Archive of Our Own ^beta

If anyone had told Rebecca four years ago that one day she’d be sitting on an overstuffed couch in the cozy living room of a farmhouse, already decorated for Christmas (“Mom goes a little overboard for the holidays,” Ted had said sheepishly, with an embarrassed hand on the back of his neck), watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade for the very first time, with a graying golden retriever on one side and her future mother-in-law on the other, she would’ve called them a liar.

Rebecca Welton didn’t do farms, or dogs, or mother-in-laws, as a rule… and, as a born-and-bred Brit, she most certainly didn’t do Thanksgiving.

Yet, here she was, in Middle-of-Nowhere Kansas, sharing tentative smiles with Margaret Lasso (“Call me Maggie, dear”), and occasionally patting the dog, Daisy, on her head, while Ted was hard at work in the kitchen cooking up a small feast.

Rebecca had offered to help him, despite admittedly not being very handy in the kitchen, but Ted had insisted she spend some time getting to know his mother instead, now that they were officially engaged. He’d popped the question just a few short weeks ago, and while Rebecca had mixed emotions about the institution of marriage, the thought of being engaged to Ted filled her with a kind of bubbly, effervescent joy she hadn’t felt since childhood.

Mrs. Lasso had been understandably excited to hear the news of their recent engagement, and upon discovering AFC Richmond had a bye week in the days leading up to Thanksgiving, had immediately offered her hospitality to them.

She’d only met Rebecca once before, after showing up unexpectedly in Richmond at the end of Ted’s third season and insisting she meet the woman who had changed her son’s life. But that had been before Ted and Rebecca had officially been an item, and Rebecca hadn’t felt the overwhelming need for Mrs. Lasso’s approval. Now that she had an engagement ring on her finger, the pressure of making a good impression—of being deemed worthy of Ted in his mother’s eyes—was nearly unbearable.

Not that Mrs. Lasso—or rather, Maggie—had ever given Rebecca reason to believe she didn’t approve of her. On the contrary, Maggie had gone out of her way to make Rebecca feel welcome, as if she were already family. Rebecca was surprised by the ease at which Mrs. Lasso accepted a near-stranger immediately into her family, almost as if she wasn't a stranger at all.

Which was how Rebecca wound up sitting in a warm sweater and her most comfortable black leggings, sandwiched between a dog and a red-haired midwestern woman, watching the most painfully American parade she'd ever seen, waiting for someone to criticize her outfit, or insult her character for lazing the morning away on the couch, and trying to accept this was just how normal, kind people celebrated a holiday.

Rebecca had asked Ted multiple times if her outfit would be far too casual for dinner with his mother, having only ever dressed in formal wear for the holidays when she was with Rupert, but he'd insisted she could wear her pajamas and his mama would just be happy she was comfortable.

She felt incredibly out of place, and yet, perfectly welcome. Maggie would occasionally point to the television to explain a particular float, and Rebecca would try to listen as best she could, even when she had to admit, she didn't understand the lion's share of what Ted's mother was talking about.

When the parade eventually cut to a commercial, Maggie stood from the couch with a groan. “These old bones ain’t what they used to be.” Turning to face Rebecca, Maggie gestured towards the kitchen with a smile, “You need anythin’ to eat or drink, young lady? I want an excuse to check that my boy ain’t makin' a mess of my beautiful kitchen.”

Rebecca chuckled as Ted yelled from the other room, “I heard that, ma!”

“That boy has the ears of an elephant,” Maggie stage-whispered, before reaching out to stroke Daisy’s fur where she laid beside Rebecca on the couch. “Can I get you some of those biscuits you love so much? Or how ‘bout I make you a little sandwich to tide you over ‘till supper?”

Faced with Maggie’s kind green eyes and tender expression, Rebecca was suddenly overcome by an intense rush of…something. She was rendered speechless, unable to untangle the web of emotion that had stolen her voice from her.

Unbidden, the memory of holidays spent with Rupert filled her mind’s eye. Rupert had relentlessly criticized her eating habits when they were married—even during the holidays where over-eating was not only encouraged, but expected—until the simple act of having a bite to eat in the presence of others felt shameful. It had taken years to unlearn the habits she’d developed as his wife, and yet, here she was, struggling to respond like a normal human person to a simple question.

Finally, after working her mouth over the words for several moments, she managed, “I’m fine, thank you,” but it sounded unconvincing, even to her own ears.

“Oh, honey,” Maggie said, leaning in to take Rebecca’s chin gently in her hand. “You don’t have ‘ta say a word, huh? I’ll just rustle somethin’ up real quick. Be back in the shake of a lamb’s tail.”

Humiliation burned in Rebecca’s throat as Maggie shuffled out of the living room, her eyes blurring as she tried to focus on the ridiculous balloon floats that had returned to the tv screen. Both the people marching in the parade and the ones watching it from behind metal barriers were smiling and waving at the camera, without a care in the world, even as some of them shivered from the cold and shuffled their feet after standing in the same place for hours. 

Why couldn't she be like them? Why couldn’t she just be normal? Why did even the most mundane things bring her right to the edge of an emotional display…?

Rebecca was torn from her thoughts when she felt a gentle lick to her hand. Daisy was looking up at her with a special brand of unconditional love that seemed unique to dogs—not that Rebecca had much experience of it. Her parents had never let her have a pet, no matter how much she begged. 

How did even the dog know how close she was to the edges of herself?

“Good girl,” Rebecca whispered, her hands shaking slightly as she stroked the soft fur of Daisy’s head. Leaning down, Rebecca wrapped her arms around the dog in an attempt to calm her nerves.

“How are two of my favorite girls doin’?” Ted came out of the kitchen still wearing his mother’s floral apron, a plate of freshly baked biscuits in hand. “I knew Daisy would win you over—never had any doubt. She’s a real sweetheart. Not much of a working dog, it turned out, but a great companion for Ma.”

Ted paused as he set down the biscuits on the coffee table, his eyes following Rebecca’s attempts to subtly wipe tears away from the corner of her eyes. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Rebecca insisted, waving Ted’s concern away. “That’s just it, Ted—nothing’s wrong.”

Ted took Maggie’s seat beside Rebecca, lifting his arm for her to lean into his side. “Your face is tellin’ a different story, little lady.”

Rebecca didn’t know how to explain that nothing being wrong was so unfamiliar that that was precisely what was wrong, without sounding as crazy as she felt. This is what family was supposed to feel like—easy and loving and gentle, without criticism or silent treatment or any number of other punishments.

Rebecca didn’t know how to describe the grief that came with the realization that this was how holidays were meant to feel, with the knowledge that she’d never had it in her life before now. Sure, she’d occasionally moments that felt like it on the surface, with her mother’s shepherd’s pie with cheesy top, and her grandmother’s biscuits, and her father dancing to “Singing in the Rain,” and Rupert buying her anything she asked for, but those demonstrations of love had always come with a price.

Rebecca didn’t know what to do with love that was given so freely, without it being treated like a business transaction. After all, wasn’t that what marriage was—a business decision, to combine assets and acquire a person who carries a sense of duty to meet your needs? And wasn’t that why parents had children—so they would be taken care of in their old age?

Rebecca didn’t know how to love this way—without fear of what would be expected in return. What if she messed it all up? What would Ted and Maggie think of her if she couldn’t reciprocate it? What if she hurt them with all her sharp edges?

The first sob came out completely against her will, with her face buried in Ted’s neck. He immediately tightened his arms around her, whispering soothing words into the top of her head.

“It’s okay, darlin’, just let it all out. There we go.”

Rebecca tried to be quiet as she cried, not wanting Maggie to hear her from the kitchen. But it was no use—Ted’s mom suddenly appeared in the living room with a cup of tea in one hand and a plate of tiny sandwiches, her face the picture of heartache.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t—don’t know why I’m—crying,” Rebecca struggled to get the words out as she removed herself from Ted’s arms, wiping aggressively at her face in a fruitless attempt to compose herself.

“Hey, hey, Rebecca, none of that—it’s okay. Sometimes you just gotta have a good cry.”

“I can’t imagine what you must think of me, Mrs. Lasso—” Rebecca began, a hand pressed to her chest, trying to force her breathing back to normal.

“What I think,” Maggie responded, her eyes soft, understanding, as she exchanged a glance with Ted before returning her gaze to Rebecca, “is that you come from a different kind of family, and a different kind of home, and gettin’ used to the Lasso Way is bound to be a bit of an adjustment. There’s no shame in that, dear.”

“You’re too kind. Here I am, being hysterical—”

“None of that,” Maggie said, her voice brooking no argument, gentle but firm. “You think I’ve never cried on Thanksgiving before? I’ll tell ya, I had whole years after my husband passed where I couldn’t even get out of bed.”

Rebecca felt Ted’s arms stiffen around her, and immediately felt worse. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry,” Ted insisted, taking a deep breath to calm his own body. “You never have to be sorry for showing us how you feel.”

“But the holiday has hardly even started, and I’m already ruining it.”

Maggie let out a good-natured chuckle, shaking her head. “Ruin Thanksgiving? With a few tears? Honey, I’ve had my share of ‘ruined’ holidays—what with emergency room visits for broken bones from my boy horsing around with his cousins, a dog stealing the turkey right off the table, and heck—one year I was warmin’ up some oil to sauté some vegetables and the pan caught on fire! A few tears got nothin’ on Ted coverin’ my whole kitchen from floor to ceiling in foam from the fire extinguisher, despite only one little pan bein’ on fire.”

Rebecca could feel more than hear Ted letting out an amused huff. “Forgive me for wantin’ ‘a make sure I put the whole fire out.”

Wiping up the last of her tears, Rebecca sat back up, easing herself off Ted’s shoulder so she could look at both Lassos properly before saying, “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, dear,” Maggie said, pushing the cup of tea into her hands. “Drink up. It’s almost time for Santa’s sleigh, and I want all those tears dry by the time the real show begins.”

Rebecca furrowed her brow as she took a long sip of her tea, her eyes flicking from Maggie to Ted in confusion.

“She means the national dog show. Mama loves to watch those puppies prance around like little reindeer and gets real upset when her favorites never win.”

“Hush, you!” Maggie said, reaching for her son’s arms to pull him off the couch so she could reclaim her spot beside Rebecca. “You need to be gettin’ back in the kitchen, boy, if we wanna eat before the sun sets.”

“I’m goin’, I’m goin’…” Ted laughs, winking at Rebecca before following his mother’s orders.

And just like that, Rebecca and Mrs. Lasso returned to watching the parade, as if nothing had ever happened, and no tears had been shed. Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief, letting the tea warm her from the inside out, and giving thanks for the blessing that was being loved by the Lassos.