She lifted her glass. “To all of you,” she said, “for making this an incredible Christmas for me.”
Out of nowhere, she suffered another massive soft lump in her throat. It had been fun. The whole day. Every bite, every joke, every goofy carol, every witless game and dropped fork. But somehow, by the time she handed out slices of the coconut cake...she felt as if her heart was breaking.
They were leaving her, of course. Not in a matter of weeks, but a matter of a day or two.
If she’d fallen in love—even if she’d fallen out of her mind in crazy love with Whit—he was leaving. He had a job, a life. The girls had their friends, their school, their lives.
A woman would have to be stupid to make something more of the holiday than it was.
Yeah, it was magical. And special. And unique. But it was going to be over, and she needed to toughen up and face it.
She wrapped up the leftover ham and turned toward the kitchen.
“Nope,” Whit said. “You did the lion’s share of the work. The three of us will do KP. Out. Put your feet up.”
“I don’t mind—”
“Girls,” Whit said, which worked like a trigger on a gun. The girls immediately rushed her, hustled her out of the kitchen, pushed her onto the couch and put a corny Christmas movie on the flat screen.
“Don’t move until my dad says,” Pepper warned her.
She tried to obey. She meant to obey. But she’d just settled into the dumb movie, when out of the complete blue, a thundering army showed up at her front door.
Bodies hurled inside. Boys. Adults. A howling bloodhound. A very, very pregnant lady. All yelling Merry Christmases and talking at once.
* * *
Whit let the girls loose once the dishwasher was filled up, but some baking pans still needed some work. His mind was on Rosemary, not the sink filling up with white soapsuds.
His present idea had been dumb, dumb, dumb. The kind of classic dumb he specialized in with women. He didn’t exactly know why it brought tears to her eyes, but he knew the last thing he’d wanted was to stress her. Or upset her. Or hurt her.
She’d seemed fine the rest of the day—and that was true for all of them—but there’d been endless hours without having a single chance to explain about the present. Or discover why it upset her so much in the first place.
He lifted the potato pan into the sudsy water, then looked around for some kind of scrubbing device...when a noisy commotion erupted in the living room. Visitors.
He grabbed a dish towel to wipe his hands and headed for the doorway. Formal introductions were made—none of which could he hear—but he didn’t need the introductions anyway.
The men had to be Rosemary’s brothers—Tucker and Ike. Both were tall and lean, with Rosemary’s eyes. Tucker looked a little more wash-and-wear; Ike more determinedly scruffy. The boys hanging by Tucker were a Mutt and Jeff pair; one athletic and the other a little geeky. They had to be close to his girls’ age.
A dog was in the midst of everything—a huge bloodhound, with a tail thwacking anything that moved. He barged through the bodies, climbed on the couch and went into a prompt coma. That is, his eyes immediately drooped, while the tail continued to thump.
Two women were part of the group. A pregnant woman emerged from the crowded bodies—a very pregnant woman—who charged in the living room, watermelon-size stomach first, hands behind her back, and galloped straight for the bathroom. The other woman was built on the slight side, but had a smile that filled her face, easy joy in her eyes.
All of them had brought a heap of presents for Rosemary. And the boys had brought the presents from Rosemary, so they could open them with her there. Apparently—he heard this in someone’s high volume voice—they’d had dinner early at the MacKinnon seniors. The MacKinnon mom/grandma predictably got an emergency call from the hospital. So they’d cleared out, decided to pack up their cars and head for the MacKinnon lodge and Rosemary.
Whit shook a half-dozen hands, met everyone even though he couldn’t hear over the din, and watched Rosemary nestle in with her obviously loved and loving kin. At some point the bloodhound realized there were two other kids in the house—the twins—and uncrumpled from the couch to meet them, slobber all over them and get hugged. The kids, boys and girls both, took one look at each other and abruptly turned into wall huggers. Ike’s wife, Ginger, noticed the kids were gripped by a terrible case of shyness, and came through with a rum cake.
Both the rum cake and last of the white coconut cake were devoured. Xmas cookies were produced. Presents ripped open. Soft drinks were handed out in the living room. And somewhere around an hour or two later, Whit headed for the refrigerator...when he abruptly discovered Rosemary’s two brothers right behind him.
Tucker had a bottle of Carolina Peach Shine. The whiskey had a reputation; it was legal moonshine but that hadn’t always been the case. There were still stills up and down the mountains in this part of Carolina. Tucker explained that history, while Ike amiably produced three glasses.
So...Whit didn’t need a sledgehammer to get the message. Ike and Tucker took their big brother roles seriously—which meant he was about to get a grilling.
* * *
Rosemary knew the instant she saw her brothers’ faces that she needed to save Whit, and quickly. When the MacKinnons first showed up, she saw no reason to worry. Whit ambled right in the middle of it all.
Garnet, Tucker’s wife, had brought gifts—vanilla—from her own private vanilla stock. Whit caught on that she was the owner of Plain Vanilla, an herb store down-mountain. Garnet tended to hang back from strangers, but not with Whit, who immediately coaxed her into a dialogue about how she grew the vanilla, her techniques and ideas. Once Whit mentioned being a landscape architect, Rosemary doubted even a machete could pry them apart. Fertilizers. Weed killers. Soil pH levels. They buzzed on about stuff that clearly thrilled them both.
Tucker shot her an amused look. He loved to see his new wife open up and blossom.
The boys finally got to open presents from their aunt Rosemary—and naturally, she’d felt duty bound to choose things their parents wouldn’t appreciate. Drums. A chemistry set. An ant farm. But a couple things were a little more serious. She’d bought Pete some modest shares of stock in a respected toy manufacturer, because he was born for business, even at his young age. And Will got a rock tumbler, which was another truly horrible noisemaker intended to drive his parents crazy.
Tucker showed his appreciation by bopping her on the head several times. Ike initially gave her a kiss and a shrug-hug, but then he hunkered down with the kids. The girls and boys were still a little frozen with each other, but Ike got them loosened up by telling bear stories.
En route, Rosemary had to catch up with Ginger, Ike’s new bride. Ginger had met Ike when she was in a heap of trouble—her so-loved grandfather had developed Alzheimer’s; the family tea plantation had been self-destructing; her ne’er-do-well father showed up, assuming she’d be happy to support him...and oh, yeah, she happened to be pregnant by a man she described as a cross between vermin and a louse.
Ginger, unlike her gentler sister-in-law, never had to be coaxed to talk. She was redoing an antique bassinet for the baby.... Her grandfather was doing far better with family in the house...and she was far, far, far too pregnant to handle the crisis of her deadbeat dad, so she’d passed that crisis on to her new husband.
“Everyone who meets Ike,” Ginger told her, “thinks he’s laid back and easygoing and not one to walk fast in a tornado.”
“I know,” Rosemary agreed, half an eye on Whit, who was still talking to Garnet, but simultaneously managed to move a dish of cookies away from the bloodhound’s mournful eyes. “Ike always claimed to be lazier than a slug. I think he just really didn’t want to be work-obsessed like our parents.”
“Well, that’s the sc
am he sold himself. Anyway, he met my father, couldn’t have been more welcoming or nicer. Next thing, he took my blood pressure and then just said that my dad could always visit, but he wasn’t living with us at this time. I told him that was fine. Next thing I know, he’s put my father to work, doing lists and inventories of the tea supplies. My dad took off at the speed of light.”
Rosemary chuckled, well able to imagine that picture. “Boy or girl, or do you know that?” She noticed Ginger’s hand suddenly press on her bulging abdomen.
“The ultrasound claims it’s a girl. Which has made Ike over the moon...but I have a nightmare worrying she’ll be a redhead with a temper like mine. And my other nightmare is worrying that there are twins in there. How can I possibly be this big if there’s only one?”
“You’re not that big,” Rosemary promised her.
“I am. I feel like my name should be synonymous with whales. Elephants. Defunct dinosaurs. I haven’t seen my feet in a month. Thank God for Garnet.”
Garnet finally disengaged from Whit and moved closer. “I’ve been giving her herbs and herbal teas. Not medicinally. She doesn’t need medicine. But just to boost her spirits.”
“How can my spirits get boosted if I’m so fat I can’t see my feet?”
Ike showed up from behind her back. “Have you ever seen a sexier, more desirable woman in your life?” He kissed her on the crown of her head.
“You can’t mean that. You’re delusional.” But she looked at him with pure, naked love in her eyes.
Garnet rolled her eyes at Rosemary. “I thought Tucker and I were bad. But these two can’t seem to let up on the google-eyes.”
“I love seeing my brothers brought low,” Rosemary assured them both.
The kids came pouring through the door. She started cleaning up one mess—all the Christmas wrappings—only one of the kids spilled a bowl of nuts, and then dishes and glasses reproduced at the speed of sound on all surfaces.
By the time she realized the women and children were all in the living room and the men were alone in the kitchen, she almost had a heart attack. Her brothers had cornered Whit, she just knew it. She climbed over Ginger’s knees, weaved past the kids—all of whom were eating popcorn from the tree—and galloped toward the kitchen doorway.
Ike and Tucker were just exiting—a bottle of moonshine in Ike’s hand. Opened bottle of moonshine. Alarm drummed in her pulse. “What have you done, you two?” she asked darkly.
“It’s okay. We just need to see you for a minute.”
“Why. What’s wrong. Where’s Whit—”
“We were all outside for just a couple minutes.” Tucker, the eldest, had always used his strength to muscle her into doing what he wanted. Of course, that was how she’d learned to pinch and bite.
“What’s going on?”
“We’re going to the bathroom.”
“Together? Do we have to?”
“We only want two seconds alone with you. It’s the only place where we can’t be overheard.”
“What if I’d rather have witnesses?”
“This is between the three of us. Besides. If we’re taking over a bathroom, you can be positive we won’t talk for over three minutes. Ginger can barely wait that long between visits, and she’s not about to waddle all the way upstairs.”
“Where’s Whit now?” she repeated. “How much moonshine did you pour down him?”
“Rosemary, Rosemary. How could you think such thoughts about your brothers? I swear you won’t be mad at us. We just want to tell you a couple things in private.”
They were evil, both of them. Always had been, always would be. But to give them credit, they were brief. They locked the door, looked at her portentously, gave big slow sighs—but once she punched them, they both started talking.
“Okay, here’s the deal.” Tucker spoke first. “We approve. We came here, both of us prepared to mop the floor with him if we had to. But I think you’ve finally met your match, cookie.”
That was all he had to say, and Ike took even less time. “I’ll never ask you again about George. Don’t care. He doesn’t matter. You’ve moved on. And to a better guy than George ever was.”
“That’s it? You’re not even going to ask my opinion? You don’t know what’s happening or not happening. You don’t know—”
“We know enough.”
“Except...” Tucker stuck his hands in his pockets. “I was wondering if Whit’s girls might like to come home with us. Just for the night. The kids were all talking about some game they wanted to play.”
Rosemary frowned. “It wouldn’t be up to me. It’d be up to Whit. But—”
“It’s not like we’d be far away, sis. Just down-mountain. If the girls wanted to come back, I could have them back here in less than twenty minutes. I figured we should ask you before asking Whit. And before bringing it up to the kids.”
“Well, I—”
“We could hear the four of them talking about this dumb game they wanted to play. You know how big our place is. It’s not as if we don’t have a whole wing to separate the genders.”
“That never crossed my mind,” Rosemary said, unsure why the brothers were sharing meaningful looks, and she got the feeling she was being manipulated. She didn’t think it was necessarily a bad idea; she just felt railroaded.
“For that matter, if they just want to play the game and then come back up here with you and Whit, that’d be fine, too. It’s no problem either way.”
When Tucker was being nice, there was always a reason. She wanted to object on that basis—Tucker’s historical record—only she couldn’t really think of any real reason why the kids couldn’t play a game together if they all wanted to.
“Ask Whit,” she said.
They did. The commotion abruptly turned back into a noisy crescendo, with kids running around, collecting hats and mittens or forgetting them and coming back. Shoes were lost. Then found. Ginger, once she stood up, needed a bathroom run. Before she left, ten minutes later, she needed another one. Pansy, the bloodhound, came out of her coma and wove her way between people, especially people who were trying to carry things to and from cars. The girls were talking in shrieks, which, come to think of it, Rosemary had long figured out was their regular speaking voice.
Over and through it all, she kept track of Whit, and outside when the crew was all leaving, she noticed her two brothers aim toward Whit.
She galloped in front of Whit at breakneck speed. Stood in front of him, folded her arms.
Tucker and Ike stopped dead, glanced at Whit, then at her...and then both of them started laughing like hyenas.
“Whether you like it or not, Whit, it looks like she’s going to protect you from us.”
“If you two don’t start being nice to me, I’d hate to tell you what I’ll be giving the kids next Christmas. I’m thinking a boa constrictor. In a cage with a loose lock.”
That didn’t help. They laughed even harder.
To make matters worse, she suddenly felt Whit’s hands on her shoulders from behind. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I appreciate your protecting me. They’re pretty scary.”
“You think they’re funny, but you weren’t their little sister.”
“I get that. But I like how they treat their little sister.”
“That’s only because you can’t help it. You have that same twisted Y chromosome. You’re not responsible for occasional Neanderthal opinions.”
“Whew. I’m relieved you don’t find me responsible.”
The whole time she was having this insane conversation with him, his hands were still on her shoulders from behind, and the cars were backing up, lights on, disappearing down the mountain. Heaven knew when night had come on, but the sky was muddy black, clouds blustering against each other and occasionally spitting.
&
nbsp; Obviously they needed to head inside, but she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready for nightfall, for all the sudden silence.
And she definitely wasn’t ready to face Whit.
Chapter Thirteen
“You realize that your brothers set us up so we could be alone tonight,” Whit said.
“I know. They’re both as subtle as sledgehammers.” Cold rain kept drooling from the sky. Silver drops slid in her hair. In her eyes.
But she was intensely aware that something was different about Whit. He didn’t seem to notice the cold, the dark, the rain. He just kept looking at her. There was a calm in his face, in his gaze.
“I told your brothers what I’d given you for Christmas,” he mentioned.
“Oh? And what’d they say?”
“Well, once I told them, they stopped trying to pour moonshine down my throat. That peach moonshine...” Whit shook his head. “That’s quite a drink. On a par with...”
“Gasoline?”
“That wasn’t my first thought, but close enough. Tucker and Ike had been grilling me nonstop. When I confessed about the present, they both stopped talking altogether. They had this crazy idea that you loved the present.”
“I did. I do.” Blast it. Tears blurred her eyes again. Showing up like they did before, out of the blue, and including a soft thick feeling in her throat. “I more than loved it, Whit.”
Slowly, cautiously, he came closer. Used the edge of his thumbs to wipe the spill of tears. “I thought you were crying because I’d disappointed or upset you.”
“No. Never that. Just the opposite. It’s just...there isn’t much that moves me to tears. Not like this.” She had to get past that lump in her throat, needed to tell him—wanted to tell him—exactly what his present had meant. “Most of my life, I’ve thought of myself as kind of invisible. My parents would sometimes forget that they were leaving me alone. My first boyfriend in high school—he was a good guy, no question—but when we broke up, he was with someone else in less than a week. Easy for me to start thinking of myself as forgettable. And then, of course, there was George. George said he loved me. I don’t actually doubt that he meant it...but when push came down to shove, apparently he didn’t know me at all. Never saw me. Not really.”
Mackinnon 03 - The Bonus Mom Page 17
