“Well, there’s no rush finding a place, Mom.” Amber could see relief wash over her mother’s face.
Once inside, Amber found Dylan on the couch. A laptop reflected a blue light on his face, and headphones covered his ears as he zoned out.
“Hey, Dylan, what are you up to?” she asked as she plopped down next to him.
He lifted one side of the headphones and gave her a half-smile. “Nothing much. Just playing a game on here.”
Amber nestled up closer to him as she rested her head on his shoulder. “So, how was school? I know we talked a little at the diner.”
“It was fine.”
“Come on, Dylan. I know it’s hard, honey.”
Dylan sighed and trained his eyes on the glowing screen of the laptop. He was trying his hardest to tune her out.
“Dylan…” Amber nudged him softly.
“Mom, it was fine.” There was no point in forcing him to talk to her; he would open up when he was ready to.
“Okay, okay. Just remember, I’m here if you ever want to talk about it,” she said, before kissing his cheek. Her little boy was quickly becoming a young man—a complicated, awkward young man. She wished Peter were here. Amber had thought more about him than she had in awhile, not that he didn’t enter her mind daily, but she tried not to dwell on his death.
Amber rose off the couch slowly. She needed to shower and wash away the sweat and smell of food that clung to her. She planned on writing in her journal. It was how she got through her grief, and it helped her organize the jumbled emotions in her mind. Before Peter died, Amber had written for fun. She had started blogging when it had become all the rage, and she’d found she was quite good at it and could actually make a little money doing at it. Then, when her world had grown dark, she found solace in writing. Amber found her voice when she wrote—the words she was too afraid to actually say, the feelings she didn’t want to really confront. Now she had gotten into a routine of writing before bed; it helped her cope with the highs and lows of the day.
“Are you hungry?” Amber asked as she started for the kitchen.
Dylan shook his head. “Grandpa and I had some soup. I’m good, thanks.”
“Okay, well, I’m going to go check on Grandpa and go shower. You going to go to bed soon?”
Dylan nodded again. “Hey, Mom…”
Amber turned back around and looked at him. “Yeah?”
“Is Grandpa going to die?” His young face was creased with worry.
Amber sat next to Dylan and hugged him from the side. “I don’t know, sweetie. But it’s a good thing we are here.”
“It’s just terrible, I mean, to move back because someone is dying.”
Amber understood what he meant. It was awful to think she could have moved back to Birch Valley after Peter died and spent more time with her parents. But she had been crippled with grief, and she hadn’t wanted to uproot Dylan, as he had been struggling with his own sadness.
“I know, but we’re here now, and let’s just make the most of whatever time we have.”
Dylan looked down. “Mom, I miss Dad.”
Amber squeezed him tightly. “I do too, sweetie.” She fought back the tears that were threatening to spill.
“Mom…”
“Yes?” Amber waited for Dylan to speak as she continued to hold him. She relished this moment, sad as it was, because as Dylan got older, he wanted less to do with her, where she only to spend more time with him. He was her only child, and all that she had left of Peter.
Dylan moved away from her, and he looked at her sheepishly. “Do you think we might ever see that Mr. O’Brien guy again?”
There it was. She had sort of been curious if her son was going to ask about Patrick. Amber had thought of him more than a couple of times and knew it was only a matter of time before they would run into each other again. She would jump that bridge when she crossed it.
But her mind was filled with a lot of other worries. For starters, they’d barely arrived and were trying to get somewhat settled, all while learning that her father wasn’t just a little sick, but had cancer. Amber was still trying to process the fact that her father might die. She was a little more than upset that her parents hadn’t shared his diagnosis with her until after she arrived. Things were a little strained in the house because of it, and that was partially why she brought up moving into a rental. Besides, she and Dylan couldn’t live in her parents’ house forever.
“You know he lives here in town. I’m sure we are bound to run into him again.”
“He seemed really cool.”
Amber agreed that he did, but he was also a large slice of gorgeous too. She couldn’t help but notice that he had only gotten more handsome since she had left. How was that even possible? When he had climbed out of his SUV, she had forgotten how tall he was, and that threw her a little off guard. If she hadn’t been so panicked about the trailer tire, she could have enjoyed the view a little more. There would probably be more time for that in the future, but for now she needed to figure things out on the home front.
“Well, I’m going to hop in the shower. You better get ready for bed soon,” Amber ordered softly, giving Dylan a peck on top of his shaggy brown hair as she got up from the couch.
On her way to the bathroom, she caught a glimpse of her parents in their bedroom, which neighbored hers. She could hear the soft whispers and could make out the outline of her father in their bed. Amber paused briefly and tried to listen, but their tones were hushed and too muted for her to make out anything. She continued to the bathroom and readied herself for a quick shower. Her mind was already spinning with everything she planned to journal about.
***
Patrick
The week drifted by, fairly easy and uneventful. Patrick was out in his yard Friday evening mowing the thick carpet of overgrown grass. He enjoyed the task quite a bit, as his riding lawnmower hummed and the scent of freshly shorn grass pervaded the air. He also just loved being outside. Patrick actually liked being outdoors far more than anyone realized. They just assumed that he was all books and numbers, but he liked getting his hands dirty. He looked forward to going out on job sites with Daniel, and appreciated seeing a project become complete. Patrick drove the mower another lap. The grass looked immaculate. The small bit of property was beautifully landscaped and was, in a way, a reflection of how Patrick maintained his business.
After showering, Patrick started to make dinner. He placed a frozen pizza into the oven, which wasn’t the smartest idea considering how terribly warm it was in the house. He didn’t feel cooking, and the boys loved pizza, which was well worth the sacrifice.
“Daddy, can we watch this movie?” Finn held up a plastic DVD case with a large dog on the cover. Fridays had unofficially become movie night, a tradition they’d started only a year earlier, where they would eat popcorn and watch any movie the boys could agree on. Patrick loved it and hoped it would be something they would continue to do for years to come.
“Yeah, I want to see that one with the big doggy on it, Daddy,” Connor added as he tugged on Patrick’s leg.
“Well, let’s eat some pizza and then we can watch that movie.” Patrick smiled at his two sons, who were looking up at him with hopeful blue eyes.
Both boys cheered and ran off toward the living room. He didn’t have the heart to tell them he had barely put the pizza in, so they still had nearly thirty minutes until they could start the movie. Patrick set about preparing a small salad to accompany the pizza. He also poured some milk for Connor and Finn, right as they raced back inside the kitchen.
“Is it movie time yet?” Connor whined.
“Almost. Let’s go wash up and eat.” Patrick ushered the boys to the sink and assisted them with washing their hands. Each boy took a turn standing on a stool so they could reach the sink. There was more splashing and playing with the soap than actual washing, but Patrick figured it was better than nothing.
Once they were as clean as they were going to get, Fi
nn and Connor ran to their seats and watched as Patrick brought over their favorite overly colorful plastic plates. Patrick seated himself across from them and nursed a beer as he chewed on the frozen pizza. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying as a pizza from Steve-O’s, but it filled the void.
The twins picked at the cheesy pizza and ate some of the salad. After getting the boys into the bath and into their pajamas, they finally nestled themselves on the couch and in front of the large TV. Patrick had a boy tucked on either side, each snuggled close with their fleece blankets. He was overheated; their small bodies radiated warmth, which made Patrick sweaty and a tad uncomfortable, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world.
They sat together, the boys watching an enormous, slobbering dog on the screen getting into all sorts of shenanigans. The scene, which was playing in front of them, showed two young kids trying to give the dog a bath, which leapt out of an overly sudsy tub, practically mowing down an overwhelmed mother. Finn and Connor laughed in unison.
“Daddy, that dog is being bad,” Connor noted, and giggled with delight.
Finn tugged on Patrick’s shirt. “We should a get a big doggy like that one. Can we get a dog, Daddy?”
“Yeah, we want a doggy. Can we each get a doggy?” they started to beg.
“Guys, maybe someday,” Patrick relented, but the boys continued to assault him with pleas of wanting a pet. They shouted out possible names and even where the animal would sleep.
Finally, Patrick was able to get them to return their attention back to the movie, but it wasn’t long before Finn asked another question. One that was far more difficult to answer.
“Daddy, will we ever get a mommy?” Finn’s eyes were wide with curiosity. Patrick decided it was best to just redirect his son’s attention for now by insisting that he was going to miss the best part of the movie. He was grateful his son didn’t press for an answer and happily returned his gaze to the TV.
Patrick could see their eyelids drooping as the movie continued to play. His own attention wasn’t on the troublemaking dog or the comically stressed-out family. No, his mind had wandered far away. He let out a heavy sigh. He wasn’t quite sure what to tell his sons, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep avoiding their questions. Beth knew this was going to happen eventually, she knew everything, even as she lay dying. That’s why she’d made him promise.
Chapter Six
Amber
“Amber, dear. Come over here, please,” Lynn called out.
Amber grabbed a dishtowel and dried her hands as she headed toward the sound of her mother’s voice. The diner had finally slowed down, well, just enough to get caught up before the dinner rush hit.
“Yes?” She had come through the swinging doors that led from the kitchen to the serving area by the front counter. She spotted her mother and smiled as she moved toward her.
“There she is,” Lynn said. She was standing as usual with a coffee pot in hand, near the closest table to the serving counter, where three women sat. “Ladies, this is my daughter, Amber,” Lynn announced, wrapping her arm around Amber, bringing her closer. “Mary, you probably remember her. She was in Liam’s grade.”
“Oh yes, that’s right.” Mary gave Amber a wide smile. Her hazel eyes were kind, and Amber vaguely remembered her, but it had been ages since she had seen Mary O’Brien.
“Amber, you remember Mary O’Brien. That’s her daughter, Maggie, and that’s Liam’s fiancée, Rachel,” Lynn introduced Amber to the women.
“Nice to meet you all,” Amber responded politely, giving them a small wave as she continued to dry her hands nervously. She couldn’t quite place Maggie’s face but knew she had been the youngest of the O’Brien children. She wouldn’t have even attended school with Amber, and as for Rachel, she was a completely new face altogether. Pretty and confident, she smiled back at Amber and extended her hand across the table.
“Hi, I’m Rachel Montgomery.” Her tone was polite and direct, and there was a hint of authority. “I’m the principal at Birch Valley Elementary.”
“Really? Mr. Anderson finally retired,” Amber responded. She wasn’t all that surprised; the man had been in charge of that school since she was a student and had to be well into his seventies.
“Yes, I started after the first of the year,” Rachel added, and then her cheeks blushed a pale pink. Amber quickly did the math in her head and realized right away that Rachel hadn’t been in Birch Valley more than six months. And she was already engaged? It must have been love at first sight.
“And you’re getting married to…Liam?”
Rachel nodded, a happy smile playing across her lips. “Yes, actually in two weeks.”
“Wow, well, congratulations. A Fourth of July wedding, how neat is that?”
Lynn and Mary remained quiet as Rachel and Amber continued to chat. Maggie finally joined in the conversation, asking, “So, why did you come back home, Amber?”
The question, though well intended, felt like a swift punch to her gut. She looked at her mother, her expression marred with panic. They had agreed to keep her father’s illness quiet for awhile. With the way the town spread gossip like a raging wild fire in the dead of summer, they weren’t ready for all the comments, suggestions, and endless food that would more than likely be brought over. It was best to not to say anything until they knew exactly what they were up against.
“Do you have any children?” Maggie asked, taking a sip from her glass of ice water.
Amber stood there and carefully answered her. “Well, I came back to help out around here. My son and I, well, we lost my husband, Peter, a couple of years ago.”
Maggie’s eyes dropped down toward the table, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she lifted her glass and took a sip.
Mary frowned sympathetically. “Oh my, I remember when your mother told me. I’m so terribly sorry for your loss. He sounded like a wonderful man.”
Rachel quickly chimed in and steered the conversation in another direction, but she wore a confused look on her face. “How old is your son, Amber? Does he attend the elementary school?”
“No, junior high. He’s going to be thirteen soon.”
“I have a little girl, Melanie, she’s six. We’re expecting another little one this fall.” Maggie’s head pointed down to her belly, but the table was blocking the view of her stomach.
“That’s wonderful news. Congratulations to you as well,” Amber chirped. She glanced at her mother, almost asking permission to join the women at their table.
“Amber, dear, come sit. Lynn, you could do with getting off your feet for bit as well,” Mary insisted sweetly.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Lynn replied, motioning for Amber to take a seat as well.
The women sat and visited until customers started to trickle in for dinner. Amber felt like she’d hit it off with Rachel fairly easily; they were the same age and found they had quite a bit in common. Maggie seemed a little reserved and distant, but friendly enough, and asked Amber if she would like to grab coffee sometime. Maybe she just needed to warm up a little to her, but Amber hoped they could get to know each other.
It felt odd, sitting there with this group of women. She had lost contact with most of her friends after Peter died, since she’d retreated so far into her cave, only venturing out to get food and to take Dylan to school; she’d become somewhat of a hermit. She hadn’t realized how much she missed having friends. Just some female companionship to chat with about normal stuff. Maybe moving back wouldn’t be so awful if she could make friends again.
***
Patrick
The family was all seated around the large table, all in their usual places. It was loud, slightly chaotic, but suffused with love as the O’Brien family celebrated Father’s Day. Mary had prepared an incredible feast, almost Thanksgiving-like. She roasted a turkey to absolute juicy perfection, and she’d made her signature dressing and candied yams—basically all the trimmings imaginable.
Patrick eyed his sons and his brother,
Daniel, as he noticed the makings of mischief and a possible mini food fight. Why Daniel insisted on being the one to instigate trouble and teach Finn and Connor the worst table manners was beyond Patrick. He loved that his brothers were the best uncles he could ask for, but Daniel tried his patience, especially during family dinners. “Boys,” he said in a firm tone, causing Finn and Connor to return to their food momentarily. Patrick gave Daniel a pleading stare, silently asking his brother to stop messing around.
Rachel and Maggie were chatting about the wedding. They were on the countdown now; only two more weeks until his brother, Liam, tied the knot. Rachel had shared earlier that her family was being a bit difficult about attending the ceremony, to the point where she was worried that they weren’t going to be coming at all. But her best friend, Chelsea, and her brother, Ethan, would be attending. Patrick nearly cringed when he’d heard Chelsea was coming up next week to help with the final wedding preparations. That woman had a hard time understanding the words “no” and “not interested”. Granted, she was a cute little thing, but definitely not his type. She didn’t cause the reaction inside of him the way Amber had, that’s for damn sure. He still hadn’t seen her since the day he changed that blown tire on her trailer, partially because he’d been avoiding the diner, which was not his usual style. He and Daniel used to get breakfast there daily, sometimes even popping in for lunch or a bite to eat after being out on a job site all day.
He was so caught up in his thoughts he almost didn’t hear Grandpa Paddy say, “So, Patrick, my boy, I want to raise my glass to you, raising two fine little lads, Happy Father’s Day to ya.”
Patrick's Promise (Cloverleaf #3) Page 6
