His Texas Christmas Bride (Celebrations, Inc 9)

by Nancy Robards Thompson

  She’d rather cook than clean up, anyway. And with Nick here, she’d have a good reason to leave the cleanup to Rosanna. Becca’s stomach gave a nervous turn when she remembered running into Rosanna at the mall. Of course, there was the little matter of the little white lie she’d told when Rosanna had been quizzing her about why she was browsing in the baby department. There would be hell to pay for that one.

  For a moment Becca contemplated pulling Rosanna aside and sharing the news with her before she and Nick told the rest of the family. But as quickly as the idea presented itself, Becca decided against it. She wanted to keep today as uncomplicated as possible. Despite how her parents had mandated that she and Nick announce their news to the rest of the family today, they were onboard with it. It made sense. The next time the entire family would be together would be Christmas.

  She wanted to share the news with her friends. Since Celebration was such a small town, if she did that, a family member was bound to find out. She wouldn’t want to receive news like that secondhand. So this was a do unto others as she would hope that they would do for her sort of decision. But Rosanna could be such a loose cannon, if Becca tried to appease her, she might end up spilling the beans before Becca and Nick had a chance to make the announcement. Faced with the potential fallout of that and her sister’s inevitable protests that Becca had lied to her, Becca was better prepared to deal with Rosanna.

  All she had to say to her sister about that day at the mall was she didn’t want to tell her about the babies until she and Nick had told Mom and Dad.

  Becca was surprised how fast time flew. She’d been busy in the kitchen all afternoon—even if her mother had insisted that she stay seated. It was amazing what could be accomplished at the kitchen table. Now it was seven-fifteen, and Victor had been enlisted by his grandmother to round up the crew and instruct them to wash their hands and be at their respective places at the table—there were place cards for the assigned seating, and Victor had a list and was to help them find their way. His chest was puffed out with the importance of this job that allowed him to tell the adults what to do, for a change, rather than being bossed by the adults.

  As her mother placed the turkey on the serving tray, Becca was anxiously aware that Nick had not yet arrived.

  An unsettled wave of apprehension washed over her. What if he’d changed his mind? What if he wasn’t coming?

  That was a ridiculous thought. Had Nick let her down yet?

  No. But after Tuesday night’s interrogation, she really wouldn’t blame him if he decided to skip the Flannigan’s annual turkey brawl.

  Come on, Becca. Buck up. He had to work until seven. Maybe something came up.

  Like a better offer.

  No. That was decidedly not the man she’d fallen in love with. He’d been her rock, her touchstone. While she knew she was capable of breaking the news of the pregnancy to her family, she had liked the idea of him standing beside her, helping her set the tone, when they made the announcement.

  As the parade of side dishes, dinner rolls and condiments started to roll toward the table, Becca slipped off to check her phone. Just in case.

  Her heart nearly stopped when she saw the text from Nick.

  Sorry for the late notice. I have an emergency and I can’t get away from the hospital. Will try to stop by later if it’s not too late. Please give your parents my regrets. Happy Thanksgiving.

  Chapter Nine

  Nick steered his car onto the Flannigans’ paved circular driveway and parked behind a dark Toyota Prius.

  After work, he’d gone home to take a quick shower and trade his scrubs for a pair of black pants and a button-down. He swapped out the Harley for the Jeep before going to Thanksgiving dinner. He’d done it for Becca’s sake more than anything. After meeting Isabel and Patrick and informing them that their daughter was having his babies, he’d come away with the impression that they’d like him even less if he showed up on a bike.

  He wasn’t trying to impress them or win them over. Her mother had already proven she could be a handful, and Nick simply didn’t want to add fuel to the fire.

  That was all right. He was in a good mood. He always was after he saved someone’s life.

  He grabbed the bottle of merlot he’d bought for the occasion and headed up the porch steps that led to the front door of the two-story brick home.

  This was the home where Becca had grown up.

  Before he reached the porch, he wondered which window had been hers and how many boys might have stood below it and tossed pebbles to get her attention.

  The gas coach lamps glowed, and other ambient lighting lit up the lush, well-landscaped yard that still looked remarkably green despite the unseasonably cold temperatures. The redbrick Colonial wasn’t a mansion by any means, but it certainly wasn’t a shack.

  It was a nice upper-middle class abode that any family would be lucky to call home. It was a far cry from the places he’d lived as a child as he’d shuffled back and forth between his parents’ places. They were usually leased apartments in a part of town where rent was affordable. His parents’ divorce had not only torn apart the family, but it had also ruined both of them financially.

  On the porch, Nick could see through the illuminated windows into the dining room, where a crowd was gathered around the table enjoying dessert.

  Maybe he should’ve texted Becca before he came, but he was already so late that he’d been in a hurry to get there. Now it seemed pointless to text from the front porch.

  He rang the doorbell and heard the sound of running feet and a couple I’ll get its—a herd of children, no doubt, racing to answer the door.

  He was right. When the door opened, a small crowd of kids clustered around the threshold.

  “Who are you?” asked a boy who may have been six or seven years old. His nose was covered with freckles, and he was missing his two front teeth.

  Nick shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m Nick. Who are you?”

  “My mom says I can’t talk to strangers,” said the boy, who was obviously the spokesperson for the munchkins.

  “Probably a good idea,” Nick said. “Would you please go get Becca so I can talk to her?”

  “He’s here to see Becca?” a little blonde girl asked. “How come he’s not at his house having Thanksgiving?”

  “Because he’s here to see Becca,” the freckle-faced boy said, in that way older and usually self-designated wiser kids talked down to younger kids.

  “He’s right,” Nick said. “I’m supposed to come over and have Thanksgiving with Becca. Right here in this house with you.”

  The little girl ducked back behind the door.

  The freckled kid assessed him for a moment before bellowing, “Beccaaaaa!”

  He drew out the aaaaa until a startled-looking Becca came to the door.

  “Oh! Nick. It’s you.” Her face brightened. “You’re here. How long have you been standing there?”

  “Not long. They were just telling me that they’re not allowed to talk to strangers.”

  Becca laughed. “Right. Well, uh, thanks, Jesse. This is Nick. He’s my friend. It’s okay to invite him in.”

  Becca ruffled the kid’s sandy-brown hair.

  “You can come in,” Jesse said, stepping back. “But I don’t think we have any turkey left. We have Brussels sprouts, though.”

  “What are you talking about, Jesse? We still have some turkey.”

  As Nick stepped into the foyer, the kid frowned at Becca and then put his finger to his lips and made a shushing noise. “I’m taking that home. Auntie Bel said I could take it home. He can have the Brussels sprouts.”

  “Jesse, you need to share. Nick just got off work, and I’m sure he’s hungry. Believe me, there will be plenty of turkey for you and everyone else to take home if Nick has
some. It’s cold outside. Please, move out of the way so he can come in.”

  Either Jesse was easily convinced or he lost interest, because the next thing Nick knew the boy and his wolf pack had run off, leaving him gloriously alone in the foyer with Becca.

  “Hi,” he said, leaning in a little bit.

  “Hi,” she repeated, meeting him halfway. “I’m glad to see you.”

  He kissed her, and suddenly her lips were the only thing in the world he craved. He was lost in the taste of her cranberry-and-spice lips until he heard giggles coming from around the corner.

  “See!” Jesse said victoriously. “I told you if we left they’d kiss.” This was uproariously funny to the brood, who were holding their stomachs and throwing back their small heads in laughter. Then when Jesse started chanting, “Kissing! Kissing!” his band of mini minions began following him around the house reciting in unison.

  “That’s embarrassing. Sorry. Welcome to Thanksgiving with the Flannigans. You can run now and save yourself.”

  “That’s all right. I’m up for it.”

  Becca leaned in and planted one more kiss on his lips. “Come on in, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Of course, the house looked the same, but it had a decidedly different air with all the rooms lit up and the sound of people chatting and laughing. Good smells filled the air, and Nick’s stomach rumbled in appreciation.

  Becca paused outside the dining room. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to make it.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” he said. “We had an emergency. This boy who was in the ER twice before with chest pains was back today.”

  Becca grimaced. “Poor kid. And on Thanksgiving, too.”

  “I confirmed a diagnosis of aortic dissection. He had a tear in the lining of the main artery for blood leaving the heart. If we hadn’t caught it, he could’ve died.”

  “Nick. You saved his life.”

  He gave a quick nod. “Do you think that earns me a beer?”

  Becca gave him a hug and then looked up at him. “You can have whatever you want.”

  He liked the way she felt in his arms. It felt like coming home. Or he imagined it did. It was unlike any home he’d ever known.

  A large man with a red face turned the corner of the dining room and nearly ran into them. “Hey, you two. Knock that off. No wonder the kids are running around here chanting about kissing.”

  His tone suggested he was joking. Nonetheless, Nick stepped away from Becca.

  “Uncle Don,” Becca said. “I want you to meet Nick Ciotti. Nick, this is my uncle Don.”

  Nick shook the man’s hand. “Is this the boyfriend your mother was telling us about?” Don said.

  Becca sputtered a bit. “You know how Mom is.”

  “She mentioned that there might be wedding bells in the future. She’s a good catch, man. Don’t let her get away.”

  Nick wasn’t quite sure what to say. So he simply nodded in what he hoped was a noncommittal way.

  The collar of his shirt suddenly felt tight, despite the fact that it was open. It was a little warm in the house, despite the nearly freezing temperatures outside.

  He was probably coming down off the adrenaline rush brought on by the fast pace of the day. Plus, he was hungry, and he really could use that beer.

  “Uncle Don, Nick was just telling me he saved a boy’s life today. He’s an ER doctor at the hospital, and he’s just coming from work.”

  Becca definitely had a talent for steering an uncomfortable conversation in a different direction.

  “Is that so? Well, it’ll be good to have a doctor in the family. Good job, Becs. I need to run in here for a minute.” He gestured toward a room off the hallway that led to the living room. “I’ll catch up with you lovebirds a little later.”

  After Don disappeared, Becca made an exasperated face at Nick. “I warned you.”

  “And that you did.” He hadn’t expected so much pressure. He hoped her family wouldn’t turn into an angry mob after they broke the news about the pregnancy.

  He was about to ask her if she really thought tonight was a good night to tell them and suggest that maybe they should do it in smaller groups, when Isabel found them.

  “Nick, how lovely to see you.” She leaned in and offered her cheek. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to join us.”

  “I’m sorry I’m late, Mrs. Flannigan. I got tied up at work.”

  Isabel cocked her head to the right, but her posture was still impeccable. “Nothing serious, I hope.”

  As Don passed by again, he said, “He saved a kid’s life tonight.”

  Isabel’s eyes flew open wide. “You did? And on Thanksgiving. Oh, Nick, I’ll bet the family is so very thankful for you today. We have a hero, right here in our midst.”

  Nick waved her off and tried to tell her it was nothing, really. “It was all in a day’s work.”

  But Isabel wasn’t listening. She was already leading the way into the dining room, where at least twenty people were crowded around the large formal table talking and eating. A cornucopia resided at the center of the table. Along the back wall was an ornate wooden buffet that housed a fancy silver coffee service, complete with creamer and sugar bowl situated on a large, gleaming tray. At least a half dozen pies of various types were positioned on either side.

  “Please, come into the dining room and sit down. Victor, move so Nick can sit down and eat.” The skinny teenage boy cast a moody glance over his left shoulder, but he obediently got up from the table.

  “Sit down right there, Nick. Becca will bring you a place setting and fix you a plate.”

  “Really, I don’t want to put you out. If you’ve already put the food away, I’ll just have a beer or coffee. Or whatever you have handy.”

  “Nonsense. It’s Thanksgiving. On Thanksgiving you will eat turkey and all the trimmings. Now, sit down. Becca, don’t just stand there. Go get his food.”

  Nick slanted Becca a glance, worried that she might be bristling over her mother’s directives. But she didn’t seem bothered. She was already on her way out of the room.

  He could see others through the doorway that led to the kitchen and still more people sitting in the living room, where Nick and Becca had sat with Isabel and Patrick two nights ago.

  After Nick’s mom had died, it was just him and his dad. Caiden was gone, and his dad wasn’t close with his extended family. There had been no holidays with grandparents or aunts, uncles and cousins.

  A gathering of the boisterous Flannigan clan was a little overwhelming. To say the least.

  Especially when Don said in his booming voice, “Hey, everyone, this is Nick, Becca’s boyfriend. He saved a kid’s life tonight. That’s why he’s late to Thanksgiving.”

  Sounds of awed admiration echoed through the room. Things like this were bright spots, but they really were just part of a day’s work. He forgot how it must sound when civilians heard about lives being saved. Especially when they were young.

  As he waited for Becca to return, he fielded questions about the procedure. He was careful to keep the details general enough so as not to violate the boy’s privacy. But then again, as cool as people who weren’t in the business may have thought hospital talk was, it didn’t take long before the average person’s eyes started glazing over.

  Soon enough, most everyone returned to their own conversations. A few talked to Nick, asking him about himself and how he and Becca met and how long they’d been dating. Until finally Becca presented Nick with a frosty mug of beer and a heaping plate of food.

  He’d barely finished his meal when Patrick entered the room. “Nick, you’re here.”

  He offered his hand, and Nick stood before he shook it.

  “You might as well remain standing,” Patrick instructed him. “Now is a
s good a time as any to share your news with the family. People are going to start leaving pretty soon, and we don’t want anyone left out.”

  As Isabel herded the others into the dining room or at least within earshot, Nick glanced around the table.

  Working in the emergency room, he was used to dealing with blood and guts and some of the strangest and typically scary things a layperson could imagine. Nothing much fazed him.

  Except for the Flannigans.

  He found the lot of them terrifying.

  This was some serious family togetherness. They were a unit. A clan. They were in each other’s business, and the elders definitely ran the show, dictating when everyone should jump and exactly how high.

  Comparatively, Nick was a lone wolf. He preferred to ride a motorcycle, and no one gave him the hairy eyeball. If he wanted a tattoo, he didn’t need to ask permission. If he chose to, he could eat a plateful of candy corn for his Thanksgiving dinner. Although, he had to admit that the dinner was delicious. It was perfect. Like a Norman Rockwell scene or a cover of the Saturday Evening Post.

  Now it was suddenly crystal clear why Becca had hesitated to tell her family about the pregnancy. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to announce this rather personal piece of news to the family.

  “Is everyone here?” Isabel hollered. “Nick and Becca have an announcement for the entire family.”

  “You’re getting married, aren’t you?” Don said. “I knew it. I called it.”

  “No, Uncle Don,” Becca said. “We’re going to have a baby. Twins, actually.”

  * * *

  Virtual crickets chirped in the dining room.

  Everyone had been stunned.

  Stunned silent.

  Becca couldn’t remember this ever happening. Not even when Rosanna had gotten pregnant. Of course, Becca had been eleven years old at the time and she couldn’t recall her parents making such a cavalier announcement. But she figured everyone would know sooner or later. At least this way they seemed supportive.