“My girls are gorgeous.” Joe’s voice broke through Pat’s train of thought.
Patrick answered without thinking. “Yeah.”
The older man’s laughter caught Pat off guard. He turned toward Joe and asked, “Did I miss the joke?”
But Joe just smiled, turned the steaks, and sent the boys over to their mother to grab the bowl of potato chips. “Don’t run,” he warned them as he tossed a few burgers for the kids onto the grill, “or you’ll spill your share of the chips.”
Enjoying their antics, Pat watched Danny and Joey walk back with the bowl between them like it was TNT and about to explode. “You always know just what to say to those two.”
Joe smiled. “They’re a lot like my girls were growing up.”
“Your girls were that wild?”
Joe’s deep laughter had Dan and Jack breaking off their conversation. “Did you just ask if the Mulcahy sisters were wild when they were younger?” Dan asked.
“Just wondering,” Pat replied.
“Did you hear about the time Meg climbed up to the crow’s nest?” Dan asked.
Patrick just had to ask, “At the top of the mast in McCormack’s field?”
Dan nodded.
“Or the time Cait tried to dye her hair blue with Jell-O?” Jack asked.
Pat shook his head, asking, “What wild stuff did Grace do?”
Joe sighed. “She was always the one to quietly rebel.”
“So she wasn’t as obvious as her older sisters?” Pat filed that information away with what else he’d learned so far about the beguiling woman.
“Wow,” Jack said, staring at the sisters. “Separately they are gorgeous. Together—”
“They’re stunning,” Dan finished for him.
“Some little girls are going to be very surprised when they receive the new wigs that Love Locks will be creating for them with all the hair my girls donated.”
“Whose idea was it?” Pat asked.
“Grace’s,” Dan told them. “She’s the catalyst that had her friend Kate calling Meg who called Honey B. Once those three started talking, the ball got rolling.”
When Pat stared at him, Dan shrugged. “That’s how it is in Apple Grove. One good deed leads to another, and before you know it, the town’s in on it and everyone wins.”
Joe smiled. “It’s what I love most about living here—that and the fact that the Mulcahy family’s roots go deep.” He turned to watch his youngest. “Maybe not all of us feel the same way, but two thirds of my girls do.” His sigh was heartfelt. Joe shook his head and added, “Everyone has to follow their own path, make their own way.” He locked gazes with Patrick. “Sooner or later a man meets his destiny and either accepts the fact, or he walks away from it.”
Pat wondered if Grace’s father knew Pat was running from his past or if the man was referring to his daughter—the blonde goddess with the killer curves. A man’s destiny could be twofold, couldn’t it?
“Family’s important.” Joe watched Patrick intently. “Do you have family in Newark?”
A completely innocuous question unless you caught the underlying tone in Joe’s voice—the man was digging for information. Everything Joe knew about him was surface.
Patrick watched the way Grace laughed with her sisters and felt the jolt go deep. This could be the one his ma had warned him he’d meet one day when he wasn’t looking, a woman who’d make all the ones he’d dated before fade in comparison.
“Ma’s right,” Pat whispered.
“What’s that?” Joe asked.
Patrick shook his head to clear it of those thoughts and said, “Thinking out loud.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Joe reminded him.
“If you mean other than my firefighting brothers in Newark, no, my family’s in New York—Brooklyn.”
Joe looked up and Patrick knew the man was asking because he was curious for his daughter’s sake.
“From the way you are with my grandsons, I’d say you have nephews and nieces of your own.”
Pat found his equilibrium and his smile. “My three sisters are all married with kids. Grania’s got three boys and two girls, Maeve has three girls, and Kelly has four boys. None of my brothers are married—yet.”
Jack and Dan were keeping the boys from eating too many chips by starting a game of keep-away with the bowl. The boys enthusiastically chased after the men—and the bowl of chips.
“Always wondered what my life would have been like if there’d been a son added into the mix,” Joe said softly. “But my girls are my heart.” He stared out at the field behind the house for a few moments before looking down at the grill. “Hand me that platter. These babies are done.”
Pat did as he was asked, surprised when Joe spoke up. “Are you going to keep me in suspense or tell me about your brothers?”
Pat laughed and told him, “I’ve got three. Tommy’s the oldest, then me, Mike—then come the girls, Grania, Maeve, Kelly, and the youngest—Johnny.”
“Salesmen and stockbrokers I suppose,” Joe said cagily.
The snort of laughter escaped before he could stop it. “We followed the family tradition; we’re all firefighters.”
“Smoke eaters,” Joe said. “Takes a certain breed of man to walk into a fire—had them in the coast guard. Scariest thing I’d ever seen in my life was a fire aboard ship.”
Before Joe could begin what Pat sensed would be an amazing tale of courage, filled with danger, the women walked over, distracting him.
“So, Pop,” Grace said, “what have you been up to?”
Patrick watched Joe deftly distract his youngest to keep from letting on that he’d been subtly grilling Pat for information. The man was a master at distraction, Pat decided, watching Grace turn around and head back inside to bring out the tray of condiments Joe had left in the kitchen.
The picnic table was just long enough to fit everyone, with a high chair for the baby at the end of the table. Watching the boys sitting on their knees to reach the table top reminded him of his childhood.
Grace’s laughter had him turning to watch her. He had a gut-deep feeling that she’d fit right in with his family.
Maybe what he should have been focusing on was arranging schedules with Grace so they could start to fill in the blanks. He was pretty sure he’d convinced her to come back next weekend for the soccer game. But Patrick wanted to find out if the spark that sizzled between them could be kept going until it built into a flame that would last for years.
His last girlfriend hadn’t been able to handle his job and had walked out of his life when he’d hit bottom and needed her most—after that tragic fire. The nightmares that plagued him—superimposing his nephew Michael’s face over that of the boy’s he hadn’t been able to save—had sent him in a downward spiral. The spiral ended with his ex walking out and him trying to drown in a bottle of whiskey. It had taken months of his lieutenant and brothers badgering him to get help before he would even admit he’d tried to solve the turmoil inside of him by drinking himself to sleep—every night.
His heartbreak, the nightmares, and the breakup with his ex were all tangled up in a mass of emotion he had yet to unravel. He’d learned to push those feelings deep and move on with his life—accepting that he wasn’t meant to have a woman to come home to. Or so he thought until he’d seen Grace again and felt the frisson of want and need spark to life.
“So,” he drawled, “what’s for dessert?”
“Cait made Boston cream pie.”
“I love pie,” Pat said.
“I guess you’ve never had it before, or you wouldn’t be saying that,” Grace added.
“OK,” he said, “I give. Because…?”
“It’s not really a pie,” Jack told him.
“It’s our grandma’s recipe,” Meg added. “It’s actually a buttery vanilla layer cake filled with homemade custard and topped with confectioner’s sugar.”
Dan shook his head. “My mom’s recipe for Boston cream pie called for melted choco
late poured on top.”
“That’s because she didn’t have my grandmother’s kick-butt recipe which does not call for chocolate.”
“But I like chocolate,” Dan mumbled.
“Me too, Daddy!” Danny scooted close to his father’s side and patted him on the arm.
“I like Auntie Cait’s pie.” Joey jumped off the bench and followed Cait across the yard and into the house.
Dan chuckled. “So tell me again about this sugar fixation our boys have.”
“All kids have it,” Meg protested. “It’s not just a Mulcahy thing.”
“Yeah it is,” her father said.
Instead of contradicting him, she just shook her head at him. Joe turned to Patrick and asked, “So, any interesting habits in the Garahan family?”
Pat thought about the way Tom and Mike had called a family meeting and told them they’d be getting shamrocks tattooed over their hearts to support their Texas cousins and help raise money for the first annual Take Pride in Pleasure Day Celebration and Rodeo. At the last minute, only Tom and Mike had been able to fly out to Pleasure, Texas, to take part in the finale—the lineup of Garahans and their Colorado cousins. Cowboys, firefighters, and lawmen on stage standing shoulder-to-shoulder…clad in worn blue jeans and beat-up boots and all of them shirtless showing their Irish pride and their Kelly-green shamrocks tattooed over their hearts.
He’d seen the pictures after the fact but had been in a downward spiral of grief and self-recrimination for not saving that little boy from the Projects in time. Every minute counts when there is smoke and fire involved. Smoke could be deadlier than flame. He’d seen it countless times; it wasn’t often that he or his firehouse lost the battle to save victims. The fact that the boy was his nephew’s age and size had stuck with him—and then the dreams—nightmares—started. Add in his ex walking out on him and he’d been a total basket case. Whiskey had been the only way he could cope—until he’d come to the realization that distance might be the answer.
“Patrick?”
The warmth of the hand on his arm shook him from his private hell. He looked down the table and over at the shouts of delight coming from the kitchen. “Sorry. Was just thinking about something.”
“Want to talk about it?” Grace’s eyes were such a soft and lovely shade of green. His mother would be nudging Pat toward Grace if she were here.
“Uh, no,” he said slowly. “Not right now.”
“With six kids in one family,” Dan began, “I bet you were always up to something.”
The snort of laughter escaped before Pat could contain it. “You could say that.”
“Did your sisters follow you around?” Meg smiled as she waited for him to answer.
“Not after the time we left them up in the tree house without the ladder.”
“How did they get down?” Danny wanted to know.
Pat grinned. “They howled like banshees until we brought the ladder back because we knew if Ma heard them, we’d be in hot water.”
“So did you get caught?” Grace asked, her smile wrapping around his heart.
“Almost.” Pat grinned.
“Your smile tells me there’s more to the story.”
He nodded. “Garahans don’t get mad; they get even.”
“What did your sisters do?” Jack asked.
“Put worms in our beds.”
“Makes me glad I never had sisters,” Jack said, getting up to help his wife with the cake.
Joe’s booming laughter filled the air. “My Maureen would have loved this.”
He looked away and Pat sensed the man was struggling with emotions that would never die. In his profession, Pat understood loss of life and fought damned hard not to lose that battle.
“She’d have been so proud of the lives you’ve made.” He smiled at Meg and Dan. “She would have loved the grandchildren.” Joe’s eyes filled with unshed tears.
Patrick’s stomach clenched seeing the emotion the older man fought to keep bottled up—yet one more thing they had in common.
Meg got up and walked over to put her head on her father’s shoulder and wrap her arms around him. Not to be left out, Cait and Grace squeezed in, forming a huddle of femininity around Joe.
“We want to hug Gran’pop too!” Before anyone could stop them, Danny and Joey launched themselves at their grandfather, knocking into Grace in their hurry to join the group hug.
Patrick was up like a shot and caught Grace as she windmilled her arms to keep from falling. “Gotcha,” he whispered against her neck, breathing in the subtle scent of lavender and rain.
“Why is Unca Pat kissing Auntie Grace?” Danny asked loud enough to be heard three houses down.
“He’s not kissing her,” Joey said. “He’s sniffing her.”
The rumbling laughter surrounding him lightened his heart. It felt good to hold Grace close and to have her nephews peppering him with questions. He wanted Grace in his life. He’d start out as friends, but he didn’t want it to end there. He wanted it all.
Chapter 7
Grace trembled with aftershocks, drowning in the sensation of warm, firm lips so close to kissing her before her nephews interfered. It seemed fast, but already she was wondering how in the world they could make a relationship work with nearly two hours of travel time between. Was she really ready for this?
She eased out of his arms so she could look up into his eyes. Her family blurred into the background as their gazes locked and she saw the need swirling in his amber eyes.
“Little peepers, Grace.” Meg’s voice had Grace snapping out of the trance she’d been in—the spell Patrick Garahan had put her under.
“Gracie!”
“Hmm?” She looked at Meg first and then Cait. “What?”
Her sisters were shaking their heads at her, and she realized that she was still hanging on to Patrick like he was her lifeline and she was drowning at sea. It certainly felt like that time she’d gone swimming in the river and got caught in the mud and reeds along the bank. Her mind was muddled and her thoughts fuzzy—just as they had been back then, when she’d finally struggled free and broke through the surface of the water. The strong, firm hand grasping hers squeezed gently, tugging her the rest of the way out of the childhood memory.
“Does Cait’s Boston cream pie taste as good as it looks?” Patrick asked.
“Oh yeah,” Jack answered. “She’s come a long way in the kitchen,” he teased, earning a smack on the back of the head from his wife. “And her reflexes have improved too.” He swept to his feet and scooped his wife in his arms, twirling her around in a circle.
“Can we play merry-go-round too, Unca Jack?”
He winked at his wife and set her down. To his nephews’ delight, he picked them up at the same time, whirling them around until Meg had to tell him to stop or they’d throw up.
“You’d think a doctor would know better,” Meg said.
After they’d devoured dessert, Meg announced it was time to clean up.
“But we want to play keep-away with Unca Jack and—” Joey began.
“Unca Pat and Dad,” Danny finished.
“You two are going to help with cleanup duty first, while the men go fiddle with your grandfather’s antique pickup.”
“Can we—” Danny’s question was interrupted by his mother’s fierce frown. “Never mind.”
Patrick lingered while the other men headed to the barn.
Grace was surprised that he didn’t tag along behind them. “Aren’t you going with them?”
“I’d rather give you a hand.” He grazed her shoulder with the tips of his fingers, setting off a series of sparks beneath her skin that tingled long after the contact was broken.
“I, uh…” Grace started to say, struggling to get her tongue to work properly. “That is—”
“Thanks, Pat,” Meg finished for her sister. “Boys, go on inside and get the plastic containers I left on the table. Pat, could you wrestle that garbage can over here? It’ll be easier to just
dump everything at once.”
Patrick winked at Grace and sprinted over to the smaller outbuilding where two plastic cans sat by the corner.
“I keep some of my smaller wood scraps in the left one,” Cait called out. “Grab the other one.”
Surprised, Grace asked, “Don’t you have a workshop over at your house yet?”
Cait shrugged. “Pop said there was no use moving everything when he’d probably be hanging around with time on his hands and could help me move the bigger projects around the shop.”
Meg didn’t stop to look up as she asked, “Like that solid oak credenza you just finished last week for Mrs. Winter?”
Cait smiled. “Yep, it was really heavy, and Jack doesn’t want me lifting things.”
Grace’s hands stilled and her breath caught as she whirled around and stared at her older sister. “Cait, are you and Jack—”
Before she could get the question out, happy tears filled Cait’s eyes. “I’m gonna be a mom.”
Meg was laughing and Grace was crying as they pulled Cait into a group hug and held on tight. “You always did know how to surprise us, Sis,” Meg rasped, her voice filled with emotion.
“Unca Pat!” Danny called out, coming out of the house.
“Something’s wrong with Auntie Cait!” Joey yelled, running after his brother to where the women were huddled in a tight knot.
***
Patrick reacted as he’d been taught at Randall’s Island during training—instinctively. He spun around and sprinted over to where Cait stood bent over, held up by her sisters. “What’s wrong, where does it hurt, Cait?”
Before she could answer, he yelled, “Jack, get your ass out here!” His booming voice had all three men bursting out of the barn.
Grace was amazed at the way Patrick took charge of the situation—even though there really wasn’t one. He’d reacted without thinking—or had he? While he urged her sister to sit, Grace went over everything in her head; it had happened so quickly. Patrick had answered the call for help from her nephews and, while assessing Cait’s physical state, had called for backup.
“She’s fine, Patrick.”
But he ignored her, taking Cait’s pulse, watching her breathing and her pupils. “Caitlin, I asked: where does it hurt?”
Welcome Back to Apple Grove Page 7
