First Comes Love

by Heather Heyford

  Kerry took a step closer, so close she had to tilt her head to look up at him. “Did I ask for your help? I’ve been taking care of myself and my kids for years. I don’t need a man to do it for me!”

  Alex held out his hands. “Okay. Fine. Message received loud and clear.” He would have said a lot more, but Chloé and Shay were watching. Instead, he backed up until he bumped into the door, snatched his keys from the spot that less than an hour ago he’d thought of as his, and left.

  Striding down the path to where his car was parked, his hands jammed in his pockets, he glanced over his shoulder, hoping Kerry would come after him. But by the time he was buckled in, a watchful eye still on the house, she still hadn’t come. Even when he got to the end of the lane and looked in his rearview, all he saw was the yellow light in the windows of the cozy, familial kitchen.

  He drove off alone as all around him, darkness fell.

  * * *

  “Why’d you do that?” Chloé asked Kerry, after Alex had gone.

  “Do what?” Kerry snatched another shirt from the laundry basket and attempted to fold it, but when she dropped it onto the couch cushion it landed messier than before.

  “Yell at Coach Walker.”

  “I didn’t yell at him.” She shook a pair of jeans in the air with a loud crack.

  “Yes, you did.”

  “No, I didn’t. I simply reminded him that we’re a self-contained, fully functioning family unit that doesn’t need any interference from the outside. Have I ever failed you before? Was there ever a time when we didn’t have a roof over our heads?”

  Chloé got up from the table and walked into the living room. “No, but—”

  “Food to eat?”

  “No.”

  “I admit, things haven’t always been perfect,” Kerry said, hating the rising hysteria in her voice. “Maybe I don’t know how to install a dishwasher or what questions to ask the roofers for an estimate, and maybe the dog doesn’t get walked as often as he should. But what parent is perfect, I ask you?”

  “Mom,” warned Shay.

  “No one, that’s who. We just do the best we can using what we’ve got. Luckily for us, I have a marketable skill. The farmhouse. A brother willing to create a place for me at his firm—”

  “Mom,” said Shay. “Stop it. You’re scaring Chloé.”

  “I am not,” Kerry said shrilly. “Are you scared, Chloé?”

  Chloé, looking pale, swallowed.

  “Even if she’s not, you’re going to wake Ella,” said Shay.

  Kerry’s bottom plopped onto the couch. She balled up the shirt she’d been wrestling with and tossed it across the room. Then she dropped her elbow on her hand. “Ow,” she cried, forgetting it was bruised from when she’d banged it against the wall dragging a heavy chair up the steps the day before.

  Gingerly, Chloé lowered herself beside her at an angle. “Why are you picking on Coach Walker? What’d he do?”

  Why, indeed. What was wrong with her?

  “All he did was walk Hobo,” she added, her forehead wrinkled in a frown.

  On Kerry’s other side, Shay slid her foot beneath her so that now both girls flanked her.

  “You’re right.”

  “Then how come you’re so mad?” asked Chloé.

  Kerry whisked away a tear.

  “I’m scared, girls.” Her lower lip trembled.

  “Scared of what?”

  She brushed some imaginary lint off her jeans. They were too young for this. She couldn’t dump her fear of failure on them. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

  “Well,” she said shakily, “just scared, you know. Everyone gets scared sometimes.” This was untrodden ground. She had never admitted any sort of weakness to her daughters before.

  She was a crappy mom.

  Chloé reached her little arms around Kerry and buried her head in her shoulder. “Don’t be scared, Mom. You’ve got us. We’ll take care of you.”

  That was it. Kerry hid her face in her hands, but she couldn’t hide the sound of her sobbing.

  Shay dashed to the kitchen and came back holding out a tissue, which Kerry took and blew her nose into. “It’s not your job to take care of me.”

  Shay sat down again, and this time, both girls wrapped their arms around Kerry. “It doesn’t matter whose job it is. So what? What if we feel like taking care of you sometimes?”

  When had her children become so wise?

  For a terrifying minute, Kerry thought her sobs might never stop. She’d been strong for so long. She didn’t even admit her doubts and apprehensions to her own mother. After all, Rose was a dynamo in her own right, having raised not three but four children. Yes, she had Kerry’s father by her side, but he wasn’t the easiest man to live with.

  But Kerry was so tired. And after all, she was only human.

  She dabbed her eyes with the crumpled tissue. “I’m okay,” she said. “I’ll be all right.” Just admitting she was overwhelmed made her feel lighter.

  “We know you will,” said Chloé, giving her another squeeze that almost started her going again.

  “Honest. I’m fine,” she said, drying her eyes yet again, forcing a small laugh. “I just lost it there for a minute.”

  Chloé sat back on the couch. “You hurt Coach Walker’s feelings,” she said. “I could tell by his face.”

  That’s right. Alex. He had no one to comfort him.

  “You should call him and apologize.”

  Kerry laughed again, authentically this time. “That sounds just like something I would say to you.”

  “Where do you think we got it from?” asked Shay, attempting her own smile.

  The question was, where had she gotten these amazing. . . resilient . . . kind kids?

  Kerry got to her feet, turning to straighten the afghan on the back of the couch.

  “You know what?” she asked, wiping her tear-stained hands on her seat. “You’re right. I will call him. Just as soon as I finish this laundry and sweep the kitchen and pack up my work bag for tomorrow morning and . . .”

  Chloé stood on spindly legs. “I only got one more chapter to go. Think I’ll read it in bed.”

  “I’ll finish folding clothes for you and carry them upstairs,” said Shay, reaching into the laundry basket.

  Kerry pressed her lips together, reached around Shay’s shoulder, and grabbed Chloé’s shirtsleeve before she got away, almost knocking her off balance in the process. She folded her daughters into her embrace. “I love you guys,” she mumbled into their hair. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “We love you, too,” they murmured.

  * * *

  Alex was nursing a glass of pinot noir when Kerry’s name lit up his phone screen.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi.”

  Pause.

  “This is your controlling, uptight, asshole girlfriend.”

  “I thought I recognized that voice.”

  “The girls said I needed to apologize to you.”

  Pause.

  “Okay. Is that the only reason you called me?”

  “No.”

  “Then why else?”

  “Because I thought I should apologize, too.”

  Alex looked up at the night sky and exhaled. “I was only trying to help you out. Not just you, the dog.”

  “I know. You were right and I was wrong. It’s just that it’s hard for me to accept help. Anyone’s help. Not just yours. I’ve been trying to prove to myself that I can do it all on my own for so long, I don’t know how to do it any other way.”

  Another pause.

  Alex sipped his wine. “Do you think you could try?”

  “I could try.”

  “Try to try?”

  She giggled. “Yes. Try to try.”

  “Well, I guess that’s all I can ask for.”

  “Then I will.” She sniffed. “That’s what I intend to do.”

  Alex started. “Were you—”

  “No. Just aller
gies.”

  He relaxed again. Not that he believed her. But whatever tears she’d shed must have acted as a release valve.

  “I’m warning you, once I put my intention on something, it usually works.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “So, I hope you’re ready for things to change.”

  Pause.

  “All I can do is try,” he said.

  “Okay, then. It’s settled. We’re both going to try.”

  Alex smiled and looked in to his glass, seeing not the bloodred wine but Kerry’s face, relieved that now, he would be able to sleep that night after all.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  The next week, when Alex was absentmindedly yanking out the weeds around the garage on his way into the house, he used his elbow to polish a circle in a grimy window and glimpsed something inside. He leaned closer, cupping his hands around his eyes to get a better look.

  He waited until after supper, while the kids splashed in the pool and Hobo lay at his feet, tired from his run, to bring it up.

  “How often does the meadow need to be cut?”

  She followed his gaze to the waist-high swath of native grasses and wildflowers.

  “You’re asking me?”

  “I could ask your father, but you’re sitting right next to me.”

  “Now that you mention it, back in the spring Dad told me to remind him to hire someone to mow it, come fall. His new house doesn’t have the view of the meadow. Plus, I have a sneaking suspicion his memory isn’t what it used to be.”

  “That riding mower in the garage,” he started out. “When was the last time it saw action?”

  “I’ve never been on it, if that’s what you’re asking. Don’t know the first thing about lawn tractors. Before that, I don’t know. I haven’t been here.”

  “Is the garage locked? I’d like to check it out. That is, if it’s okay with you.”

  Kerry opened her mouth to object, then remembered their pact. “I, ah, um . . .”

  He lifted a brow. “Tell you what. I’ll mow in whatever pattern you want. Horizontal, vertical, plaid . . .”

  “The garage is unlocked. Have at it.”

  Within minutes, he had the tractor gassed up and was driving out to mow the meadow, as if the property belonged to him and he had some stake in its upkeep.

  Awesome. The O’Hearn property was like his rental on steroids—spacious, serene.

  In the distance, Kerry waved to him.

  He liked being out here, where he could keep an eye on her and her brood, eavesdropping on the frequent yelps of laughter and occasional howl of complaint.

  It was dusk when he putt-putted back to the garage, full of satisfaction.

  Kerry waltzed over with Ella on her hip and a lazy grin on her face. She sneezed. “Look at you.” She laughed, picking a straw out of his hair. “You’re covered in grass clippings and pollen.”

  He brushed his hands against the sides of his threadbare jeans with the hole in the thigh where a patch of hairy leg peeked through. “Man’s work,” he said, feeling even more macho in her Madonna like presence.

  “I have to admit, letting go feels very freeing. One less thing for me—and my dad—to worry about.”

  “I wanted to do it,” said Alex. All he had ever wanted was to be of help. Not for the accolades. Because it made him feel like a part of something bigger. Like he belonged. Now he soaked up her appreciation like an old, dried-up sponge.

  Kerry, Ella in her arms, watched until he finished tinkering with the machine and put it away. When he came out of the garage, without warning Ella reached for him.

  “Awex.”

  It was the first time Ella had ever uttered his name. He almost melted into his boots. Without thinking, he lifted his hands to take her into his arms. That’s when he saw the grease stains, smelled the gasoline and engine oil and sweat. His eyes flew to Kerry’s in a silent plea for her consent.

  Without a word, Kerry’s body angled sideways to ease the transition.

  He gathered the child into his arms. “Hey, Ella,” he cooed softly. There, on a broken concrete slab outside the garage in the summer twilight, with the humming of insects in the background, a chubby hand reached up and touched the stubble on his chin with the delicacy of butterfly wings. Her eyelashes were pale and fine as a spider web.

  That he had once dangled this child by the arm and sprayed her with a garden hose was inconceivable. That was before he’d gotten to know her as the infinitely precious creature she was.

  Kerry moved into them, ignoring his sweat-soaked shirt. She gazed up at his dirt-speckled face, her eyes sparkling wetly, and brushed his lips with hers.

  When the kiss ended, Alex slung his free arm over Kerry’s shoulder and the three of them slowly ascended the porch steps as the sun set behind them.

  * * *

  In the coming weeks, Alex took the girls for walks through the vineyards and showed them how the grapes were growing fatter and turning from green to purple, and drove to town to pick up ice cream or laundry detergent—whatever Kerry needed.

  He and Kerry made furtive love every chance they got. But Kerry always woke him up before it got too late. She made it clear she couldn’t afford to have one of the kids wander into the living room or backyard in the middle of the night and find him there.

  One evening, after Ella was in bed when they were sitting on the porch talking, Shay ran to Kerry with her phone in her hand to ask permission to go over to a friend’s house the following night.

  “She’s changed a lot this summer,” said Alex as they watched her skip away, chattering animatedly into her phone.

  “It’s such a relief to know she’ll be going back to school having friends this year.”

  “Do you ever let her babysit?”

  “No,” she replied sharply. “We live too far out. I’d worry too much.”

  “She’ll be a teenager, right?” Lately, all Shay could talk about was her birthday. “How old is old enough?”

  Kerry sighed. “I know. I just hate thinking about it.”

  “She’s not going to be a little girl forever.” Alex measured his words. “I’m not saying I don’t like coming over here, but I wouldn’t mind taking you out on a real date once in a while. Your parents are right next door. You could even ask one of them to drop by unannounced, to, say, borrow a cup of salt.”

  Kerry chuckled. “First person in history to need an emergency cup of salt.”

  “Sugar. Whatever. Has Shay ever asked if she could babysit her sisters?”

  “Last year, all the time. She really resented being in day care.”

  “I remember,” said Alex, peering out over the vineyards. Never before had he actually spent a summer watching a crop ripen before his very eyes. It would be a couple of years before the wine from this year’s fruit was ready to drink, but he had already made a mental note to mark his calendar.

  “You do?”

  “It’s hardly a secret.”

  Kerry rubbed at a torn cuticle.

  “What are you going to do with her this year?”

  She shrugged. “I have no choice. She’ll be too old for the Community Center. She’ll have to come home from school on the bus. I’ll ask my parents to check on her from time to time.”

  The system was forcing change on Kerry, whether she was ready or not.

  “In that case, what do you think about giving her some practice? We could start out slow. Say, leave for an hour. Then work our way up to two. Don’t get me wrong. The girls are amazing. Call me selfish, but I want you all to myself now and then, no”—he rubbed her bare foot with his—“interruptions.”

  Following a glance behind him through the window where Chloé lay on the couch reading, he leaned over and kissed her, letting his fingertip trail along the edge of her halter top. “Have I told you lately that I love you?” he murmured.

  Kerry shivered and felt her nipples tighten. “Not since this morning, when you were whispering naughty things to me
on the phone, knowing full well I was on my way into a deposition.”

  He gave her a wolfish grin. “And that there’s no other woman who can make me feel like you do?”

  “You may have mentioned it a couple hundred times.”

  “Think of it, Ker. You and me, at that out-of-the-way corner table at Ruddock’s. No spilled sodas, no endless arguing over whether or not catsup is a vegetable . . .”

  “Mmn,” said Kerry, smiling and ducking her chin where he tickled her neck. “You make a good case.”

  In the end, Alex won.

  Shay considered it a win for her, too. She was secretly thrilled to occasionally be able to complain to Mia and Addison with a heavy sigh that she “had to babysit.”

  * * *

  One evening in late July, when Alex pulled in to the farmhouse, Shay came running out to meet his car.

  “Can you come to my birthday party?” she panted.

  “Party?” he asked, retrieving a bag of groceries from the backseat. “What party?”

  “It’s at Grandma and Grandpa’s house,” Shay said as they walked to the house. “Grandma’s making my favorite supper, lasagna, and everybody’s going to be there.”

  With Shay glued to his side, Alex gazed up to the porch, where Kerry stood with her hand resting on the railing.

  “Did you check with your mom?” He could tell by Kerry’s wary expression she hadn’t.

  “Mom, can Coach Walker come to my party? Please? He has to. It won’t be any fun without him.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Alex had spent the first twenty years of his life learning how to fend for himself and the second twenty witnessing the most depraved acts human beings could inflict on one another. Not much intimidated him. But being impressed was different than being intimidated, and there were two things that impressed him: strong families and fine wine.

  The tight-knit O’Hearn clan was the closest thing wine country had to royalty. Walking onto their classy, pergola-covered patio to shake hands with Kerry’s privileged older brothers and regal father, he felt like a commoner invited to the palace, wary of placing a foot wrong.

  But it was clear that Rose was the real power behind the throne, and she wouldn’t tolerate anything less than perfect hospitality on the part of her progeny. As she served him another helping of lasagna, Alex felt his shoulders relaxing.