Patrick smiled and thanked him. Grandpa Paddy, with his glass still lifted, said, “And to Liam, may you have many happy days and a lot of luck as a father.” He paused briefly before saying, “Michael, you have done a beautiful job with my wee lass over there…” Melanie giggled and stared at Michael with loving admiration. Grandpa Paddy looked wise with his shock of white hair and continued in his thick brogue. “May you and Maggie have many more blessings and a healthy baby this go around.”
“Aww, thank you, Grandpa Paddy.” Maggie had a wet sheen to her eyes. She got up from the table and gave her grandfather a kiss on the cheek.
Their father, Pat, cleared his throat, raised his own glass, and not to be outdone, said, “To my children, you have all made me so proud. It’s an honor to be your father.”
All the O’Brien siblings rose from their seats and gathered around Pat, all hugging him and showering him with affection. Even Rachel and Michael felt so moved by the toast that they wanted to show their appreciation for these men, who had a tremendous part in raising their significant others. As Patrick returned to his seat, he saw his mother dab her eyes with the bent corner of the linen napkin she clutched. In the O’Brien household, tears were shed often, mostly from laughing so hard until their sides ached, but sometimes it was the emotional moments such as this that showed the deep-rooted love that cemented their family together.
***
Amber
“Dad, did you want any more water, or can I get you anything at all?” Amber asked softly.
The morning of Father’s Day started out rough and only seemed to grow worse as the day progressed. Her father had spent most of the night ill beyond anything she had ever witnessed. The after effects of chemo were hard and violent, the process brutal. Her mother had already left for the diner, after Amber reassured her countless times that she was happy to look after her father and that it would do her mother good to get out of the house. Lynn had hesitated, but Amber insisted to the point where she started to push her mother out the door. She had also sent Dylan to go help out for the day, as she thought is was probably better for him to not see his grandfather in his weakened state.
Her father shook his head, his eyes closing from the exhaustion of spilling out the contents of his stomach for hours. His softly weathered face was ashen and pale, his gray hair matted and wild. This man, Dean Herrick, who Amber remembered had been strong and vital on their last visit when they came down to Portland for the holidays, was now reduced to a shell of his former self. She reached for his blanket and pulled it up, tucking it securely around his body. She removed the damp wash rag she had used to cool him down earlier that afternoon when the fever had relentlessly tormented him. Looking down at him, Amber had felt almost maternal toward the man who helped create her, who’d helped raise and protect her, who now needed her more than ever before. As she spent Father’s Day alone with her father, tending to him during this challenging time, and with the unknown outcome looming over them, she’d said a silent prayer. He didn’t deserve this; no one did.
Amber sat comfortably on the couch, her laptop balanced on her thighs as her fingers danced along the keys, words flowing in a fast rhythm, and she found herself escaping to the place she loved. A place where she could pour those bottled-up emotions out and turn them into something well, prettier than how she truly felt inside; that’s why her blog meant so much to her. It made her happy. She was swarmed by people eager to read her thoughts and ideas, who didn’t know of the raw and frayed emotions that had been welling up inside her. This was her alternate life, one that she had only dabbled in before Peter died, and one that she had fully immersed herself in when he was gone. She was editing a blog she had just created moments earlier, scanning it for errors and battling her self-doubt, when the front door opened. Her mother and Dylan worked their way past the small entryway and into the living room.
“Hi, guys,” Amber greeted them, looking up from the bright screen and readjusting the reading glasses that were perched on her face.
“Hey, Mom.” Dylan plopped down next to her on the couch. He looked utterly worn out. Her son wasn’t used to hard work, and running a business like the diner was one of the hardest jobs out there. He barely could keep his room clean, but an experience like this would hopefully teach him the benefits and rewards of hard work. Besides, she didn’t want her mother to be without an extra pair of hands.
Lynn stood there, a worried expression apparent in her eyes. She had called to check on how Dean was doing throughout the entire day. “How’s Dad?”
“He’s resting now. Not much has changed since the last time you called.”
She hung her head, visibly disappointed. “Okay, I’m going to go peek in on him.”
“I made soup. I had hoped to try to get something in him, but he wasn’t really able to eat. So there’s extra if you didn’t eat yet,” Amber offered. Her mother gave her a grateful nod and turned to go to the bedroom where Dean was resting.
Amber turned to Dylan. “You hungry, buddy?”
“No, I ate there. I’m so tired,” he complained as he yawned and scowled.
“It’s hard work, I know. That’s what I grew up having to do.”
Dylan tossed her a scared look. “Like, you had to do this all the time? God, Mom, that’s awful.”
Amber laughed. “It wasn’t all that bad. Looking back on it, I sort of miss it.”
“Well, I wouldn’t.”
Amber frowned. “Sometimes we don’t have much choice. It’s important to help your family out.”
They sat on the couch quietly, Dylan staring at the wall directly in front of them as Amber tried to finalize her blog post, but she was distracted by having Dylan next to her, knowing he wasn’t very happy. “Mom…”
“Yes, sweetie?” Amber answered without looking up from her screen. Her brain was having a difficult time processing what she was reading.
“I miss Dad. I’m also really worried about Grandpa,” he explained. “Is he going to get better?”
Releasing a deep breath, she closed her laptop and moved it to the coffee table directly in front of them. After removing her glasses, she faced her son and pulled him into her arms. He was rigid at first, resisting her, but seconds later he melted into her chest and unleashed an army of angry, sad tears. He was swallowing and gulping to catch his breath; the crying was hard and caused his small shoulders to shake. Amber rubbed his back and whispered soothing words, all while fighting back the urge to let go and join him.
Were things ever going to get any easier? Just when they had somewhat moved on to a different stage of grief, one where they had finally been getting into a better place, at least mentally, they had been hit with this issue. It was hard not to feel overwhelmed.
Amber wiped at her own silent tears and pulled back, looking down at Dylan. “I have an idea…”
She led him out to the small detached garage next to the house. Inside, Amber turned on the single light and located her shiny green bicycle and Dylan’s sporty BMX.
“A bike ride?” Dylan asked, not overly impressed by her grand plan to turn this night into a win.
“Why not? It helps me clear my head, and we haven’t gone for a ride since we moved here,” Amber explained as she fished out his bike and rolled it near the opening of the garage.
“I guess so,” Dylan grumbled. He grabbed his bike from her and mounted it. She could tell that he wanted to ride. He was more than a tad moody, and this would be just the cure.
Amber steered her bicycle out of the garage and gingerly slung her short legs over the frame. Her bicycle had taken her more miles than she could count, providing so much joy and freedom. Riding bikes had also been an activity that she and Dylan enjoyed together. Peter had loved riding with her; they would cruise along the many trails that were designed just for bicyclists in Portland. After Dylan was born, Peter had strapped on a baby trailer to his bike and they would go out as a family, even just around a couple of blocks in their neighborhood or t
o a nearby park. She had kept his bicycle, as she didn’t have the heart to donate or sell it. Amber wanted to give it to Dylan when he was bigger and able to ride it.
They left the driveway and started to pedal down the street. The sky was almost dark, the street lights softly illuminating the quiet streets. Amber breathed in as she felt the air hit her face; it was warm and lightly scented with all the delicious smells of a summer night. She had missed this. She looked over at Dylan, who was on her right side. She could see his tormented worries from earlier disappear, replaced with contentment as he pedaled faster and sped past her, his laughter echoing. She was more than up for the challenge as they raced down the block. Her legs started to burn slightly, tingling as she pushed them harder to catch up with Dylan. Her boy was quickly proving to be a little more difficult to beat these days, but she couldn’t help but smile. Sometimes it took a little physical strain to push past the emotional pain. Amber’s smile grew wider; this had been exactly what they both had needed.
They returned to the house exhausted, drained, and happy. Amber and Dylan walked inside to find the home quiet and dark; only one table lamp had been left on. Amber put her finger to her lips, a silent warning for them both to be quiet.
They started toward their bedrooms when Dylan paused. “Thanks, Mom,” he whispered and hugged Amber tightly. She squeezed him close, feeling positive for the first time since they had arrived. She realized in that moment, that together they would find a way to get through all of this.
Chapter Seven
Patrick
The temperature was rising. Even the morning had started out hot. Patrick grimaced as he and Daniel unloaded some wood planks out of their work truck. Daniel kept wiping away the beads of sweat that ran down his face.
“God, it’s hot,” Daniel complained as he hefted the heavy wood up unto his broad shoulder.
“Well, it’s almost summer. It’s only going to get hotter.”
Daniel rolled his eyes and again wiped more sweat away. They were at the Belsky family farm, and they would soon be finishing up another large shed on the property. Patrick caught sight of a few goats grazing in the distance. The property was massive; there were several large fields that had been divided and were growing different crops. Another large patch of land had hay, which was being cut and left in organized piles, drying out in the sun and waiting to be baled. Patrick could only imagine how incredibly hard it must be to maintain a property of this size. But they were doing it, and they were successful at it. Patrick had learned, after talking to Mr. Belsky, that he sold a good deal of his crops to some major markets; they also jarred their own honey and sold a ton of produce and homespun goods at the local farmers’ market. Mr. Belsky had several sons that helped run the farm, but he also provided jobs to some of the local guys. He also had two daughters, and they were notorious for their soaps and quilts. Patrick knew his sister wanted to purchase one of the quilts for the nursery she was setting up.
Patrick and Daniel worked until late afternoon; the sun still perched high in the sky, beating down hard on the earth and on them. Working inside the sheds was miserable; the enclosures corralled the heat, making both Daniel and Patrick cranky.
“You about ready to call it a day? I don’t think I can take much more,” Daniel asked as he drank from another bottle of water. He had just chugged two in a row and was almost done downing the one he held.
“Yeah, look on the bright side, we got a lot done today though.” Patrick admired their handiwork. The building was almost complete.
As they both started gathering their tools, they heard the delicate footsteps of someone entering.
Patrick and Daniel both looked up and saw that one of the Belsky daughters had come in. It was Hannah, the older of the two, and she was carrying a tray with two glasses and a pitcher.
“My mother wanted me to bring this to you.” Her voice quivered with shyness, and she looked terribly nervous. Seconds later, her sister, Nina, entered. Her long, blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders, a bright yet mischievous smile on her face as she entered. It was obvious that Nina was gorgeous, and she knew it. She strutted inside, almost pushing past her sister. She gave both Daniel and Patrick an appreciative glance as she approached them.
“How’s it going in here?” Her voice was overly sugary and almost high pitched. She batted her mascara-covered lashes. Patrick watched as Daniel swallowed. His brother was so easily affected by women, especially one as attractive as Nina. Patrick almost laughed as he watched Nina move in closer. She seemed focused in her movements, purposefully swinging her hips, puffing out her ample chest, and almost stalking them with her eyes, clearly craving their attention. Daniel seemed frozen, hypnotized even. Out of the two sisters, Nina had the looks of a super model. She was thin, tall, and graceful. Hannah was of a more sturdy build and quite a bit shorter, and had a simple beauty, not overstated or overly made up with make-up.
“Daniel, you want to help me carry this stuff to the truck?” Patrick tried to break his brother’s stare.
“Oh, y-yeah, s-sure,” Daniel stammered.
“Do you need some help?” Nina offered, a smile playing on lipstick-stained mouth.
“I think we got this, but thanks,” Patrick replied as he turned his attention to Hannah. “Thanks for the drinks. We’ll be right back to enjoy them. Please tell your mother we appreciate it.” Hannah nodded, giving him a close-mouthed, polite smile.
Nina looked confused and slightly disappointed. Patrick wasn’t as easily moved as his brother; he was used to women flirting with him regularly and learned how to deflect their charms. Daniel moved his eyes away from Nina and lifted a heavy toolbox to take to the truck.
“Wow, Nina sure is pretty,” Daniel commented once they were away from the shed and loading their tools into the back of the work truck.
“Yeah, but you can get into trouble with a girl like that.”
“I’d like to try,” Daniel teased back, causing Patrick to laugh.
“Well, let’s go have that drink that Hannah brought in. Try and behave,” Patrick said.
“Behave? Patrick, behaving isn’t nearly as fun,” Daniel joked.
Patrick knew that Daniel talked a big game, and that he tried to act like he was this Casanova, when in actuality he was terrified of women and had crippling self-doubt. It was a shame, really. Daniel was a great guy, but he always seemed to feel rejected by women. Patrick remembered that when Rachel’s friend, Chelsea, had visited, Daniel was totally into her, and Patrick could understand why. Chelsea was hot, simply put. So of course his brother would be easily smitten, but her snobby attitude and aggressiveness didn’t sit well with Patrick. As the thought of her crossed his mind, he couldn’t help but feel a bit worried. Chelsea would be arriving at the end of the week, and he needed to try and keep his distance. Daniel was welcome to try his hand at getting her attention again.
Maybe this would be a great time to pay a visit to Amber. He had been thinking about her a lot the last couple days and was tempted to stop into Herrick’s and possibly ask her out. He really didn’t know what he wanted to do. He still found himself wrangling with guilt about even wanting to get to know Amber. But what would a cup of coffee hurt?
***
Amber
She was wiping the counter with a towel doused in warm bleach water, the heavy chemical smell making her nose tingle, when she heard the bell on the door chime. Amber turned her head and saw Patrick O’Brien walk in. His tall body filled the doorway. He paused and seemed to be looking around, almost searching. Then his eyes caught hers before she had a chance to dart hers away. A sexy grin curled on his lips, and she felt the insides of her stomach knot nervously. How was it possible for this man to cause such an array of reactions inside her?
He moved toward the counter with ease, almost gliding across the dining room. He was dressed in jeans and a crisp white polo shirt, which enhanced his tanned skin. Amber swallowed as she drank him in. She tossed the towel back into the small bucket of
water that was near her and tried to smile as he approached.
“Hi, how’s it going?” Her voice was shaky, and she almost didn’t recognize the sound of it. So much for her feeble attempt at trying to act cool.
“Not too bad, yourself?” Patrick stood by the counter, his thick black lashes highlighting his twinkling green eyes. She could see the dark stubble on his jaw and made the mistake of looking at his lips. Instantly, she was curious what they would feel like on hers.
“I’m good,” Amber managed to answer, unintentionally licking her lips; her mouth had suddenly gone dry.
“So, how are you and Dylan settling in?” Patrick asked as he took a seat directly in front of her. She stared at the fine black hair on his toned muscular forearms, which he had placed on the counter.
“We’re starting to get reacquainted with the area. He’s struggling to make some friends at school,” Amber admitted.
Patrick’s brow creased with concern. “Well, I’m sure he will make some. It’s hard being the new kid. How’s your dad doing?”
Amber sighed. “I know, you’re right. Just with school letting out next week, I really had hoped, you know? That way he could have buddies during the summer.” Amber made no mention about her father and hoped that Patrick wouldn’t press the issue.
He nodded and leaned back against the back of the stool. She eyed his long torso, trying desperately not to imagine what he would look like without his shirt on. It had been a long time since she had felt any stirrings of desire, and the flame was causing her skin to feel suddenly flushed.
“Did you want to order anything?” The diner was eerily quiet, but Amber had enjoyed the peace. She’d been using the time to catch up on cleaning and prep work.
“Actually, I was wondering if maybe…” He paused. She could see him hesitate and wondered why. “Maybe you would want to go out sometime?”
Patrick's Promise (Cloverleaf #3) Page 7
