A Valentine's Quest (The Valentine's Trilogy)

by Sam E. Kraemer

  "Hey! I help when I'm home," Quinn protested.

  Marisol smiled at him and took his hand, kissing the top of it. "Yes, my big, strong warrior, you do, but you've been putting in a lot of hours at the garage so we can bankroll some money for after the babies get here. I'm just teasing you."

  Quinn nodded in agreement as Gray placed a large casserole on the table. He then placed a bowl of collards and a bowl of some sort of carrots that smelled heavenly.

  "What's the casserole?" I asked as he began filling plates for the kids.

  "Broccoli, chicken, cheese, and rice. The collards were made by Miss Miriam, but I made the carrots. Dig in while it's hot, everyone."

  Just then a timer went off. "Oh, fu…dang. Derek, can you get the biscuits?"

  I nodded and hopped up from the table, grabbing a potholder. I pulled out an iron skillet full of biscuits with cheese on top. Everything looked and smelled amazing.

  Everyone dove in with gusto, including me. I watched Gray helping Michael with his food so Quinn and Mari could eat a hot meal. Michael seemed to have an aversion to the collards, and when Gray tasted them, I could see he wasn't a fan either so I didn't take any. The carrots, though, the kid went crazy for them. When I tasted them; I got it. They had a little bit of a sweet taste to them along with a tang of sour, and they were delicious.

  Everyone ate until they had their fill, and after we cleaned up the dishes and helped Quinn get the kids bathed and settled into bed, we said our good-nights. Gray promised to stop by on Saturday morning to help Mari with something for the babies' room while Quinn and I put together baby furniture. Miriam and Tom were planning to take the kids to a holiday fair somewhere, so we were going to be kid-free which would allow us to get a lot done. Gray was just like me in that he’d do anything to help our friends with whatever they needed to be done because we loved them. I was grateful my partner understood it in me and was supportive.

  ##

  I woke up alone Thanksgiving morning, not happily. When I felt Gray's side of the bed, it was cold so I knew he was likely downstairs with Mom, and I worried what the hell might be going on. I hurried through my morning routine, saving the shower for later where I hoped Gray would join me.

  I dressed and pulled my hair back into the well-used, leather wrap while rushing down the stairs, hearing an unsettling silence in the kitchen. After a few seconds, I heard my mother say, "Miriam, you can't behave that way and expect to have a good relationship with your children. Why, if I did that to Derek or Cara, they'd never come to town to see me. You can't ride roughshod over what goes on in Quinn and Marisol's home. Besides, your grandson needs this special therapist, and God knows you and Tom can afford to pay for it."

  I was a bit shocked overhearing my mother’s side of the conversation, which I was guessing was about little Michael’s therapy and the possibility it would come to a halt after Mari had the babies.

  I didn't know how Mom had found out Quinn and Mari were going to need help to pay for it, nor how Quinn would take the news when he found out Miriam knew about the therapy issue as well. I was pretty sure my ass was gonna be on the hot seat though I hadn’t said a word.

  I walked into the kitchen, seeing Gray cutting vegetables at the island while Mom was breaking up stale bread as she continued to talk with Miriam. I was shocked Mom had allowed him to help out at all, but the two of them seemed to be up to their eyeballs in cooking.

  Gray glanced up, smiling at me. He motioned me over, and I didn't hesitate to snuggle up to his side. I kissed his cheek and whispered," Why didn't you wake me? I'd have loved to play around a little bit in my boyhood bedroom before we had to be with these guys."

  "Gray, stir the broth," Mom ordered, still on the phone.

  "Right, Addy. Got it," he said as he grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred a pot on the stove, turning down the heat as the pot was about to boil over.

  After it was under control, he turned to me and smiled. "Sorry, babe, but your mom wants to get the turkey in the oven, and I promised to help her." I glanced at Mom, seeing her still tearing bread and listening on the phone.

  "When did that happen?" I asked. When we returned to the house the night before, everyone was in bed. The Mercedes Cara's man had driven was parked in front of Dad’s side of the garage, so I assumed they'd come to some sort of a truce. I presumed it was amicable since I didn't see any blood splatter when we walked inside.

  “We’re slowly working to forge a relationship, I hope,” Gray whispered. I glanced up to see my mother walk into the hallway with the phone on her shoulder.

  I took the knife from Gray’s hand and placed it on the cutting board, pulling him into my body. “I really appreciate the fact you’re trying, but don’t be too disappointed if she turns on you. It’s happened to all of us at one time or another. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you. It’s just her way.

  “Besides, I’ll always love you,” I whispered into his ear before I kissed my way back to his sexy lips, slipping my tongue inside his mouth to taste the sweetness that was my Gray. I could never get enough of it, and I didn’t care who was around to witness it.

  Seven

  Gray

  (Meanwhile…)

  "A relationship outside of Derek? What do you mean, Mari?" I asked. I kind of had an idea, but being a man, I was prone to jump to the wrong conclusions. When it came to Addy, I didn't want to fuck it up.

  I learned that Marisol, being very pregnant, was quite easy to rile. "Good God. Seek her out for advice and suggestions. Much like Miri Tucker, Addy Valentine prides herself on being a mother. If you treat her like a mother and ask her opinion on things, you'll see a marked change in her treatment of you, mijo.

  "Right now, she sees you as a rival for Derek's attention. You show her you respect her place in Derek's life and would appreciate her advice with regard to what’s in the best interest of her son? You will wrap that woman around your finger, I swear.

  “I know for a fact she likes you because I hear about it from Miri in my near daily calls from her to see if I’m caring for my children and her poor, helpless son. Addy's going to test you until she's comfortable with the place you and Derek make for her in your life. Been there…done that…"

  Suddenly, the lightbulb went off over my head, and immediately, I knew she was right. "Oh! Okay, may I use your phone?"

  Mari smiled. "You bet, sweetie. Speed dial four." She rose from her chair and waddled down the hall. I did as she suggested and paced the kitchen after pressing the speed dial and waited for someone to answer.

  It rang twice, and when Addy answered, I could tell she wasn't happy. "Marisol, dear, can I call you back in a little while? I'm in the middle of something."

  "Miss Addy, it's me, Gray. I was calling to ask if perhaps you could suggest something I could make for the Tuckers for dinner. Quinn seems to be a little overwhelmed, and I thought maybe I could help ease his burden by doing a little clean-up and making dinner for the family, but I'm at a loss. You know the kids better than me, and I don't want to make something they won't eat, so can you make any suggestions?" I offered, feeling my throat dry as dust as I waited for her to call me a moron.

  After a moment, she cleared her throat. "Oh! Uh, go to the fridge and tell me what's inside. I’m not sure how often Marisol gets to the store now that she’s on bed rest, and God help her if Quinn is doing the shopping. We'll come up with something, together," she suggested, sounding very happy to be asked to offer suggestions.

  I relayed the contents of the fridge as I turned bottles and open containers, and when I found some leftover grilled chicken breasts and fresh broccoli, Addy gave me a recipe for a casserole she said she was sure the Tucker kids would love. She asked about sides, and I told her what I had at my disposal. "I've got carrots, and I actually have a pretty good recipe for sweet and sour carrots." I told her the recipe and could hear her humming in approval, much to my relief.

  "There's also something," I began as I pulled out a Rubbermaid container with
something green in it. I opened it and smelled it, wincing at the vinegar smell and not finding it particularly appealing to my tastes. "There are greens of some kind with what appears to be ham. Uh, it's not my taste, but…"

  Addy huffed. "That's Miriam's collard greens. I'll teach you to make them right if you'd like. Derek loves them when they're done properly, but Miri's are always bitter because she uses too much…well, I’ll teach you the right way. I think Quinn likes them, so heat them up, and taste them so you know what they shouldn't taste like. I think that'll do well for them, and there will be very little leftovers because those children, along with Quinn and Derek, have very healthy appetites. I know they're going to Miri's tomorrow for dinner, so they'll need the room for leftovers, which will do Marisol a favor. Your very kind doing this for them, Gray. I know they’ll be pleased with dinner."

  I exhaled, grateful for Marisol’s excellent advice with regard to the care and handling of Addy Valentine. "Thank you so much for helping me because I didn't want to bother Mari while she's supposed to be resting. Would it be more convenient if we just ate here? I mean, I know you're trying to deal with the situation at your home, so maybe Derek and I should stay here and help with the kids to give Quinn and Mari a break?" I asked.

  "I think that's a wonderful idea. I know Marisol needs the rest, and Quinn works so many hours while they’re trying to get ready for the babies. I'm sure they'll appreciate any help you can offer. We'll see you boys in the morning. Thanks for calling, Gray," Addy told me. We said good-bye and hung up.

  By then, Marisol had waddled back into the kitchen, and as I looked at her, she was smiling. "Told ya so," she taunted as she did a little dance while holding onto her large baby hill…it couldn’t be called a bump for anything. I was giggling so hard, but I could still stick out my tongue at her as I went about my business to make dinner for the wonderful new friends I’d acquired when I met the man I believed I was born to love.

  Later that night, Derek and I fell into bed, both of us exhausted at all of the activity involved in getting the Tucker kids bathed and bedded, stories included and lots of hugs which made me smile. Once we hit the sheets, I immediately dozed off and slept like the dead until I heard noises downstairs at about five in the morning. I had a pretty good idea what was happening, so I slipped out of bed and dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. I pulled on a pair of Derek's wool, hunting socks…which were much larger than my size nine feet…and I slowly walked downstairs to see Addy wrestling with a turkey.

  "Miss Addy, you're gonna pull somethin'," I told her quietly because the rest of the house was dead asleep.

  I took it from her and asked, "Where would you like it?"

  "In the sink, please. I had the damn thing in the brine since yesterday morning and I need to rinse it. Rick helped me get it in there, but I didn't want to wake him to help me take it out. I didn’t wake you, did I?"

  I took the bucket from where she'd pulled the turkey and picked it up. "You didn't wake me, ma'am. I was hoping you'd let me watch you make Thanksgiving dinner, as a matter of fact. That casserole I made last night for the Tuckers was a big hit, so I'm hoping you'll maybe share a few recipes with me Derek might like so I can make him some of his favorites back in Houston.

  “He always speaks so highly of the meals you served when he was growing up, and I really want to offer him some semblance of home. I know he misses you and Rick, and I hoped maybe if I made him a favorite you prepared every once in a while, it might make him happy," I embellished.

  Derek Valentine had never turned away one thing I made for him, but it couldn’t hurt to engage his mother in a little cooking lesson to make her feel her son missed her and enjoyed the visits when he came back to Waco.

  She smiled but then adopted a blank look for my benefit. "Okay, but if you wanna watch the show, you have to pay the price of admission. Go dump that brine water into the compost heap in the yard and rinse the bucket out by the garage before you bring it back inside. I'll get Derek to put it away downstairs. You can be my helper to make dinner, and I'll tell you a few stories if you're interested," she offered with a sly smile which I was sure not everyone had the privilege of witnessing.

  I nodded and did as she instructed. When I got back to the kitchen, she had a mountain of veggies stacked for me to chop, so I washed my hands and dried them on a paper towel. "Start with these?"

  "Yes. Small, diced pieces because they're for the stuffing. So, how was Marisol when you were there? She’s been having some complications," Addy enquired.

  I thought about it for a minute and saw it was her attempt at starting a discussion between the two of us, which I very much wanted to have, so I dove in. "She seemed okay while we were there, but I think she's ready for the babies to make an appearance. She looked tired, but with those two babies inside her, I can imagine it’s not too easy to get a peaceful night’s sleep," I offered.

  With that, our conversation took off. Addy allowed me into her private world of cooking for the family she loved so very much; the things she worried about regarding her family and their happiness; and her concerns over Cara's "man."

  "He's much too old for my beautiful daughter, and he seems to think he's going to dictate the way the two of them are going to live their lives without any input from Cara at all, the pompous jackass. He was talking about the wedding being in Connecticut, for God's sake. The wedding is the bride's parents' responsibility, but that insensitive jerk said his people were taking care of it? He actually had the audacity to say he knew we couldn't afford to have the kind of wedding his family would expect, so they'd take care of the expenses? The nerve of that arrogant ass," she complained.

  Ah, so the night hadn't exactly gone well? I hated to say it, but the turn of events quite possibly could direct Addy Valentine’s support in my favor. "So, uh, when's the wedding? Have they set a date?"

  She looked at me and scoffed. "If they go through with a wedding without any input from me, then I don't care when or where they have it. I've had plans for Cara's wedding since she was a little girl, and I'm sure these uppity, Connecticut people won't allow any of our traditions at the ceremony, so I'm not sure I'll go."

  I decided not to weigh in because I was sure it was a knee-jerk reaction on her part and Addy would change her mind if the wedding ever took place. I sidestepped giving away my position on the matter by just nodding, kind of sideways so I wasn’t actually agreeing or disagreeing before I changed the subject. "I'm going to assume you make your own stock?"

  Addy glanced at me and then at the vegetables mounded on the cutting board where I was prepared to begin chopping. "Damn. Take half of those carrots, celery, and onions, and just rough chop them before you put them in a stock pot with the neck and giblets. When Cara or Rick gets up, I'll send them to the store for more vegetables. This thing with Cara has me all flustered and I forgot about the stock."

  "Miss Addy, I'll chop all this and get it started for you, and then I’ll run to the store when it opens. We should probably let Cara sleep because she's percolating your grandchild," I reminded.

  I watched as she washed her hands, leaving the turkey in the sink with water running on it. She reached up with a paper towel and touched her eyes. She was trying not to let me see, so I turned my head to allow her privacy.

  "So, can I ask about Derek as a little boy?" I was attempting to change the subject again, and when she laughed a little, I believed maybe I’d once again scored. For the next two hours, she told me stories about Derek…how clumsy he was when he was learning to walk…how he didn't sleep through the night until he was nearly eleven months’ old…how he got his front baby teeth knocked out when he got hit in the mouth with a rock Quinn was trying to skim across a pond.

  She told me about the growth spurt he had when he was fourteen, and how his arms and legs used to keep him awake at night because of the pain associated with rapidly growing bones. She said she used to heat towels in the microwave to wrap around his limbs to try to help with th
e pain, and how she cried because she couldn't stand to see her son suffering.

  During our discussion, we continued to chop and sauté without much thought. She told me what she needed done, and I did it, gladly. At eight, she turned to me. "Run to the store and grab more carrots, celery, and Spanish onions. Also, can you get more fresh parsley?"

  I nodded and went to the hallway to pull on my sneakers. I grabbed Derek's jacket from the hook, finding the keys for the Camaro inside, and off to the market I went…

  ##

  I was just back from the store when the phone rang. Addy hissed a little before she stated, "Dear God, don't people respect the holidays?" She then answered the phone, and based on what I overheard, it was Miriam Tucker and the volume I heard through the phone alerted me, she wasn't happy about something.

  Addy listened for a few minutes, before she said, "Let me call you back after I get my turkey in the oven. Calm down, Miri, before you have a heart attack."

  After Derek’s mother hung up the phone, she turned to me. "You were at Quinn's home last night. How's Michael doing? Quinn and Marisol have him in special therapy to help with his speech and his mobility. Miri says it's helping a lot, but Quinn called her this morning to ask about what time for dinner, and he told her they would have to stop the therapy after the babies are born because they’ll no longer have the extra money. Is that true? Was the therapy helping little Michael so much it would be detrimental of they stopped it for a while?"

  I finished dicing onions and turned to look at her, wiping away the onion-invoked tears. "He’s improved since the last time I saw him, and I hate to hear they have to stop his therapy.

  “Michael seemed to be able to get around better yesterday. The kids were kicking a ball, and he was having a great time without Quinn's help. He was running and playing with his brothers and sister, and he was so happy. He was also a lot more vocal when I engaged him in conversation," I explained to her.