She waited, desperately wanting her words to sink in, praying for a response.
Instead, all he said was goodbye.
“I love you, Connor,” she said, hoping he’d stayed on the line long enough to hear her, hoping he believed she meant it.
She closed her cell phone, tucked it in her pocket, then let her tears fall.
* * *
By the time Megan gathered her composure, a few early-bird family members had started to arrive. Nell had once again taken charge in the kitchen, ordering everyone around with the efficiency and determination of a drill sergeant.
The kitchen table groaned under the weight of pies, bowls of homemade cranberry relish, trays of rolls ready for the oven, casseroles filled with sweet potatoes topped with marshmallows or green beans. Megan breathed in the once-familiar scents with satisfaction.
“I’ve missed this,” she told Nell. “Nothing smells like your kitchen on Thanksgiving morning.”
“You don’t object to me taking over?” Nell asked. “This should be your domain now.”
“It will always be yours,” Megan contradicted. “Even if you decide to move back to your own cottage, when it comes to family occasions, I will always gladly defer to you. I never did have the knack of organizing meals for a family this size, especially on holidays. I could barely get supper on the table when it was just the kids and me.”
Nell gave her a disbelieving look. “Don’t be downplaying your cooking skills just to placate me. You’re a fine cook.”
“Maybe of a few basics,” Megan conceded. “But you’re the one with the real flair for entertaining so many people and making it look easy. Now, tell me what I can do to help.”
“The twins set the table last night. I didn’t want to insult them by hovering, but I took a look after they went home,” Nell said with an amused shake of her head. “It could use a finishing touch. Would you mind?”
“Absolutely not,” Megan said, grateful to have a task that would give her some time on her own. Her emotions were still raw after her conversation with Connor. The longer she had to pull herself together before facing Mick or her far-too-intuitive daughters, the better. One thing that conversation had done was to add more reinforcement to her determination to postpone the wedding.
She was in the dining room straightening place settings and folding the napkins more neatly, when Carrie and Caitlyn bounded in with their usual exuberance. Nine now, the twins still wore matching outfits much of the time, but their personalities were so unique, it made telling them apart easy enough. She smiled at the sight of them in their fancy dresses with lace at the collar and their shiny Mary Jane shoes. They were dressed like perfect little ladies, but their expressions were pure imp.
“Don’t you look beautiful,” she said. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Caitlyn replied dutifully, though she looked as if she were bursting at the seams to talk about something else. She was bouncing on her tiptoes and looking at her sister, who regarded Megan solemnly.
“Grandma Megan, me and Caitlyn need to talk to you about something really, really important,” Carrie said.
“Okay,” Megan replied, hunkering down in front of them. “Tell me.”
“Can Caitlyn and me be in the wedding?” Carrie asked in a rush, her eyes bright with excitement. “We’ve been flower girls before, but we think we’re too big for that now. We should probably be bridesmaids.”
“And we want to wear red velvet dresses,” Caitlyn chimed in. “Mommy says it’ll clash with our red hair, but we don’t care. Red’s our very favorite color. And it’s a Christmas color, so it’s perfect.” She regarded Megan hopefully. “Don’t you think so?”
Abby walked in just in time to overhear. “Girls, didn’t I tell you that you should wait to see what your grandmother wants for her wedding? It’s her big day and she probably has her own ideas.”
“But she needs to know how really, really important this is to us,” Carrie argued. “Otherwise, how can she decide what kind of wedding to have?”
Mick had warned Megan about this, but she hadn’t been prepared for how awful it would feel to disappoint Carrie and Caitlyn when their hearts were set on this holiday-season wedding. She gave Abby a helpless look, then faced her granddaughters.
“As soon as I start focusing on my wedding plans, I promise I’ll think about your offer, girls,” she assured them.
“But aren’t you planning now?” Caitlyn asked, looking puzzled. “It’s only a little while till New Year’s Eve. I looked at one of Mom’s bridal magazines. There’s a lot to do for a wedding. I could help you make a list.”
“There is a lot to do,” Megan agreed. “And I will certainly appreciate your help when the time comes. Now why don’t you track down your Grandpa Mick? I think he bought a new game for you to play while we’re getting dinner ready.”
“Grandpa Mick’s watching football,” Caitlyn said, sounding despondent. “So are Trace and Uncle Jake and Uncle Kevin. We can’t find Uncle Connor anywhere. He’s the one who usually plays with us.”
Abby directed an apologetic look toward Megan, then frowned at her daughters. “I told you Uncle Connor might not be here,” she said. “Now scoot.”
“But it’s Thanksgiving,” Carrie protested. “Everybody comes for Thanksgiving!”
Abby scowled. “Go find your grandfather and Trace. Tell them they have to set up a game for all you kids to play. Tell them your mother said so.”
After the girls had scampered off, Megan sank down on a chair. Abby sat next to her.
“I’m sorry, Mom. They don’t realize that Connor’s being a gigantic pain.”
“He’s entitled to his feelings,” Megan said. “You all are.”
“But the rest of us have seen that there are two sides to the story. You’ve worked really hard to reconnect with us.”
“And apparently I haven’t worked hard enough to reconnect with Connor.” She glanced at Abby. “I called him this morning. I asked one more time that he reconsider and come home today. He turned me down.”
“Of course he did. He never could back down once he’s taken a stance,” Abby said. “After we get through today, I intend to track him down myself and tell him what I think of his behavior.”
Megan gave her a wry look. “Do you honestly think that will help?”
“Probably not,” Abby conceded. “But I’ll feel better.”
“It’s not about you feeling better,” Megan reminded her oldest daughter. “It’s about getting Connor on board with your father and me reconciling.” She lifted her chin. “Which is why I’ve told your father we need to postpone the wedding.”
Abby looked stricken. “Mom, no!”
“I’m not bending on this. It’s the right thing to do,” Megan insisted. “Maybe it’s even for the best. I was so sure your father had changed, but the past few days, I don’t know, he still likes to do everything on his own terms.”
“Meaning?”
“For starters, he went ahead and leased a place on Shore Road for the art gallery without even consulting me. He said it was a wedding present.”
“Okay,” Abby said slowly, clearly not understanding the problem. “Is there something wrong with the space?”
“No, it’s perfect, but it’s way too expensive. I certainly couldn’t have afforded to lease it on my own.”
Abby continued to look confused. “It sounds as if he wanted to do something nice for you.”
“He did,” Megan said. “I can see that, but I also see that he’s going about things in his usual style, as if what I think doesn’t matter.”
“I suppose I can see your point, but that’s just one thing, Mom. Maybe you’re being too hard on him. You know he’s changed. We’ve all seen that. Leasing a store space for you sounds really thoughtful.”
Megan regarded her quizzically. “Abby, you know how your father is. Do you honestly think I’m making too much of him making decisions like this without even speaking to me?”
“To be perfectly honest, I do. Didn’t you leave him years ago because he was being thoughtless and neglectful? Now he’s stepping up to be the kind of man you always said you wanted, and you’re criticizing him for that, too.”
Megan winced. “In other words, I’m being ungrateful and sending contradictory messages.”
“Seems that way to me. As for postponing the wedding because of Connor, don’t let him have that power over you,” Abby pleaded. “If he sees weakness, he’ll use it to get his way. That’s why he’s such a good lawyer. He knows exactly how to exploit his opponent’s weaknesses.”
“It just makes me so sad knowing that I’ve chased him away on a day like today and that he won’t be here for the wedding because he objects to it so strenuously.”
“Forget today. Dad’s more responsible for Connor not being here than you are. As for the wedding, there’s still plenty of time before New Year’s Eve. I imagine the rest of us can be pretty persuasive if we put our minds to it. Connor will be here.”
Megan gave her a wry look. “I’m not sure I want him coming just because you all have ganged up on him and bullied him into it.”
Abby grinned. “What if we make him think it’s his idea?”
Megan shook her head. “Christmas is a time of miracles, but I doubt if you can pull that off even then.”
* * *
Amazingly, with the house filled with so many people, virtually no one mentioned Connor or his absence. Even when Jeff arrived with his family and Thomas showed up moments later, Connor’s name never crossed anyone’s lips. Megan suspected they’d been warned to avoid the subject. It was a rare display of sensitivity from a family known for blurting out whatever was on their minds.
Though she was grateful not to have Connor’s actions dissected, Megan felt guilty knowing that they were censoring themselves because of her. Worse, she couldn’t get past the image of Connor somewhere all alone on a holiday. Hopefully he was at least sharing the day with friends. She hadn’t even given up on the hope that he’d have a change of heart and join them.
She went back onto the porch, staring out into the gathering darkness, hoping to see headlights coming up the coastal highway. She was battling disappointment when someone scooped her up from behind and twirled her around.
“Megan O’Brien, I never thought I’d live to see you back in this house again,” Thomas said, beaming as he set her back on her feet. “Are you sure you want to go another round with that obstinate brother of mine when I’m available?”
Megan laughed at his teasing. Thomas’s lighthearted banter had always raised her spirits, and she’d known never to take his flirtatious remarks to heart. Mick was capable of blarney, but Thomas had raised it to an art form.
“If there’s one thing I know about you,” she told him now, “it’s that you’re every bit the workaholic your brother used to be. Why would I let myself in for that again?”
“And you think Mick has reformed?” Thomas asked skeptically.
“I know he has,” she said with confidence.
Mick emerged from the house in time to overhear. He scowled at his younger brother with mock indignation. “Are you out here trying to steal my woman?” he demanded. “Why would she want you? You’re hardly a prize.”
“But I am handsome and charming and will treat her like a queen,” Thomas claimed, giving Megan a wink.
Mick put a possessive arm around her waist. “Go find your own woman, if you can. Those two wives of yours didn’t leave you for no reason. Obviously you have a few serious flaws that exceed even mine.”
Thomas didn’t look offended by the jab. For one thing, they all knew Mick’s remark was true. For another, Thomas was used to Mick taking any opportunity to take a genial poke at him.
“Pot calling the kettle black,” Thomas retorted. “Megan had plenty of reasons to walk out on you, as well.”
Listening to them, she shook her head. “It’s lovely to see that you two still squabble like little boys,” she told them. “Shouldn’t one of you be more mature by now?”
“I hope I never get so old that I can’t take on the likes of him,” Mick said.
“Age and maturity are two different matters,” Thomas commented. “I’m not surprised you didn’t know that, big brother.”
Megan laughed. “If Nell overhears the two of you, you’ll wind up eating Thanksgiving dinner all alone in the kitchen. She won’t tolerate fussing at her table.” She studied the two men. “I thought you reached some kind of truce when you were both conspiring to get Kevin and Shanna together.”
“Now that was a worthy cause,” Thomas said. “Kevin comes to work happy every day now. He’s not the sad, broken man he was after Georgia died.”
“Amen to that,” Mick said in a rare display of consensus.
“There now,” Megan said happily. “See how easy it is to get along? Let’s go inside for dinner right this second, before this jovial mood wears off. See if you can’t carry it over to include Jeff, as well.”
“Now you’re just dreaming,” Mick said, but he gave her a smile that belied his words. He’d keep the peace today, because it was what Nell expected and what the occasion deserved.
As they walked into the jam-packed dining room, they found chaos. Even though there was plenty of room at the table for everyone, the kids especially were jockeying for position as if they feared being left out. The parents were making a mostly futile effort to bring order. It was Nell who tapped on a crystal goblet until she finally had everyone’s attention.
“Did you not see the place cards I put on this table just to avoid this kind of scene?” she inquired. “Now find your places quietly, or you’ll eat in the kitchen.” She gave all of them a stern look. “And I’m not just warning the children, either.”
To Megan’s amusement, order reigned immediately. Nell might be diminutive, but her words carried weight with this family. Megan noted that even though Nell expected her sons to get along, she’d been careful to keep them well separated. It was easy enough to do, given the size of the crowd.
They had all barely settled down and Mick was about to say grace, when the doorbell rang. Megan’s spirits immediately rose, even though the likelihood of Connor ringing the doorbell, rather than walking in, was slight.
“I’ll get it,” she said, then hurried into the foyer.
She opened the front door still half expecting to find Connor, but instead she found a pretty young woman with blond hair, sad eyes and an infant in her arms. Wrapped in a blue blanket and wearing a warm blue jacket, the baby looked to be at least six months old, possibly older, and, to Megan’s shock, there was no mistaking the coal-black hair and striking blue eyes of the child as anything other than an O’Brien’s.
She opened the door wider and stepped aside, determined to be gracious despite her shock and confusion. “Come in. Please. It’s far too chilly for the baby to be outside.”
The young woman shook her head. “I can’t stay,” she said, then held the bundled-up baby out toward Megan.
Instinctively, Megan took the boy into her arms, cradling him against her chest. He squirmed in protest, but quieted as she rubbed his back.
“I don’t understand,” she said, her gaze on the woman’s face. “Why are you here?”
“Because of the baby. He needs his father,” she said, already taking a step back.
It was every bit as bad as Megan had feared. “Don’t you want to come in and talk about this?”
“No.” She cast a look of longing at the baby. “His name’s Mick,” she said, leaving Megan’s breath lodged in her throat. “Michael Devlin O’Brien, actually.”
His name was Mick? How could that possibly be? Megan’s thoughts reeled.
The solemn little boy in Megan’s arms stirred at the mention of his name and reached for his mother, but she was already at the bottom of the steps.
She swallowed hard, and her eyes shimmered with tears. “Tell his father I love him, but I can’t do this alone.”
Megan gasped, even though she’d been anticipating something like that from the moment she’d laid eyes on the child.
The woman gave her a pleading look. “Please take care of my son. Someday tell him that his mom loved him enough to let him go.”
Before Megan could utter a single word, the woman turned and ran off into the night. A moment later, still standing there in shock, Megan heard a car start, then saw headlights wind down the long driveway to the coastal road.
She stared down at the now-whimpering child, her heart aching for too many reasons to count. Worst of all, it seemed she didn’t know her soon-to-be-husband, ex-husband, whatever, half as well as she’d thought she did.
7
Mick took one look at Megan’s ashen face and the infant in her arms and bolted from his chair. He went to her side, but she turned away from him. It was clear she was furious with him for some reason. Mick couldn’t make any sense of it, not her attitude and definitely not the sudden appearance of this baby.
“What the devil?” he demanded, even as the child started crying in earnest.
Though she was clearly as perplexed as he was, Abby stood and calmly took the boy from her mother, then scowled at Mick. “Lower your voice, Dad. You’re scaring him.”
Apparently sensing that things were about to get wildly out of hand, Jess quickly came around the table to Abby’s side. Like the rest of them, she seemed unable to tear her gaze away from the baby who seemed so obviously to be an O’Brien.
“Why don’t I take him?” Jess offered. “There’s bound to be something I can mash up for him to eat, while you all sort this out. Do we have any baby bottles, Gram?”
A Chesapeake Shores Christmas Page 8
