A Home by the Sea

by Christina Skye

  “Meet her? But I don’t—”

  Noah revved the motor, making the snow fly. The big wheels dug in hard, but they didn’t move. As Noah gunned the motor again, a silver Hummer pulled out of a side street and nosed parallel to the now seriously snowbound Jeep. Grace watched the doors open and two very big men jump out.

  She leaned forward, clutching her bundle of babies protectively. “Who are those men?”

  “It’s all right, Grace. You can relax.” Noah grinned at the older man, who was wearing a big Russian fur hat. “The cavalry has just arrived.”

  THEY DIDN’T LOOK LIKE CAVALRY.

  They didn’t look like anything Grace had seen before. The younger man was blond with striking cheekbones and a tan as if he worked outside. His face was unreadable as he pulled open Noah’s door. His wary expression deepened to alarm when he saw Grace hunching protectively over the neatly wrapped bundle on her lap. “Hospital, ASAP,” he snapped decisively. “Why didn’t you go straight to the E.R., Noah? You passed one—”

  Grace shifted in her seat. “No. I mean, it’s not what you think—”

  “No hospital needed. We’re going home,” Noah said firmly. “The women can handle it.” He nodded at Grace.

  “Are you crazy? If you have a baby—” Noah’s brother leaned down and lifted a corner of the coat. A mewing sound filled the car. “Cats?” Reed McLeod straightened slowly, his mouth set in a wry grin. “You’ve got cats,” he repeated. Then he yanked Noah outside into a snowbank.

  A big man, looking like a jolly commissar in his big hat and long coat, watched them mock-box, jumping and shoving each other through the drifts. He shook his head. “Just ignore them,” he said calmly, smiling at Grace. “They are hopeless, I am afraid. Always competing.”

  “I noticed,” she said wryly. This had to be Noah’s father. He looked like a Celtic poet, with eyes the color of a clear highland sky. Grace picked up the hint of an accent in the soft roll of his vowels. “And you must be their father.”

  “I must own up to that, yes. We came to help with your…babies.” He gave a dry laugh. “But we will take you and Noah home now. In a real car,” he added proudly.

  Grace gathered the towel around her precious brood and rolled down the window a little more. “I could use some help. I’ve got a mother cat and four babies in this box and they’re all moving. Do you think you could—”

  She hadn’t finished before the door opened and strong arms lifted her bundle carefully. “Wait for Noah to help you out. These drifts are already up to your knees.” The tall man turned. “Noah, stop fighting with your brother and make yourself useful. Otherwise I will teach you both how to fight for real.”

  Ignoring his warning, Grace stepped out and hissed as her feet sank into an icy drift. “We’re taking your car? The Hummer?”

  “No car is better. It could drive us to Everest if necessary, but fortunately we do not have to go so far.” The tall man glared sternly at his sons. “You two paper-brains, come here now. Help this nice lady before she freezes.”

  Looking sheepish, Noah jumped over a drift and scooped Grace up in his arms. “Sorry. There’s just something about fresh snow.” He gave a crooked grin. “One flake and I have to rub my brother’s face in it. It’s a serious character flaw. But we’ll have you warm and dry shortly.” He frowned as he felt Grace shiver. “Dad will have the heat cranked up to the max, count on it. He may be from Scotland, but he hates the cold.”

  “I don’t hate the cold,” Noah’s father said crisply. “I just prefer to be warm and dry. Now, the lady will go in the front. You two go in back with the animals. And have a care that you don’t crush any of them.”

  Noah settled Grace in the Hummer’s front seat. Then he took the wrapped bundle from his father. “All here and accounted for.” He clipped the seat belt around Grace. “Are you feeling better now?”

  “Much better, thanks. How many inches are we supposed to get tonight?”

  “Twenty-six, last I heard. A real bruiser of a storm.” Noah’s father held out a hand. “I am Alex McLeod. A pleasure to meet you.”

  “Grace Lindstrom. Thanks for rescuing us.”

  “My pleasure. I’ll have us home before my Tatiana’s fried dumplings get cold. It is just over the bridge and a few minutes more.” He shot a measuring glance at his sons. “Mind the young ones. Turn that back heater up so they stay warm. Noah, stay in your Jeep and I will push you over to the curb where it is safe and then we will go home. Meanwhile, no more fighting, you two.”

  Grace hid a smile at the murmured sounds of assent. Clearly Alex McLeod ran a tight ship, but the love between the men was equally clear.

  “You’ve met Noah. My other son is Reed. Two years older, but not much wiser.” Alex nudged the Jeep carefully toward the curb, using the Hummer’s big front fender. When that task was done, he gave a thumbs-up to his son.

  Noah slid into the backseat beside his brother. “Nice job on the Hummer, Dad.”

  “Repaired under schedule and under budget,” Reed said proudly. “Our contract was extended for two years. Anytime you want me to look at your fleet vehicles and give your boss a service estimate, I’d be glad to oblige.”

  Noah shot a glance at Grace. “I’ll pass that on. Money’s a little tight right now.”

  “Where do you work?” Grace’s feet were finally starting to warm up. She tucked them under her and turned back to check on the kittens. Leaning over the seat, she folded down the edge of the towel and caught one wriggling form as it tried to escape beneath Noah’s arm.

  “The building near the corner.”

  “Down the street from the art gallery? The one with the big fence?”

  He nodded.

  Grace noticed he said nothing more. “I saw half a dozen trucks parked in the back. The windows were reinforced with steel bars. Are you in law enforcement?”

  “I work for the government,” Noah said quietly. A look passed between the three men, and he said nothing more to clarify the statement. Grace realized that he wasn’t going to tell her anything else.

  “Hey, get back inside here.” Noah looked down and caught another kitten making a bid for freedom. “These guys are going to be real escape artists. We may need a perimeter gate and security lights.”

  “Mom won’t like it if they pee on her furniture, that’s for sure.” Noah’s older brother crossed his arms, smiling a little. “But that’s one scene I might like to see.”

  “Not in this lifetime. Your mother will know how to handle them,” Alex McLeod murmured. “She raised all kinds of animals when she was a girl.” His voice warmed. “Here we are, Ms. Lindstrom.”

  “Call me Grace, please.”

  “Grace, then, and a warm welcome to our house. Wait, please, so that Reed can help you over the snow.”

  “Reed will not,” Noah said curtly. “Reed will be a good little boy and take the babies inside while I carry Grace over the snow.”

  “Boys. They are always boys,” Alex muttered. He parked the Hummer as easily as if it had been a Prius. At the front door his wife emerged in a hooded coat that looked four sizes too big. Snow dusted her face as she moved onto the front porch. “She was worrying. She always worries.” Alex’s voice filled with love.

  The sound made something tug at Grace’s chest. There were deep emotions here. She could almost feel them tug at the air around her.

  She smiled when Alex leaped out and grabbed his wife, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. “See. I brought them back safely, just as I said.”

  “And if you’ll show some sense, you’ll put me down so we can all get in before we freeze.” His wife’s eyes shone as Alex kissed her. “Enough of that, you big pirate. Was that a cat I heard?”

  “Four of them,” Noah said, scooping Grace up off the front seat. “Grace, meet my mother, Tatiana McLeod. Mom, this is Grace Lindstrom, and there are three kittens, a mother cat and a puppy inside that bundle Reed is carrying.”

  Grace tried to smooth her hair and t
ug down the hem of her black dress, which was difficult considering she was still cradled in Noah’s arms. “I’m sorry to intrude on you like this, Mrs. McLeod.”

  “Intrude? I love guests, and unexpected ones are the best. I heard this storm could go on throughout the night so I’ve been cooking all afternoon. Now we are ready to eat. You can tuck your babies in before the fire. I have some old sweaters we can use for blankets.”

  As soon as they were inside, Tatiana bustled away, giving orders over her shoulder to her two sons.

  The small house was neat as a pin, the living room filled with framed pictures. Folded afghans covered two big wing chairs and a faded chintz couch. Books sat in neat stacks on two end tables, with bookmarks inserted, and a pair of old felted wool slippers sat in front of the fireplace. All these details came to Grace as she heard the happy ring of jokes and questions swirl around her. Energy crackled everywhere, marking the bustle and arguments, measuring the depth of love and sharing in the house.

  It was nothing like Grace’s family. Grace had known unerring love and generosity, but her grandfather always behaved with reticence and careful restraint. Over the years silence had become natural and soothing. People didn’t shove back chairs and run to the door in the Lindstrom house. Adults didn’t jostle and joke, pounding each other on the back in fun. In fact, all the bustle and laughter of Noah’s family made Grace keenly aware that she was an outsider.

  She stared at Noah as he carried her through the living room. “You can put me down now, Noah.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Why?” Grace frowned as he carried her down a hallway covered with more family photos.

  “Because I’m taking you to the kitchen. It’s the warmest room of the house, and my mom has dinner waiting for us. We never keep food waiting.” Noah strode into a big room with wide bay windows overlooking a small backyard. Snow had drifted up, half covering a red wooden fence and most of the branches of the apple trees ranged along one side of the yard. More snow was falling, but inside all was warmth and laughter, and the air was rich with the fragrance of caramelized onions and roasting tomatoes. Little dumplings gleamed, fat and golden, on the stove.

  Grace’s mouth began to water. Fried dumplings were one of her favorite things. And something told her that Tatiana McLeod was an amazing cook. With some luck, Grace might even leave with a few old family recipes.

  Noah set her down, and she moved toward a faded wing chair near the window. “Not there,” he said quietly. “It’s better for you to sit over here, closer to the fire.”

  “Why? Is something wrong?”

  For a moment he hesitated. The pain in his eyes confused Grace. Had she said the wrong thing? “Noah, I don’t want to bother your family. You probably have plans for tonight. Maybe I should go.”

  “There is always room for one more chair at the table,” he said firmly. “A guest is never turned away.”

  The firm tone of his voice made Grace realize this was unswerving ritual, not mere social lip service. This welcome came from old-world hospitality, faithfully preserved in this house. Even if she was an outsider, the knowledge left her feeling a little warmer, harbored against the wind that shook the windows and blanketed the yard with drifts.

  This was a real family. The kind Grace used to dream about as an unhappy child. Here there would be laughter and arguments and cooking together around a big stove. Somewhere over the passing years Grace had forgotten about those childhood dreams.

  “Are your feet cold?” Tatiana McLeod bustled over, drying her hands on a linen towel.

  The woman’s gaze was keen, and Grace felt the force of that scrutiny. “They’re recovering a bit. I smell something wonderful, Mrs. McLeod.”

  “Call me Tatiana, please. You are smelling my varenyky. Dumplings, that is. You maybe call them perogies.”

  “I love fried dumplings. Do you use sauerkraut inside or turnips and onion? Or simply potatoes?”

  “Ah, you know about making varenyky. I am most impressed.”

  “I spent some time in Poland last year. I stayed at the University of Warsaw to study for a month.” Grace did not add that she had written a series of articles for a professional English cooking magazine and had won an award for her series.

  “Really? You must tell me more.”

  “After Poland I visited the Black Sea and was lucky enough to interview the senior chef at the Hotel Odessa. He was a very nice man. He taught me all about varieties of borscht.”

  Noah’s mother looked at Grace with outright surprise. “Not many have the good sense to appreciate borscht or our dumplings.” Tatiana wiped her hands on her apron and smiled slowly. “It appears that you are one of the rare few.”

  Without looking, Tatiana called to her older son, who was in the process of stealing a cookie from the plate near the window. “No snacking, Reed. You will show good manners before our honored guest, please. That is understood?”

  “Yes, Mama.” Reed shook his head. “Although how you have eyes in the back of your head is a mystery to me.”

  “Years of practice, my love. There were times I needed them to survive,” Tatiana said quietly. “But enough of that. The food is ready, so now we will eat.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  IT WAS A SMALL ROOM, filled with the rich smells that came from slow, loving preparations. Noah’s brother sat beside a petite, animated woman who was sliding a toddler into a high chair. Laughter boomed as food was passed around to the accompaniment of praise and loud arguments. Clearly, everyone had an opinion and even the brothers seemed to know a good deal about cooking. Grace hid her surprise, swept up in the conversation swirling around her. This energetic, nonstop drama was nothing like dinner with her grandfather, though she instantly felt guilty for making comparisons.

  Everyone was kind, offering food and including her in the conversation.

  When she had eaten eight perogies and couldn’t eat one more mouthful, Grace excused herself to go check on the kittens in the adjacent den, asleep before the fire in a clean box lined with soft flannel sheets. As she stroked their warm fur, she heard Noah lean down beside her.

  “Everything okay in here?”

  “Just fine. The little ones are sleeping and Mom is getting a well-deserved rest.” Grace smiled as the tiny puppy looked up at Noah and thumped his tail in greeting. “I think he likes you.”

  “Good. Because he’s definitely on my wish list. But that’s your call.” He picked up the puppy, his hands gentle. “You’re something special, aren’t you?”

  Grace heard the rough tenderness in his voice. His words seemed to melt over her skin.

  She pulled away from him, frowning. Angry at herself that she suddenly wanted to lean closer. “Of course you can have him. I couldn’t have got them to safety without you. And it’s clear that he loves you already.” She scratched the puppy gently under the chin. “What are you going to call him?”

  “Ivan.” He saw Grace’s questioning look. “As in The Terrible. Since he looks as sweet as sin.” His long fingers skimmed the puppy’s head.

  Grace couldn’t seem to look away. “Well. That’s…nice,” she said finally.

  Noah shot her a look. “Something tells me that you aren’t used to this kind of chaos. My family gets a bit noisy. At the table you looked a little shell-shocked.”

  “I’m not overwhelmed. And I’m not fragile.” Yet, because she felt fragile at that moment, watching Noah stroke the puppy with those careful hands, Grace took a quick breath and squared her shoulders. “I can take care of myself nicely, thank you.”

  “I didn’t say you couldn’t. I said that you weren’t used to all our noise and bickering. Dad tells me it’s a Ukrainian thing. My mom, on the other hand, insists it’s a Scottish thing,” he added drily. “So do you have a big family?”

  Grace shook her head. “My grandfather is all. He likes things calm and orderly. Everything in its place.”

  Noah sat down beside her on the rug. “Sounds nice.” He put the puppy
carefully back in the box. “You’re only staying here in D.C. temporarily, you said. What’s your next assignment?”

  “I have a magazine article to finish in Chicago and two workshops to teach in Oregon. Then probably three months in Paris.”

  Noah gave a low whistle. “Impressive. But all that travel is going to put a kink in my plan to take you out to dinner.” He gave her a steady, straightforward look. “You’re not involved with anyone, I hope.”

  She wasn’t—and she didn’t want to become involved. But how was she going to extricate herself without being terribly rude?

  Grace ran a hand through her hair, choosing her words carefully. “I…I was involved with someone. He was English. Wonderful. We were going to be married.” Her hands tightened, and she forced them to relax. “It didn’t work out.”

  “Sorry to hear it. What happened?” Noah asked quietly.

  “Isn’t that a little personal?”

  “Probably. But as you can see, my family doesn’t stand on ceremony. So feel free to tell me to shut up and mind my own business.”

  Grace looked out the window at the snow. “What happened was that his airplane was shot down while he was on a diplomatic mission in the Sudan. That was sixteen months ago.”

  “I’m really sorry, Grace. Losing him like that—well, it must have been horrible.” Noah studied her face. “You two should have had a lot of happy years in front of you. Probably four or five kids in the works.”

  In the works.

  Grace closed her eyes tightly, imagining snow swirling against the window. She had wanted children badly. She had wanted a little house with roses at the front door and a knitted afghan on every armchair. She had wanted truth and laughter and trust.

  Instead—there had been a thousand deceptions.

  James had destroyed their chances when he’d had his first affair. And through each following affair another piece of their future had died. And through it all Grace hadn’t guessed a thing.

  But she wouldn’t share those details with a stranger.