The Next Little Thing: A Jackson Falls Mini Page 7

They were finally gone, all of them but Mary and Patrick.

  It had been a wonderful couple of hours, filled with warmth, love, laughter, and a few tears, but Casey had to admit that the gathering had badly depleted her waning resources. She sat in her chair, feet tucked beneath her, hands clutching the cup of Earl Grey her mother-in-law had brought her along with a grilled cheese sandwich. Mary had cut the crusts off the bread, just the way Casey liked them. Considering the size of the MacKenzie clan, she marveled at how well Rob's mother remembered everyone's little quirks. Mary was a godsend. Right now, she was rocking a sleeping Emma. While Casey was immensely grateful for the reprieve, her stomach was grateful for the sandwich.

  Patrick had gone outside a while ago to check out the property, and this was the first time she'd had a moment alone with her mother-in-law. Mary MacKenzie, with her maternal warmth and wisdom, was the closest thing she had to a mother. Casey had lost her own mother when she was fifteen, and after she married Danny, Mary had opened her arms to both of them, treating them like her own children. Sometimes she thought Rob took his mother for granted. But then, he'd never been faced with that kind of loss. Casey knew how fragile life could be; she'd certainly endured enough loss in her life. She adored Mary MacKenzie, and the feeling was mutual. When she married Rob two years ago, it had been a wonderful bonus, her longtime dear friend becoming her mother-in-law. Mary had always been family, but now it was official. "You will stay the night, won't you?" she said.

  "I'm not sure how that hard-headed son of mine will feel about that. It seems he's got himself in some kind of snit. What's that all about?"

  Casey took a sip of Earl Grey. "So I'm not imagining it? I honestly have no idea. He hasn't said a word to me about it, but something's up with him." She idly rubbed her thumb back and forth over the violets that circled the rim of her teacup. "Please don't let that stop you. I want you here. If the guest room bed isn't set up yet, Rob and Patrick can put it together in five minutes."

  She had no clue where her husband had disappeared to. Generally the life of the party, he'd been unnaturally subdued all afternoon. At various points during the gathering, she'd caught every one of his sisters looking at him speculatively. But as far as she could tell, nobody had said anything. He'd spent most of the time hovering over her and Emma like a mother bird with a nest of babies. Until finally, when she couldn't take it any longer, she'd sent him out to look for Paige. Whether or not he found her was anyone's guess, since he hadn't come back.

  "Is everything all right between the two of you?" Mary said.

  "As far as I know, it is. But it's not like him to be this quiet."

  "Well, you know him. Whatever it is, he'll stew over it until it boils over, and then he'll spill his guts. He was that way when he was eight, and he's still that way, thirty years later."

  It was a pretty accurate description of her husband. Still, in her post-partum state, with hormones zinging right and left, she couldn't help her rampant paranoia. He'd been himself right up until Emma was born, and then the aliens had moved in and taken over his body. Since she couldn't imagine it was Emma who'd offended him, it had to be her. If it was her, didn't she have a right to know why? Of course, Mary was right. Rob would brood over whatever was eating at him, build up a head of steam, and then it would erupt in one of his epic meltdowns.

  The front door opened and, shadowed by his sixteen-year-old daughter, the husband in question came into the house. "Speak of the devil," his mother muttered.

  He raised his eyebrows. "What?"

  "Nothing. Your wife's been looking for you, that's all."

  His gaze swung in Casey's direction, and she saw concern in those green eyes. "Babe? Is everything okay?"

  "Everything's fine. Where were you?"

  "I took a little drive, and then I sat on the porch swing with Paige. The crowd was starting to get to me. I'm not in a very sociable mood today. I'm sorry."

  "There's no need to apologize. Paige, come here and sit with me. I've spent the last two hours wondering where you were."

  "I think Dad's mood is contagious." Paige crossed the room and perched on the arm of her chair. "I snuck out before you got here. I couldn't deal with all those people. Not two days in a row."

  She carefully studied her stepdaughter's face. "And that's all there is to it?"

  "Yesterday was a zoo." Paige kept her face deliberately blank. "I had to get away from the crowd. That's all."

  And Mikey, Casey thought. Especially Mikey. Precisely what had happened between her stepdaughter and her favorite nephew was none of her business, but it had blasted a hole in Paige's heart, and they'd spent the last six months avoiding each other. She suspected that his presence here today had been the primary contributing factor in Paige's disappearance. Love, especially at such a young age, could be so painful. She suspected her stepdaughter had jumped into love too quickly, and with her whole heart. Young girls had a way of doing that. It was what she'd done with Danny; she'd married him three days after they met. Looking back, it was hard to believe she'd been so young. And so naïve.

  But that was then, and this was now. "So," she said, "I hear you organized this whole move. All by yourself."

  Her stepdaughter shrugged. "No big deal. Trish helped me yesterday. Everybody helped."

  "But you're the one who planned it and put it all together."

  "I just thought it would be easier for you. You know, not having to deal with a new baby and moving, all at the same time."

  Mary said, "That was thoughtful of you, Paige. You have a big heart, like your father."

  Paige squirmed uncomfortably on the chair arm. She wasn't used to effusive praise, and she didn't know how to deal with it.

  "I didn't mean to put you on the spot," Casey said. "I just wanted you to know I appreciate what you did. All the effort that went into it. And I wanted to tell you how proud I am to be able to call you my stepdaughter." She set down her teacup and opened her arms. "Come give me a hug."

  Paige flushed bright red, but her hug was warm and sincere. And Casey, still loaded with pregnancy hormones, felt her eyes begin to water.

  "I have to go," Paige said. "Leroy's been shut in his crate for hours. I need to walk him."

  Paige's little mixed-breed dog had quickly established his place in the family. "Of course," she said. "You should let him loose when you come back. There's no need for him to be cooped up, now that everyone's gone."

  Paige scooted up the stairs to her room. "She's a good girl," Mary observed. "A little prickly on the outside, but a heart as big as all outdoors on the inside."

  "It was rough at first," she said. "But we always had faith in her. I think that made all the difference."

  Rob kicked off his shoes and crossed the room. Kneeling in front of his wife, he touched her cheek and said, "You look wiped out."

  "I'm tired," she said. "I'll be fine. You know me. Tough as an old mule."

  "You just gave birth. You need some down time. It was probably a bad idea, this whole get-together. It was too much for you."

  "Don't be ridiculous. I was thrilled to see everyone."

  "So was I. But not at your expense. Come on. I'm taking you upstairs so you can nap for a while."

  "I'll sleep tonight. I'm visiting with your mother right now."

  "She'll still be here when you wake up." He stood, bent over her, and with no effort at all, scooped her up into his arms as though she weighed nothing.

  Her mouth fell open. "What the hell do you think you're you doing, MacKenzie?"

  "I told you. I'm taking you upstairs for a nap."

  "But, the baby—"

  "My mother will watch the baby. She's not exactly clueless when it comes to kids. She raised nine of ‘em."

  "Put me down, for God's sake. I'm capable of walking. I gave birth, I'm not an invalid."

  "Complaints, complaints. Ma, I'll be back down in a few minutes."

  "Take your time," his mother said. "Emma and I are just fine."

  Casey sai
d, "If you drop me going up those stairs, Flash, I swear to God I'll—"

  "Better hold on tight, then."

  She wound her arms more tightly around his neck, just in case. "This is ridiculous," she said weakly, as he started up the oak staircase.

  "Humor me, Fiore. I never got to carry you over the threshold. Let me have my moment of glory."

  She held on for dear life as he climbed the stairs with steadfast determination. Resting her head against his shoulder, she breathed in his scent, that wonderful scent that belonged to no other man on the planet. She closed her eyes and said, "Are you still in love with me?"

  "What kind of batshit crazy question is that? Have they been spiking your orange juice at the hospital?"

  "It's not crazy. The way you've been acting—"

  "Hush your mouth, woman, or I'll take you over my knee and spank you."

  She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not a little girl," she said.

  "No." He nudged open the bedroom door with his knee, crossed the room, and gently lowered her to the bed. Shadows from the maple tree outside the window danced in delightful patterns across the wall. "You're definitely not a little girl."

  "So why are you treating me like one?"

  He pulled off her left shoe, then her right, and dropped them in an untidy pile on the floor. "When you argue with me," he said, draping a blanket over her, "I have to straighten you out. It's my duty as your husband."

  She opened her mouth to straighten him out, but realized she was too tired to argue. Her eyelids fluttered closed and, fighting sleep, she forced them back open. Looking into his eyes, she said, "I love you. With all my heart."

  He brought two fingertips to his lips, kissed them, then pressed them to her lips. "Sleep," he said.

  "If the baby gets hungry—"

  "I'll wake you. The baby's fine."

  "Lie down with me? Just for a little bit?"

  Those green eyes of his softened. He dropped one bony hip to the mattress, scrabbled over to where she lay, and drew her into his arms. His breath warm against her neck, he whispered, "Sleep."

  And she slept.

  * * *

  When she awoke, she was alone. Shadows still danced on the wall, but their placement told her that a couple of hours had passed. Rob had stayed with her until she fell asleep, but at some point, he'd left. The smell of something wonderful cooking wended its way up the stairs, and she said a silent prayer of thanks for Mary MacKenzie.

  Rob and his dad were in the living room, watching the evening news. She bypassed them, detouring through the dining room to the kitchen. When she tiptoed into the room, Mary lit up. "I was just about to send Paige up to wake you," she said. "Dinner'll be ready in a few minutes. I just changed the baby. I thought you'd want to feed her first."

  Mary had whipped up quite a meal—roast chicken with mashed potatoes and homemade gravy, fresh carrots, yeast rolls. Simple, old-fashioned home cooking that made Casey's mouth water. But when Emma had been fed and the rest of the family was finally at the table, she found it difficult to eat. Rob was a dark, silent presence, speaking only when asked a question. Even then, his answers were curt and brief. The vibrations he was broadcasting were odd, dark. His mood colored the entire meal, and as his silence built, so did her panic, until her stomach felt bloated and hard and miserable. She picked at her food, the déjà vu so strong she could almost taste it. This was too reminiscent of the time, early in their marriage, when Danny had gone silent, suddenly and without explanation. He, too, had still held her in his arms while she slept. But during their waking hours, he'd hidden behind an invisible wall so solid she'd been unable to scale it. She'd been so young then, just twenty-two years old. Young and naïve and desperately in love, too afraid to confront her husband for fear of what she might learn. Instead, she had stewed and fretted for months. And when the truth finally came out, when she finally discovered the reason for his silence—that he'd cheated on her—it had nearly destroyed their marriage.

  Not that Rob would cheat on her, not in a million years. He wasn't Danny. But this was frightening nevertheless, because Rob never kept anything from her. They shared their feelings with nauseating regularity. Although that wasn't precisely true, now that she thought about it. Her husband labored under the misconception that, lacking the facial features and the body of a god, he was somehow inferior to her first husband. He'd spent the first sixteen months of their marriage believing, despite evidence to the contrary, that Danny still took first place in her heart and that he came in a poor second. He hadn't told her this because he was terrified he'd lose her if he gave voice to his inner fears. It had taken a massive blow-up, after he reached boiling point, before they'd succeeded in resolving that little issue.

  She'd made mistakes in her first marriage. A lot of mistakes. That didn't mean she had to keep repeating them. Life was a learning experience, and marriage was a challenge, a compromise, a duel between two strong egos that didn't always agree. She'd given Danny everything he asked for, but she'd forgotten that she had needs as well. Their marriage had suffered greatly from a lack of communication. Not so this marriage, because she didn't intend to repeat her mistakes. She wasn't that sweet, naïve young girl any longer. She was a grown woman, with two children to protect. Emma was dependent on her parents for her very survival; and Paige might be sixteen, and not Casey's biological child, but love had nothing to do with biology, and the girl still needed a mother's firm but gentle hand. This kind of tension wasn't good for her, for the baby, for Paige. Whatever was wrong with Rob, they would get through it together. Just like they always had.

  He couldn't avoid talking about it forever. She wouldn't let that happen. As soon as she could get him alone, she was going to hammer at him until he gave her an answer that made sense.

  Rob

  His parents were spending the night. While his mother cleared the dinner table, Casey had made up the guest bed with fresh linens. Now, the two women were in the kitchen, talking in hushed voices, their words punctuated by the clinking of plates and the rattle of flatware. Casey had left him in charge of Emma, and he sat in the Boston rocker, his little miracle in his arms, and rocked her while his dad watched an old rerun of Gunsmoke.

  Upstairs, Paige was playing M.C. Hammer at an almost acceptable volume. He'd tried his damnedest to broaden her musical horizons since she'd come to live with them nine months ago. He'd had moderate success, especially after she started singing with Luke's band, although she still rolled her eyes every time he mentioned bowing at the altar of Smokey Robinson. Ungrateful little twit. Her mother had obviously allowed her to wander down the wrong path. He would start Emma off right. Raise her, right from birth, to appreciate the good stuff. There'd be no rap music for his little Emmy Lou Who. She would learn her daddy's musical tastes, or he'd die trying.

  The baby was asleep in his arms, her ridiculously long eyelashes casting shadows on alabaster skin. A tiny vein throbbed in her temple. He pressed his mouth to her head, pale downy hair soft against his lips. Picked up her hand, examined her fingers with their minuscule fingernails. In her sleep, she curled a tiny fist around his forefinger, and his heart melted into a quivering pile of goo.

  Across the room, his dad said, "Pretty amazing, isn't it?"

  Too choked up to answer, he just nodded his head.

  Patrick picked up the television remote, clicked the off button, and the screen went blank. "It never stops being amazing," he said. "We had nine babies, and every one of you was a miracle. That first time they wrap their fingers around yours. That first smile. The first time they call you Daddy. Life doesn't get any better than that."

  He blinked to clear his vision. "I know. I know how blessed I am."

  "You want to talk about it?"

  "It's just…a little overwhelming. Did you ever feel that way?"

  "Every damn time. They're so small and defenseless. Completely dependent on you. Every time your mother gave birth, I held the baby in my arms, gave your mom a kiss, and walked directly
to the nearest pub to drink myself into oblivion."

  "Dad, it was incredible. Being there. Watching it happen. It changes you. It makes you want to be a better person."

  "Nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong with the person you already are."

  Casey came to the archway that separated kitchen from living room. She stood there, dish towel in hand, studying him and their new daughter. He gave her a weak grin. After a moment, she returned it and went back to the kitchen.

  "You’ve got yourself a good woman there," his dad observed.

  "They don’t make 'em any better. Although Mom comes close."

  "Let me give you a little advice. She's vulnerable right now. She just gave birth. She's got all these emotions rolling around, all stirred up with out-of-control hormones. She needs your support."

  "I know."

  "Good. Then don’t go screwing it up."

  And Patrick clicked the television back on.

  * * *

  While Casey got his parents settled for the night, he looked in on Paige, made sure her homework was done and her clothes for tomorrow were set out and ready. His daughter wasn't a morning person, and although he might be a geezer, he hadn't yet forgotten the sheer hell that was high school. She wouldn't need much of an excuse to stay home tomorrow, especially in light of the fact that she'd not only moved over the weekend, but also had a new baby sister. It was a lot for a teenager to take in, especially one who'd lost her mother and then been sent here to this tiny town at the end of nowhere to spend the rest of her growing-up years with strangers.

  She was strumming her guitar when he knocked on the door. "Enter," she said.

  He opened the door and poked his head into the room. "Homework done?"

  His daughter scowled, looking so much like him that it was terrifying. "Fricking algebra. It's done, but there's blood smeared all over the papers."

  "It’s supposed to strengthen your mind. Or something like that."

  "Yeah, well, I think it blew all my circuits."

  "Two more years. You can survive two more years."