by Nina Pierce
She shifted her foot, expecting to hit Mr. Jingles, but the cat wasn’t on the bed. That was odd. Perhaps the unusual activity had frightened him. He had always been sensitive to her moods. Rolling away from Peter, Meghan slipped from his embrace, barely rustling him from his slumber. Oh, how the mighty had fallen.
Slipping into a robe, she went in search of the cat. The poor thing was probably curled up on the couch sulking about the lack of attention, but as she reached the bottom of the stairs, Meghan couldn’t recall having let him back in the house. She was usually so conscientious about making sure he was in at night. The poor animal was too old to weather the chill of winter.
Meghan searched through the rooms downstairs, turning on lights as she went. Nothing. Guilt pinched her heart. Peter and his fantasy was the only thing on her mind when she’d padded upstairs hours ago. The poor cat was probably wondering why he’d been abandoned to the elements.
Opening the front door, she whistled, the sound piercing through the night. She watched for him to appear from the bushes next to the house. But when he didn’t materialize from the shadows, Meghan whistled louder, scanning up and down the street, still nothing moved.
Where could he be?
Meghan called for the cat, doing a more thorough search of his usual resting spots, but he was nowhere in the house. She grabbed the box of cat treats on her way through the kitchen. Sliding open the back door, she rattled the box and whistled. Wind shook the birdfeeders and whispered through the trees. Wrapping her robe tighter, she called again. A shadow slid across the deck just past the wedge of light from the kitchen. Mr. Jingles. Meghan alternately made kissing noises and apologized to her cat in a high-pitched voice, hoping to coax him to her. Still he didn’t come. The poor thing was obviously mad.
She stepped into the gardening clogs she kept by the back door and trudged onto the deck. Meghan hated traipsing through the snow to search through the shrubbery beneath the deck, but if that’s what it took to get the old cat safely into the house, then she would. As she moved to the bottom of the stairs, she saw the shadow shift again and whistled to Mr. Jingles. He was being unusually stubborn. Focused on the shrubbery, her foot stepped on a chunk of snow and sent her slipping down the steps. She came down hard on her bottom.
“Meghan?” Peter called from the kitchen door. “Honey, what are you doing out there?’
She stood and turned to him, the scream of terror ripping from her throat.
Chapter 7
“Ayden, quit hogging the bread,” Damon called from the far end of the table.
The dining room of Deirdre’s farmhouse bustled with the noise of a Tilling Sunday dinner.
“So the Patriots look like they’re going to have a good season.” Deirdre spoke to no one in particular. “Could mean they’re Super Bowl contenders.”
“You say that every year, Dee,” Julie chimed. “Pass the salad, will you, please, Doc?”
Doc McCarty sat quietly at the end of the table, next to Meghan’s dad, John. The two of them seemed equally happy to be watching the ordered chaos of the meal.
Alice Tilling leaned close to Meghan. “Honey, I didn’t have a chance to tell you how sorry I am to hear about Mr. Jingles.” She absently picked up the basket of bread and sent it down to Damon. “He was so old, honey. You must have known this would happen soon.” The silk of her hand wrapped around Meghan’s forearm.
“I know.” Meghan pushed the vegetarian lasagna around on her plate. Nothing had looked good to her since she’d found her cat dead on the stairs two nights ago. “But I feel just awful about it. I didn’t know an animal could freeze to death.”
“Are you sure that’s what happened, Meg?” Deirdre served herself another helping of lasagna. It just wasn’t fair that her baby sister could pack in so much food and still stay fit. “Someone mentioned there have been coyotes in town.”
Peter shook his head. “There were no marks. I checked.” He leaned over and kissed his fiancée’s cheek. “Maybe we can talk about something else?”
“Yeah, like how a mechanical engineer has to call in reinforcements to fix his garage door opener.”
Ayden reached out and snagged the roll Peter flung at Deirdre for her wise-ass remark. “Now, now, children, you’ll find yourself on kitchen duty if you don’t quit arguing.”
“Like you were any help, Dee. You just kept pointing and making suggestions and drinking my beer,” Peter said around a mouthful of lasagna.
“You two couldn’t figure out how to fix it?” Julie laughed. “I’ve never known Dee not to be able to jury-rig a piece of machinery.”
“Mr. High and Mighty wanted to do it right. He had out the blasted owner’s manual.” Dee puffed out a laugh of disgust.
“Doc here was quite the mechanic when we were in high school.” John smiled at the doctor, who blushed. “He could make any jalopy purr like a kitten.”
“I worked at the corner gas station, but that was eons ago. I only tinker to keep myself busy on the weekends.” Doc wiggled his fingers in the air. “But a garage door opener is not the same as working on a car engine, now is it?”
“I think it’s something with the wiring, but I’ll be damned if I can figure it out.” Peter picked up his wine glass and leaned back in his chair. “But, it’s at least working most of the time.”
“When it quits working completely, give me another call, and I’ll have it humming.” Dee lifted her wine in a mock toast.
“With wires hanging all over.” Meghan laughed. “No, thanks, Dee. I’ve seen your work in action. Remember the computer fiasco when we opened the shop? It took a computer tech and most of our start-up budget to fix that mistake.”
“Since I can see my sister wants to take a trip down a memory lane I don’t wish to travel…” Deirdre pushed back from the table. “—I’ll just clear these plates and get the apple pies Ayden baked.”
“Oh, I couldn’t eat dessert right now.” Damon patted his flat stomach. “How about a half hour to digest the meal?”
“That sounds good.” John pushed up from the table. “Ayden, why don’t you and I give Gordon a tour of the house?” He laid his hand on Doc’s shoulder. “He hasn’t been here since Alice and I lived here. I’m sure he’d love to see all the renovations you and Dee have done.”
Doc McCarty stood and nodded.
“Sure, John.” Ayden came around the table to stand next to his future father-in-law and leaned in conspiratorially. “But please don’t make me point out again that Dee did most of the design and workmanship. I don’t think my male ego could take that.”
The men laughed.
“Well, I guess I’ll just load up the dishwasher,” Alice said.
“Why don’t you go with Daddy and Ayden?” Meghan kissed her mother’s cheek. “We’ll do the dishes.”
“I haven’t seen the new sunroom,” Peter chimed in. “I heard Dee did all the tiling.” He joined the group and elbowed Ayden.
“Well, if it’s a male bonding time, count me in.” Damon shrugged his shoulders at the three sisters clearing the table.
Meghan watched the group retreat as she stood and gathered dishes, scraping the leftovers and piling silverware.
“Meg, I really am sorry to hear about Mr. Jingles.” Julie filled her hands with the nearly empty serving dishes. “What did you guys do with…” Her voice trailed off.
“His body?”
Julie could only nod.
“We took him to the vet’s. They’ll cremate him, and we’ll bury the ashes in the spring.” Meghan’s voice broke as she walked into the kitchen where Dee was already filling the sink with soapy water. “I’m going to miss him so much.”
“Come on, Meghan, he’s a cat. It’s not like a family member died,” Deidre said.
The sisters looked at one another, the concern reflected in their eyes.
“Daddy looks good today,” Julie managed to squeak out and focused her attention on packaging up the leftovers.
“He’s definitely get
ting better. He’s barely using the cane today,” Deirdre said.
“Daddy’s going to be fine. He’s going to walk us all down the aisle and dance at our wedding receptions.” Meghan squared her shoulders as if saying the words with conviction would make them true.
“Speaking of that, Damon and I set a date.” Julie kept her back to them.
“What?” Incredulous, Deirdre and Meghan yelled at the same time.
She turned around and fisted her hands on her hips. “I’m not getting any younger. I’m starting a family of my own, and I want to be married to Damon when the baby comes.” Her hand shot out to point at the dining room. “Daddy would want us to live our lives. I…”
“What did you say?” Meghan’s voice cut in, quiet, but emphatic.
“Daddy doesn’t want us…”
Meghan’s hand churned the air, trying to clear the confusion. “No, not about Daddy. What did you say about a family?”
Embarrassment flushed up from Julie’s chest to settle in her cheeks, painting them a deep shade of maroon. “We’re pregnant. I didn’t want to announce it yet, but now it’s out there.” The words fell out of her mouth in staccato bursts.
Noisy screams of congratulations erupted from Meghan and Deirdre as they gathered Julie in a celebratory hug.
“We can’t say anything to Mum,” Meghan pleaded.
“Don’t tell your mother what?” Alice stood in the kitchen door, dishes from the table filling her hands.
“Meghan doesn’t want you to know that Peter’s going out of town again,” Deirdre piped in helpfully, shrugging at Meghan.
“He has been traveling an awful lot, sweetie.” Alice set down the dishes and stepped to Meghan, brushing hair out of her eyes. “But I’m sure the promotion has been worth it, or he wouldn’t do it.” Alice returned to the dining room, Julie following on her heels.
“Thanks, Dee.” Meghan’s low tone couldn’t disguise her anger or hurt.
“What?” Deirdre went back to rinsing dishes. “Everyone but you knows what all his trips…” She emphasized the word with air quotes. “…mean.”
Now her sister had gone too far. “Damn it all to hell, Deirdre Tilling. Since Brianna cheated on you and left you high and dry, you’ve been looking for infidelity at every turn.”
“Meghan!”
“Well, you have. And it’s really starting to piss me off! There’s nothing going on with Peter. The end. He loves me, and he sure as hell isn’t looking for someone else. We’re quite happy together, thank you very much!”
John cleared his throat.
Meghan swung around to face Doc McCarty and her father in the door way.
“Girls will be girls, Gordon.” John laughed out the words as he came into the kitchen.
Meghan didn’t know what they had heard, hopefully nothing more than indistinct voices rife with anger.
John continued, ignoring his daughters’ argument. “And the kitchen is the only room left to do.”
“The house is beautiful, Deirdre,” Doc said, a shaky smile lifting the corners of his mouth.
That’s all they needed, to bring someone else into their family business.
“You girls have coffee?” John leaned heavily on his cane, two fingers pressed to the center of his chest. “I could use something to clear away the heartbu…” John lurched forward, his hand lifting in a feeble attempt to grab the counter. His body folded in on itself, falling to the floor with a heavy thud.
* * * *
Crystal knew when to accept fate without questioning the greater purpose, and the ambulance that she had followed to the Bangor Hospital was nothing short of a sign. Though she had no idea who was in the confines of the vehicle, the fact that someone in Peter’s close family circle had been delivered here would make getting to him all that much easier.
He had no idea how resourceful she could be when it came to getting what she wanted.
And Peter Maddock was top priority on her short wish list.
* * * *
“Meghan, you don’t have to fill the paperwork out right now.” Peter took the pen from her shaking hand and folded her into his arms. The family room of the Bangor Hospital ICU didn’t look any different today than it had three months ago. Though the comfortable sofa and wingback chairs were designed to make the space look more like a living room than a hospital waiting area, the distant echo of heart monitors and smell of industrial disinfectant didn’t allow for the illusion to replace the reality.
“Peter, he’s going to be all right, isn’t he?” Meghan buried her face in his shoulder, the silk of her hair tickling his cheek. “How many heart attacks can his body withstand?”
Peter had no idea.
He wondered himself how much fight John Tilling had in him. In the six years he’d known the man, he’d never seen him so weak. It was like the life force was being sucked out of him, and no medicine or doctor seemed to be able to restore the brilliant zest for life that used to light his eyes. It was one of the many things Meghan had gotten from her father. Peter still remembered the first time he’d seen her in the quadrangle at the University of Maine, walking toward him with the classmate who eventually hooked them up. Her eyes were as green as the pool table at the frat, and he couldn’t make his mouth work for the spell they cast on him.
“Hey, Meggie,” Julie called to her quietly. “They said we could go in for five minutes. You know the drill.”
They all knew the drill.
Alice and her daughters would tag team in and out of the ICU, while their men waited and remained ever vigilant.
“Doc McCarty didn’t look too happy with Alice at the house.” Ayden turned from the window.
“That woman can be awfully stubborn when she makes her mind out about something,” Peter said. “And obviously having John here in Bangor was important to her.”
“Doc McCarty doesn’t have privileges here,” Damon said. “He likes to be able to keep an eye on John at the hospital in Delmont.”
“You can’t blame Alice for bringing him here when the docs here seemed to be the only ones who helped over the summer.” Peter got up and began to pace. “This whole thing just sucks.”
“All I can say is, it’s a good thing Julie has her sisters. I’ve never seen such a strong unit as they are when they’re together.” Damon took Ayden’s place at the window.
“Do you ever wish you had that?” Peter asked cautiously.
“What?” Ayden turned and eyed him curiously.
“You know, their sense of family,” Peter said.
Damon looked at him thoughtfully. “I had it once. Didn’t work for me. Cheating mother and alcoholic father didn’t make for a happy home. I’m good calling Julie’s family my own.”
“What about you, Ayden?” Peter kept pushing. “You miss it?”
“Yeah, my family was great. For a cop’s family, my brother and I were pretty well-adjusted.” He lifted a shoulder. “But it’s not like I can bring them back. Let’s face it. Death sucks.” He poured himself a cup of black sludge from the coffee pot. “But I’m not sure where I’d be if I hadn’t hooked up with Deirdre. John and Alice welcomed me before Dee and I got engaged. It’s all good.”
Ayden slapped Peter on the shoulder. “Just be happy you’re not out there on your own, bro.”
That’s exactly what he’d been trying to rectify.
Chapter 8
Peter understood this weekend hadn’t been at all what his fiancée had expected. First Mr. Jingles, then Julie’s announcement, topped off by some disagreement she’d had with Deirdre, and now her father lay in the ICU, fighting for his life yet again.
Meghan dragged herself out of the garage and through the door Peter held open. Stepping up into the breezeway and into the kitchen seemed an almost insurmountable task. At least he’d gotten the garage door to work, and she wasn’t schlepping through the freshly fallen snow.
Another winter storm had rolled in somewhere around midnight, accumulating several inches an hour, making
the forty-minute drive from Bangor a treacherous one. Thank goodness her mother had agreed to ride back to Delmont with them. Alice was tucked in safely at home, Deirdre and Ayden at the farmhouse, and Julie and Damon, because their apartment was so close to the hospital, had agreed to take the first vigil at their father’s side.
Absently, Meghan slipped out of her winter gear and threw it over the back of a dinette chair. Slumping into the seat, she looked like every cell of her body had been drained of energy.
“Honey, can I get you something to eat?” Peter walked across the kitchen and stuck his head in the refrigerator. “We’ve got eggs, bagels, leftover soup.”
“It’s three o’clock in the morning, Peter. How can you think about food?” A weak laugh escaped her lips. “I’m too tired to eat, but help yourself. I’m just going to take a shower to wash off the hospital before falling into bed.” Instead of standing, she laid her forehead on the table. “I should be able to get several hours of sleep before heading over to open the shop.”
Peter abandoned his quest and came up behind her, rubbing at the knots in her shoulders. “I think the good citizens of Delmont would understand if you didn’t open the shop this morning. I have no doubt word has already made it around town that your father’s in the hospital.”
Turning her head to look at him, Meghan’s eyes filled with tears. “Peter…”
“Don’t, Meggie.” Peter knelt beside her and cupped Meghan’s face in his hands, his thumb brushing a tear from her cheek. “Your dad’s a stubborn man. He’s pulled through before, he’ll do it again.”
“I just don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t.” Her voice trailed off.
Peter pulled her into the comfort of his arms, but had no idea what to say to her. Growing up in foster homes didn’t give you the luxury of a permanent family. His only memory of his mother centered around his fourth birthday, party balloons, and a bike. Shortly after that he’d been placed in state custody. His mother had never shaken her drug addiction long enough to regain permanent custody. Though he’d always believed she would come for him, her death when he was ten sealed his fate. He’d come back to Maine in search of the happy memories of his childhood and found love in Meghan.
