He gave a token knock on his parents’ front door and walked on in. “Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad,” he called out as he walked down the hallway toward the kitchen. “It’s Cash. If you’re doing something wild on the dining room table, tell me now before I walk in and am scarred forever.”
His mom’s laughter came from the kitchen. “You’re safe. Come on back!”
When he strolled inside, he found her elbow deep in some kind of… dough? Dear Jesus. In fact, Cash paused and closed his eyes to send up a little prayer to the guy upstairs for patience and gastric protection.
Because sure as hell, he’d have to eat some of whatever that culinary monstrosity was.
“Kristofferson, are you okay?” Only his mom called him by his first name. For one thing, people couldn’t spell the damn thing and the one syllable of his middle name was a lot easier than four. She rushed over and placed a goopy hand on his forehead. “I heard the flu’s been going around.”
“Mom, I’m a medical professional. I think I’d know if I had the flu.”
She patted his cheek, spreading the uncooked mixture. “They always say doctors and such make the worst patients.”
True enough.
“I’m not sick.”
“Oh, I guess you were doing a walking meditation then. Your dad’s been on me for months about meditating, but I find baking so much more soothing.”
Cash wiped away the goop on his face and tried not to look at the too-wet Mount Vesuvius on the kitchen island, but it was like a natural disaster—unnaturally compelling. “Do you know where Dad is? I need to talk to him.”
“You know, he left earlier than normal this morning, saying he needed to check on the collard greens and asparagus for this week’s farmers market. He even left without having his hibiscus tea.”
“Maybe he didn’t want to interfere with what you were doing in the kitchen.”
“That’s exactly what he said.” Yeah, Cash knew the score. His mom had already been at her mad culinary scientist gig, and his dad had gotten the hell out of Dodge. “I told him to come back mid-morning for some radish and rosemary scones.”
Ah, Mount Vesuvius mystery solved. Cash’s stomach clenched and his throat closed at the thought of having to politely partake in his mother’s baking.
The things we do for the people we love.
Was that why he was dedicated to helping Emmy have fun—because he still loved her? His mind wanted to reject the idea while his heart was thumping wildly at the possibility.
“But if you don’t want to wait for these to cook,” his mom said, “I have some kumquat muffins in the freezer.”
Her hopeful smile was all it took for Cash to nod and say, “Sure.”
She washed her hands, smearing dough all over the faucet, defiling a hand towel, and leaving a little white clump over her right ear. His heart inflated with feeling for this amazing woman who could both oversee a massive reforestation project and ruin baked goods. Cash snatched her up and swung her around in a hug. “I love you, Mom.”
Laughing and hugging him back, she said, “Someone is in a good mood. I love you, too, honey.” When he lowered her back to the ground, she grinned at him and went to the freezer for the killer muffins. “Will three be enough, or would you like four?”
Forget clenching, his entire digestive system shifted to hide behind other unsuspecting internal organs. Cash patted his stomach. “I’ve been putting on a little weight lately, and I have to pass my tac team physical again soon. Why don’t we make it just two?” And if he was lucky, he could slide the second one to his parents’ dog. “By the way, where’s Nicksie this morning?”
“Oh, she went out in the fields with your dad. You know she loves to ride the tractor.”
There went his make-believe plan to poison the dog. That Border collie was even smarter than he’d ever given her credit for.
His mom tossed two muffins into the microwave and punched in two minutes at full power.
Sorry I didn’t stop her, Dad. It happened too fast for me to advocate for the muffins’ civil rights.
While they were turning into petrified wood, his mom poured him a huge glass of—
“Here’s your milk.”
The liquid she served him was a decidedly yellow color. Buttermilk. Excellent in cornbread and biscuits, but pure gag-inducing in a glass. “Thanks.”
Maybe he could float the muffins and make something edible.
The microwave dinged. His mom pulled out the plate, slathered the muffins in butter—the real stuff, thank God—and slid them in front of him. She stood there watching him expectantly.
He tried to break open the muffin without success, so he just picked it up and bit in. Well, scraped it with his canines was a more accurate description. But thankfully, his mom turned back to her dough so he could gnaw without her watching.
His siblings owed him for this. He wasn’t certain exactly what they owed him, but it was something big. By the time he’d choked down two muffins and the vinegary milk, his stomach was pitching like a washing machine full of towels.
His steps a little slow, he rose and cleaned up his plate and glass. Then he kissed his mom on the head and said, “Thanks for the muffins. They were one of a kind. I’m going to run out and track down Dad before I have to do some lawn work across town.”
“Come by for a snack anytime. We have plenty.”
Oh, he’d be spreading that wealth with his brothers and sisters.
“Love you, Mom.” He made his escape out the back door and muffled a helluva belch behind his fist. He’d be tasting kumquat and buttermilk all day.
His dad and Nicksie were at the back corner of the farm. They weren’t picking, planting, or even walking the rows of vegetables. They were sitting beneath the shade of a pecan tree. His dad was reading the latest copy of Today’s Organic Farmer, and Nicksie was snoozing.
As Cash tromped up, he said, “You could warn your kids, you know. Your kitchen is currently a kill zone.”
His dad’s head lifted and he smiled. “Call it getting even for all the years of dirty diapers and snotty noses.”
Cash flopped down beside him and rested a hand on his uneasy stomach. “Were we really that bad?”
“Demon spawn.”
“Not sure what that says about you and Mom.”
His dad’s laugh was full and rich with genuine amusement.
“Speaking of you and Mom, how did y’all make it work?” he asked casually.
“What it are you talking about specifically?”
“All of it. Marriage. Five kids. Her career.” His dad’s lack of one for a long time. Even now with Kingston Farms, his dad was more than happy being a favored supplier for the local farm-to-table movement rather than some huge operation.
“Is this about Emmy McKay coming back to town?”
His dad may not have been a professional go-getter, but he was nobody’s fool. “No. Maybe.” He sighed. “Yeah.”
“Then what’s your real question, son?”
He wasn’t totally sure. He just knew he needed the answer. “You were the primary kid wrangler.”
“Yep, but that’s not a question. It’s a fact.”
“Five kids, Dad. Most men—even in your generation—wouldn’t touch that with a ten-foot pole.”
“And you’re wondering why I did?”
“I just need to understand.”
“Let me ask you a question. Do you think it made me less of a man to scramble eggs for breakfast, pack lunches, do laundry, and whip up spaghetti for dinner?”
“Hell, no.”
“Do you think it made your mom less of a woman to wear a hardhat, lead a team of engineers, and bring home a nice paycheck?”
“Of course not.”
“Even if you might’ve wished for her to make chocolate chip cookies now and then instead of me.”
Cash chuckled, but it came out as another burp. “They say to be careful what we wish for. I think she’s making up for lost time now.”
“Which was it? The muffins or the scones?”
“The scones were still in process.”
His dad dug into his pants pockets and handed Cash a roll of antacids. “I don’t usually like to take OTC meds, but…”
“Desperate times.” Cash thumbed off three and popped them into his mouth. Didn’t even mind the chalky texture and artificial flavor since they promised relief for his stomach.
“Your mom’s retirement has truly been a Dicken’s line. 'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.’” Nicksie woke, turning to her back for Cash’s dad to scratch her tummy. “But mostly the best.”
“Do you think the baking phase will pass?”
“If God answers prayers. But your mom is a pro. She’s the kind of person who needs not only to tackle projects daily, but she also needs a guiding purpose. As much as she loves every one of you kids, keeping a house and being the family manager wasn’t her purpose. That wasn’t a surprise she hit me with when we were expecting Maggie. I knew that from our first date.”
“She told you on your first date that she wanted a househusband?”
“No, she talked about her passion for environmental engineering. I knew then that if I wanted to be with her that I would be the one to bend more. I knew I could fall in love with her. She was so smart and passionate. She reminded me of Athena, ready to do battle for the environment, for the planet we live on. She was so determined. I won’t lie. It was sexy as hell. Still is.”
“A confident woman.” Just like Emmy in the debriefing. “But did it ever bother you that she was the primary breadwinner?”
“So you’re wondering if being with a strong, financially independent woman—one who outranks you in your career field—diminishes a man?”
Put like that, it sounded stupid and shallow. But real life was more than mythic spears and shields. It was mortgages and minivans.
“A lot of men would be threatened,” his dad went on. “Might feel as if a woman didn’t truly need him. But to my mind, a woman who makes her own way in this world and still chooses to be with a man…That’s a real commitment. Because she chooses.”
True. Emmy might never need to be with him, but if she chose him, that was even more powerful.
But his own dad had given up pursuing a career for years because of their family. “Five kids. Did you have any idea what you were signing on for?” Not to mention that they were all damn strong-willed, and Shep had introduced additional challenges into their family unit.
“About as much as anybody does. Which is to say not at all before the first one comes along. But when I held your sister for the first time and she screamed bloody murder, I fell in love all over again. She was a piece of your mom and a piece of me. Cliché as it might sound, son, a baby is a miracle you can hold in your hand.”
He didn’t even know how Emmy felt about having children. She had never talked much about how growing up in a single-parent family impacted her. He knew money had been tight. That was the reason Emmy tutored back in high school and had been so motivated to earn big college scholarships. Her dreams had hinged on it.
And she’d made them come true.
He was incredibly proud of her for that. Why had it taken him so long to realize it?
“Each time one of you were born, it was a new and equally astonishing miracle. When you made your way into the world, you didn’t scream and cry. You were the only one of our kids to come out grinning. I expected you to throw me a peace sign from the crib. I won’t say you were always the easiest, but you were the most laidback.”
“Any kid would look mellow next to hardworking Maggie.”
“You just had an easiness about you. A oneness with life. Like the world was a playground that had been custom built for you.”
“And what about Shep? Did you and Mom expect a child on the autism spectrum?”
“No parent expects anything. We hope. Hope for healthy and happy. Did Shep bring certain complications into our lives? You bet. But he also brought a depth, a richness that we would never have experienced otherwise. I’m proud of all my kids, but Shep…”
Cash knew what his dad was trying to say. “He’s just special. Like a coconut tree unapologetically sprouting up in the middle of a wheat field.”
“Exactly.” His dad pinned him with a shrewd look. “So Emmy doesn’t want kids?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t made it that far. Hell, we haven’t even made it far enough for that to be a possibility.” And he wasn’t a hundred percent sure they should.
“The two of you aren’t children. It’s something to talk about before you go to bed together. Cash, you’ve played the field for years, and I don’t begrudge you that. But Emmy is different from the women you’ve dabbled with. If one of you wants a future with kids and the other doesn’t, you need to know that going in. Need to decide if that’s something you can both live with.”
“Even so, I can’t imagine five.”
“I figured if your mom was generous enough to gain the weight and bear the pain of giving you life, the least I could do was kiss boo-boos and make sure you made it to adulthood.” His dad smiled, a totally content expression, and patted Cash on the shoulder. “Love is important, Cash. But it takes a hell of a lot more than love to make a marriage work, especially one that includes a family. It’s a partnership that shifts and changes over the years. If we’re looking for someone to stay the same as the day we met her, we have no business trying to make a life with her.”
“That’s what was so stupid about me asking Emmy to marry me when we were eighteen.”
“No one could’ve talked you out of it back then.”
“What I wanted was the girl she was. I wasn’t willing to wait for the woman she wanted to become.”
His dad wrapped a friendly arm around Cash’s shoulders. “And because you understand that now, I think you’re ready to be the man for her.”
* * *
After their “fun” picnic, Cash had become awfully quiet. Emmy tried to reengage him in the conversation about enjoying life, but he’d cleaned up and left shortly after.
She couldn’t help but feel like she’d made a major blunder. Her life seemed to be filled with them right now, and she needed to know if Oliver was responsible for any of them. Especially the rumors and the lawsuit.
So she was calling. Again.
Finally, after several unanswered calls, he picked up with a clipped “Oliver Amory speaking.”
“Did you have anything to do with the Hernandez lawsuit?” Emmy asked.
“Who is this?”
God, he really was a colossal prick. “You know exactly who this is. And interestingly enough, rumors started circling in town about my professional competence as a doctor right around the time you were here.”
“Apparently, that backwoods burg is more discerning than I thought.”
“I think you started people talking.” And that wasn’t the half of it now. Recently, ER patients had asked for other doctors, choosing to wait rather than be seen by Emmy. And voluntary waiting was unheard of in the ER.
“Emerson, I have no control over the general population, especially mountain folk.” He placed a fake twang on mountain folk that made Emmy’s whole body tighten with indignation. “But I appreciate that you think so highly of me.”
Emmy ground her teeth together so hard, she would probably need a crown on each of her molars.
“Have you reconsidered my offer?” Oliver asked.
“That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? You want to me to come back to Baltimore. I can’t imagine why. The hospital is just fine without me, and so are you. Besides, why would I want to be in a relationship with a man who tries to win me back by blackmailing me?”
“Rumors don’t imply guilt. Although those rumors would probably blow over quickly once you left Steele Ridge.”
“Maybe so, but the lawsuit is a much more serious situation.”
“What lawsuit?”
As if he didn’t
know. “The one filed by the Hernandez family. I guess you didn’t have anything to do with that either. Dammit, Oliver, I worked on that kid for longer than I should have on someone with that much gunshot blast damage, but I just couldn’t give up on him.”
“Then perhaps you can understand why I can’t give up on you.”
14
As she hung up on Oliver, Emmy had never regretted taking the vow to do no harm as much as she did at that moment. The overwhelming urge to retaliate made her pace around her living room.
Would he have bothered to start rumors in Steele Ridge? Regardless, he was definitely capable of pulling the kind of strings that would encourage a struggling family to sue. They’d filed a suit against the hospital and management company, too, but no doubt Oliver had a plan for circumventing those and turning all the legal and financial heat onto Emmy.
All of which would probably quietly disappear if she were willing to return to BaltGen and sleep in his bed again.
Fuck you, Oliver Amory, and the high horse you rode in on.
Emmy stopped her pacing to stand in the sunshine let in by the tall wood-trimmed windows overlooking Main Street. It was soothing on her arms and shoulders and allowed her to breathe. She would get through this.
Across the street and down a few buildings, a line of customers was curving out onto the sidewalk from Mad Batter. Emmy smiled. It was so good to see her hometown starting to flourish. For years when she’d come home to visit her mom and Kris, it had seemed to get a little sadder, a little bleaker each time.
Until Jonah Steele and his family had turned things around.
Now, most of the storefronts on Main were filled and foot traffic was brisk. In the ER break room, she’d seen a regional publication that had highlighted Steele Ridge on the front page, saying it was an up-and-coming tourist destination.
The bakery line shifted, revealing the sandwich sign that Jeanine Jennings, the baker’s assistant, chalked by hand every day. Today’s message was: When the waves start hitting the shore, get on your surfboard.
Pretty funny for a mountain town.
Tasting Fire Page 13
