Mission: Cavanaugh Baby

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Look, Cavanaugh,” she began, a warning throbbing in her voice.

  “Hey, we’re here,” he announced. Pulling up at the first curb space he found, Shane glanced in her direction and said, “Maybe you’d better call me by my first name. You say Cavanaugh around here, and you’re bound to get a chorus of responses. That’ll set you back by a while, I suspect.”

  Ashley looked around. He’d turned down a residential block. Considering the number of cars parked up and down both sides of the street, she was amazed that it was so silent in the area. Either the people who belonged to the cars had all been struck dumb, or this was the scene of some sort of macabre mass alien abduction. She wasn’t sure exactly which explanation she was rooting for.

  “Where’s ‘here’?” she asked pointedly, her eyes pinning him to his seat.

  Or so she thought.

  Shane was out of the vehicle and gesturing toward a house halfway down the tree-lined block.

  “Here,” he told her with a maddening emphasis that meant nothing to her.

  Taking her arm, Shane began to usher her along the street and toward the house.

  “And what is it we’re doing ‘here’?” She wanted to know. “And I swear, if you say ‘you’ll see’ to me one more time, I’m not going to be responsible for what I do to you.”

  Their eyes met and held for a moment, and she could have sworn she both heard and felt a crackle of electricity so strong that for a moment she couldn’t speak. She did her best to press her lips together into a frown.

  “Stop,” he teased. “You’re getting me all hot with anticipation.”

  Now there was fire in her eyes as she all but shouted his name. “Cavanaugh!”

  He stopped walking and raised his right index finger as if to caution her. “What did I tell you?” he asked as if he was speaking to a five-year-old. “What’s my name?”

  Her teeth were clenched as she tried to hold her temper in check. Why was it that this man could make her so angry so quickly? She prided herself on her even approach to things, her ability to mask her reaction. Around Shane, it seemed like it all went out the window.

  “Mud as far as I’m concerned, if I don’t get a few straight answers out of you soon,” she told him.

  He resumed walking with her again, and in a minute they were on the doorstep of a large, rambling two-story house that seemed to literally exude warmth just by its very presence.

  “Straight answers coming up,” Shane promised as he rapped on the front door.

  The door was opened by a tall, well-built man in his late fifties, possibly early sixties. It occurred to her that he carried his age well. It also occurred to her that he had to be a Cavanaugh. He looked like one of them. The man was wearing casual clothing and a wide grin, the latter being the very first thing anyone ever noticed about Andrew Cavanaugh.

  “The door’s open. You don’t have to knock,” Andrew told Shane, then added, “You made it.” The former chief sounded very pleased. “And this has to be the birthday celebrant,” he said, turning to look at her. He clasped her hand between his. Hers all but disappeared. “Pleased to meet you, Ashley. I’m Andrew Cavanaugh.”

  She would have been lost in awe of meeting the man if the first words he’d said to her hadn’t left her completely bewildered.

  “Birthday celebrant?” She threw Shane a perplexed took. “I think there’s been some kind of a mistake. It’s not my birthday.”

  “Oh? Are you sure?” he challenged. “Then when is your birthday?” Andrew asked, the voice of utter studied innocence.

  “I don’t know.”

  Ashley hated the way that sounded, hated admitting that she didn’t know. It branded her as a person without a home, without a family to tell her the necessary things she ought to know. It made her feel like a rootless, homeless drifter.

  “Well, if you don’t know,” Andrew began, “then how do you know it’s not today? It might be, right? There is that possibility.”

  He had a point, she supposed. Still, she’d gone all these years without one—using July first, the day she’d been found near the burning vehicle, as the date she’d filled out on applications under date of birth, backdating the year by four because the first pediatrician that had checked her out had judged that she was in her fourth year.

  But it wasn’t her birthday any more than any other date was.

  “Yes, but—” she began to protest. She got no further with Andrew than she had with Shane. Apparently none of the Cavanaughs took no for an answer—or brooked any sort of resistance.

  Andrew tucked his arm through hers and brought her into the foyer.

  “I was talking to Shane here about how he liked working in Homicide, and he started telling me about the partner he was temporarily paired with. When he mentioned that you’d never had a birthday party, well, I just couldn’t let something like that slide.”

  He looked at her, and she could have sworn the very room seemed to light up. The man had probably charmed all his prisoners into handcuffs back in the day, she thought.

  “So, for at least the spate of this party, today is your birthday and this is your birthday party.” Andrew leaned over and whispered into her ear, “Everyone should have at least one birthday party they remember. Humor an old man,” he added with a wink as he straightened again.

  Her mouth had gone dry because it felt as if all the moisture she had available had gathered into tears and were threatening to fall now.

  “All right,” she managed to choke out in a whisper, agreeing to play along.

  Andrew laughed, giving her a quick, one-armed warm hug.

  “Atta girl.” He turned toward Shane. “I’ll leave the introductions to you. I’ve got a main course in the oven that requires my attention.” He surrounded her hand with both of his for a moment and said just before he retreated, “Enjoy yourself. I’ll catch up with you as soon as I’m able.”

  She turned toward Shane. “This was your idea, wasn’t it?” It didn’t come out like an accusation exactly, but it was obvious that she had an opinion on what the answer was.

  “I haven’t the vaguest idea what you’re talking about,” he answered innocently.

  He eyed Ashley, wondering if she was going to be angry and accuse him of overstepping his boundaries or something along those lines. Instead, she surprised him by raising herself up on her toes and brushing a very soft, very light kiss along his cheek.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Her reaction left him utterly speechless for a moment. Then, collecting himself, he followed his uncle’s advice and began to introduce her to the veritable legions of people who were otherwise known as Cavanaughs and Cavanaugh relatives.

  The introductions took a long time.

  * * *

  At certain times during the hours that followed, and throughout the stand-up lunch, Ashley found herself making eye contact with one member of the gathering or another. For a brief moment, there would be a sympathetic look in their eyes, as if they thought they knew exactly what she was experiencing. But although they were undoubtedly well intentioned, she was convinced that they didn’t know.

  They couldn’t possibly.

  She’d been so utterly on her own right from the beginning, from the time she had her first vague memory. There’d been no mother, no father, no grandparent to turn to or to remember.

  This, she couldn’t help thinking, looking around at the various people on the premises, was something unique, something very special. What they had was something she had never had, and thus, they couldn’t understand what she was feeling right at this second.

  Envy and wistfulness.

  “They’re a great bunch of people,” a redheaded woman said as she came up behind her. “Until I met them, I thought people like this existed only in movies and books of fiction wr
itten for young teens.” There was a smile on the woman’s lips that softly whispered of genuine affection when she spoke of the people in the room. “They take you in, no questions asked, no judgments made. They just accept you, warts and all.” She laughed softly to herself. “After having a grandmother who tried to sell me not once but twice—at least, twice that I recall—for drug money, something like the affection these people have for one another—and for you when they take you in—is really something very special.”

  Ashley stared at the young woman. More than the words, she absorbed the sentiment that the woman was conveying.

  The woman’s green eyes sparkled as she smiled. Putting out her hand, she said, “Hi, we haven’t officially met yet. I’m Julianne White Bear Cavanaugh, the chief of D’s daughter-in-law and Frank’s wife,” she added to help Ashley position her in the family dynamics.

  “Ashley St. James,” Ashley said mechanically, although she was rather certain that the woman already knew that. She tried to recall which Cavanaugh was “Frank” and whose son he was. These people should come with name tags. “White Bear, isn’t that—?”

  “Navajo, yes.” Julianne nodded.

  Ashley’s eyes immediately went up to Julianne’s flame-red hair. “But you have—”

  “Red hair,” Julianne completed for her. “Yes, I know. Long story.” One that involved a kindhearted Native American police officer who rescued her from a life of hell. “I’ll tell it to you one day,” she promised. “Uh-oh, I think the chief’s ready.”

  “Ready? Ready for what?” Ashley asked, confused.

  She turned around to see what Julianne was looking at. She realized that the other woman made it sound as if she expected to see her again. Why would she think that? This was all temporary. She was temporarily Shane’s partner and temporarily stepping inside his world, a world he could enjoy anytime he wanted. But she could only visit by invitation, and once they weren’t working together, she was certain that the invitation would be rescinded. After all, why wouldn’t it be?

  Still, she couldn’t help thinking that it was a really wonderful world.

  “You’ll see.”

  Surprised, she nearly jumped. The voice came from behind her. She swung around and saw that Shane was standing there, rejoining her after having stepped away for a few minutes.

  Grinning, he repeated the line that earlier had had her threatening him with bodily harm. But before she could say anything or ask him just what he meant by the phrase this time, he deliberately turned her head with his hands, making her look forward again.

  When she did, she saw that Andrew, flanked by his wife and a man she’d been introduced to earlier as Shane’s grandfather, Shamus, was wheeling in a very long rectangular cake, decorated with pink and blue flowers, on a serving cart. There was writing on it that she couldn’t see, and one very large candle in the middle that she could see.

  Most likely, low-flying planes could see it, too.

  “To commemorate your birthday as well as your first year among us,” Andrew announced, bringing the cart with its precious cargo right up to her. Stopping, he looked around at his family, who needed no invitation to move closer. “Brace yourself,” he warned her. “They’re a great bunch of people, but harmonizing is not something they do well.”

  As if to prove him right, the people who filled the living room and surrounding areas all began to sing “Happy Birthday.” At best, it could be described as a cacophony of words—and she had never heard anything lovelier in her life.

  “Well, it’s a guarantee that no one will ever approach this bunch with a recording contract,” Andrew said as the song faded away. He turned to Ashley and coaxed, “Okay, Ashley, make a wish and blow out the candle.”

  Instead of doing as he urged, Ashley, overcome, suddenly turned away and hurried from the room.

  Shane started to go after her, but Andrew held up his hand to stop him. “Let me,” he told his nephew.

  Frustrated, Shane remained where he was.

  Andrew found her on the patio, an inclement sky threatening to rain on her at any moment.

  “Ashley?” he said softly as he approached. “Are you all right?”

  Her back to him, she raised her hand as if silently asking him to stay back. She didn’t want him to see her crying. Not after he’d gone to all this trouble.

  Andrew stood behind her. He talked to her back. “I know we’re a little overwhelming at first,” he admitted. “But we do grow on you if you give us a chance.”

  She couldn’t allow him to take the blame for her fleeing the way she was. Turning around, wiping away the tears on her cheeks with the backs of her hands, she said, “Nobody has ever been this kind to me. Nobody. I don’t know how to express my thanks. I’ve...I’ve never met people like you before.”

  “You can start by coming back and blowing out your candle,” he told her. “The rest will work itself out. Right now, I’m sure Shane thinks you hate him.”

  “Oh God, no. I—” She stopped herself before she could make a fatal admission. Instead she said, “He’s been very patient with me, putting up with a lot. I could never hate him.”

  “Then come back,” Andrew coaxed, putting his hand out to her.

  After a moment she took it hesitantly and went back with Andrew to the living room.

  Conversation stopped the moment she walked in.

  “She’s agreed to give us another try. This time, I promised we wouldn’t overwhelm her. Don’t make me out to be a liar,” he told his family, taking them all in with one sweeping glance. “Ashley, I believe you have a wish to make.” He gestured toward the cake.

  She clenched her fists at her sides, doing her best not to cry again as she made a wish. The next moment, casting a side glance in Shane’s direction, she took a deep breath and blew out the candle.

  The applause was almost deafening. The sound was immensely comforting to her.

  Andrew’s wife, Rose, held out a knife to her. “You have to cut the first piece, dear,” she prompted.

  Taking the knife, Ashley carefully placed the blade against the top of a corner of the cake. The knife slid through it as if it was slicing softened butter.

  When she finished cutting the piece, she moved it onto a plate.

  “You get the first piece,” Rose told her.

  But Ashley handed the plate to Andrew instead. “No, you do,” she told him, “for doing all this for me. For being kind to a stranger.”

  “Oh, honey.” Teri, Andrew’s middle daughter, laughed. “Dad just loves finding any excuse to throw a party. You just made his day.”

  Ashley surrendered her knife to Rose. “And he made mine,” she said in a voice that was hardly above a whisper.

  Shane stepped in and turned his body toward her in such a way that he managed to temporarily block anyone else from seeing her at the moment.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, concerned. After all, she’d run out of the room crying. He didn’t want her upset, he wanted her happy. “You were crying.”

  “Must be something in the air,” she said with a sniff.

  He was willing to let her hide behind an excuse—for now. “Must be,” he agreed.

  And then she raised her chin defiantly, once again seeking refuge in umbrage the way she usually did. Except that this time, it felt somewhat awkward and stilted. “You could have warned me, you know. Given me some sort of a hint.”

  She was still very much a mystery to him, but this much was clear. “If I had, would you have come?” It was, as far as he was concerned, a rhetorical question.

  “No,” she answered honestly. She would have been too self-conscious, too sure that she was on the receiving end of pity. It took being here in person to realize that none of this was done out of pity, but out of a sense of sharing and warmth—and a genuine desire to make her fe
el wanted and a part of something, for however briefly.

  “And that’s why I didn’t tell you, or give you any kind of a hint,” Shane concluded.

  “Hey, you two, don’t forget to get your pieces,” Lila, Brian’s wife, called over to them. Crossing to where they were standing, she handed a plate to Ashley, then gave the other to Shane. Both pieces were on the large side. “Why don’t you take her into the dining room, Shane?” Lila coaxed. “I think you’ll find a couple of empty chairs there. If not, just tell whoever is sitting there that I said to let you two sit down. The lady of honor shouldn’t have to stand at her own birthday party,” Lila said fondly as she smiled at Ashley.

  Patting her arm, Lila shooed them both out of the room and toward the dining room.

  Her brother-in-law, she was willing to bet, was going to have another wedding in his future to plan.

  In the not-too-distant-future, Lila amended, going off to locate her own prince charming. Brian was far too busy these days, and she just didn’t see enough of him. She intended to make up for it tonight.

  Lila smiled to herself as she withdrew.

  Chapter 16

  “You have an incredibly nice family,” Ashley said to Shane.

  It was hours after she’d made her wish and blown out the candle. The sun had long since gone down. She was sitting in his sedan, being taken back to the precinct to collect her own vehicle and head for home. Farewells and invitations to come back for another visit amid instructions “not to be a stranger, now” were still echoing in her ears.

  She realized that although she knew the evening was over and that spending time with most of his family like this was almost certainly just a one-shot deal, Ashley found that she simply couldn’t help smiling.

  Her birthday wish had involved the impossible. She’d wished she could be part of this terrific family, even though she knew it wasn’t about to happen. The whole day had been magical, and just for a little while, she had allowed herself to believe.