's grasp.

Charlie washes down a mouthful of food with a glass of milk. He wipes his face with the back of his hand. "As you all know, for a long time it's just been me and Dad in this big, old house." He glances at Jonathan. "As much as I love ya, Dad, it's been nice having company." He lifts his eyes to Maggie and Connie. "I'm thankful for remembering what I had forgotten. Dad's right. You two have breathed life into this house."

Maggie looks at the three of them staring at her with expectant faces, waiting on her words. They seem so content and complete in each other's company and she just feels –- something else.

Connie squeezes her hand. "Maggie? What are you thankful for?"

Maggie feels anything but thankful. If she could make a list of all the things she is unthankful for, this exercise would be easy. To start, she is unthankful that Eli is locked-up. She is also unthankful for Dread's relentless hunt. And she is especially unthankful for the secrets and lies she is spinning at this very moment, which leads to the one thing she is thankful for –- if all goes as planned, it won't be long before she and Eli are together again.

"Maggie?" Connie repeats. "What are you thankful for?"

Maggie clears her throat. "People make mistakes," she says. "So, I guess I'm thankful for second chances. Yeah, that's what I'm thankful for -- second chances to make things right." 

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