Hold Me Fast (McCullough Mountain Book 7)

by Lydia Michaels

  He nodded. “I best take you home now.”

  She didn’t want to go, but he’d need to go speak to Paulie before it got too late, otherwise he’d be sleeping under the stars. “Okay.”

  She was disappointed he hadn’t kissed her before they returned to her parents’. “Will you come in?” she asked, hoping he would and maybe try talking man to man to her father, but he hesitated at her door.

  “I think, in light of everything, it would be easier on everyone if I didn’t. You shouldn’t have to fight with your father because he hates me.”

  “He doesn’t hate you, Frank. He’s just a stubborn old bastard who’s pissed off I disobeyed his wishes. He should have given us his blessing from the beginning.”

  “Maybe he was wise not to. Perhaps my father’s reputation preceded him and your father was only trying to protect you.”

  She gripped his shirt and tugged. “You are not your father, Frank.”

  “I hope not.”

  “I know you’re not. And you’re too smart to doubt me when I’ve got my mind made up.” She pressed her lips to his. “Go see Paulie and send my love to my sister.”

  He nodded. “I love you.”

  There was a sadness to his eyes she feared, one that she didn’t recognize. Meeting his gaze as though the connection would solidify her word, she said, “I love you too, Frank. Always.”

  Solemnly, she took the steps. Her head hung low like a chastised young girl. As she stepped through the door, she heard the rumble of his truck pulling away.

  “Maureen?” her mother called, coming around the corner, a dishcloth twisting in her hands. “What are you doing here? I thought you wouldn’t come back.”

  All her efforts to remain stoic crumbled under the confession to her mother. “I need a place to stay, Mum.” She angrily wiped at her tears, hating how fragile they made her appear. “The bank foreclosed on Frank’s house because of his father’s debts and we can’t stay there until everything’s straightened out.”

  “Oh,” he mother whispered sympathetically, pulling her into a hug. “Where has your groom gone, dearie?”

  “He didn’t want to face Daddy, not until he’s made this right.”

  Her mother nodded. “Your father’s on my shite list anyway, the idjit. How about I make us some tea and we go to your room for a chat. I’d like to hear all about your wedding, love.” She looked down, her expression sad. “I’d hoped…”

  “Mum?”

  She shook her head and waved away her words. “I’d always imagined watching my youngest get married. There were things I’d meant to tell you, Maureen, things a girl should know before her wedding night.”

  “I know, Mum. I’d talked to Rosemarie—”

  “So your sister’s knew then?”

  “Only Rose. Colleen found out after we said our vows.”

  “Well.” She patted her arm. “I’ll get that tea brewing and you go get out of this dress. The collar’s ripped and will have to be mended.”

  She nodded and went to her room. It hurt, knowing she’d excluded her mother from something as important as her wedding and she wished there had been another option. Deep down, she knew the option was waiting, something her impetuous heart refused to consider at the time.

  She decided in that moment, so long as her mother accepted her choice, she’d include her in all future life events. It was nice knowing one of her parents cared enough to want to be included. Her father might care, but so long as he ran around like a lunatic pointing rifles at people, she didn’t hold much empathy for his point of view.

  “You can just leave it there and I’ll see that he gets it,” the secretary said as she continued on her call.

  Maureen’s molars locked. It wasn’t the older woman’s fault her boss had missed an appointment three days in a row. How was she supposed to know he had a lunch date with his wife? She dropped the paper sack on his desk and left.

  The following day when Frank was again missing, she’d had enough. Getting in her car, she followed the dirt road up the mountain to where she’d heard saws buzzing and men shouting. Paulie and Frank sat in the back of his truck with the flap down, eating something that looked like pasta. Scowling, she put the Falcon in park and grabbed his lunch.

  When she slammed the car door, Paulie looked up. “Uh… Frank?”

  Her husband turned and the smirk washed off his face. “Maureen, what are you doing here?”

  She threw the bagged lunch at him and he grunted as he caught it against his chest. “You invited me,” she growled. “But I see you’ve already eaten.”

  “I’m gonna go check on that thing,” Paulie said, making his way over to the other workers.

  “I’ve been busy—”

  “You’ve been a coward!”

  He drew back. “What?”

  “I know what you’re doing, trying to be the big man, bigger than any pesky problem. Well, guess what, Frank, hiding from your issues doesn’t make them any less real. And how dare you lump me in with the problems you plan to ignore. I’m your wife, or have you forgotten?”

  He came close to her face and growled, “I’m not hiding from anything.”

  Slowly, she said, “Oh, no, I’ve forgotten my shovel and I seem to be sinkin’ in a pile of bullshit!”

  “Go home, Maureen,” he snarled.

  “And where would that be, Frank? My parents’? You do remember how to get there, don’t you? It’s been a while.”

  “Last time I was there your father aimed a rifle at my balls.”

  “And he might as well have shot them off. Where the hell have you been? Five days, including a solid weekend, and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of you!” She poked him in the chest. “Coward.”

  “I’ve been handling things.”

  “Like what? Have you talked to the bank?”

  “Yes,” he said, surprising her.

  A bit of the wind left her sails and she blinked. “Well, what did they say?” Taking back a bit of her bravado, she reminded him, “As your wife I’d expect to know these things.”

  “You got an awful lot of demands, woman.”

  Strangely, she was suddenly torn between kissing him and clobbering him. Her adrenaline was tampering with her focus, so she decided staying angry was best. “Answer the question.”

  His shoulders lifted and sagged. “If I come up with ten grand by September first, I can buy back the property the house is on, but they’re tearing down the house and everything in it is going to auction.”

  Her hopes crashed as her anger turned to sympathy. “Ten thousand?”

  “Aye,” he said still glaring at her. “So while you’re throwing out accusations, maybe you could take a breath and consider how far away that is for me. I’m workin’ late and doing everything I can and I still know I’ll never make that. I don’t have time to run all the way back to the trailer to meet you for lunch. Not when it’ll cost me. I’m the boss, Maureen. Every minute my back’s turned, my men are workin’ half as hard as they should be.”

  She’d not thought about overtime or any such thing. Her mind was hung up on all of his possessions going to auction. “Your things…” It was all the memories he had left.

  “A man doesn’t need records and old toys. It’s my pride they’re taking from me and I don’t expect you to understand how that feels.”

  His accusation stung and she scowled at him. “Do not talk to me like I’m a child that doesn’t understand, Frank.”

  “And I’ll thank you not to come here making a scene, disrespecting me in front of my crew.”

  Her lips firmed as she held in a slew of foul expletives. He’d never been angry with her before—never truly angry—and it hurt more than she expected. She wanted to hurt him back, but also wanted to stop fighting at once. Wounded that he would not see her as a partner and rather made her feel like the enemy, she took a step back. They clearly needed a little more space.

  “Oh,” she whispered, her eyes narrowing. “You’ll not have to wo
rry about me comin’ here again.” Turning on her heel, she returned to her car and white knuckled her way back to town. Her tears were unfortunate, but her fear for what might come between them was certainly worth crying over. And so she wept the entire way home.

  “He’s been workin’ his arse off trying to make that money, Maureen. The man’s tense and he ain’t livin’ with his wife so the stress has to be getting’ to him. He needs an outlet,” Colleen explained, brimming with untested marital wisdom.

  “Sleep with him? After he spoke to her like that? Are you out of your fuckin’ mind? Don’t listen to her, Maureen. You did the right thing by settin’ him straight,” Rosemarie argued.

  Maureen grumbled into the fruity concoction her sister mixed her. “Married a day longer than me and she thinks she’s got the market cornered when it comes to matrimony.” Raising her voice so Colleen could hear her, she said, “You live at your bloody mother-in-law’s house in Paulie’s childhood bedroom. What do you know?”

  “I know how to keep my husband’s temper in hand.” Her sister arched a brow and she and Rosemarie rolled their eyes.

  “An Irishman is different from an Italian,” Rosemarie pointed out. “They’ve got more pride than commonsense. Dangle your womanly bits in front of an Italian man and he’ll sell his pride just to have a ride.”

  “I resent that,” Colleen snapped. “My children will be half Italian.”

  “And ours will be Irish, what the hell difference does it make?” Maureen was growing frustrated. “He’s never taken that tone with me before. I offended him and I don’t know how to fix it.”

  He’d offended her as well, but she’d already forgiven him, having the insight to know he was scared and hurting. In the course of a week he’d lost his father and his home. Then they’d gone and gotten married. Perhaps he feared losing his wife next. But Maureen would never let that happen. She selfishly loved him too much to let him walk away.

  “Did you mean what you said when you spoke to him?” Rosemarie asked.

  “Yes. He stood me up. I’m pissed off.”

  “Then be pissed, Maureen. Do you think he’s not worryin’ over your feelings the way you’re sittin’ here worryin’ over his?”

  She frowned and stared at her drink. “I don’t know.”

  “Listen to me,” Rosemarie whispered, leaning over the bar. “He loves you. He’s trying to figure out a way to make a home for you so you can have a right and proper marriage. He hasn’t said much to Liam, but I know he wants Daddy’s approval. Like I said, it’s a matter of pride.”

  “All that pride sounds like a hassle to me,” Colleen mumbled.

  “Shut your face and finish your beer, you drunk wench. I wasn’t talkin’ to you,” Rosemarie snapped. Softening her tone, she turned back to Maureen. “Give him a few days and see if he comes around. If he doesn’t, perhaps you pay him another visit. Bees with honey.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you ain’t gonna get anywhere shootin’ off at the mouth, full of piss and vinegar,” Colleen explained.

  Rosemarie rolled her eyes. “She may be drunk, but she’s got it right. Fightin’ with him is only goin’ to make it worse. You’ve got to be sweet.”

  Maureen pouted. She wasn’t so sure sweet was in her nature, but she could try.

  Maureen frowned into the rearview mirror and sighed. Giving up on her appearance, she climbed out of the car and walked to the trailer. She would not go in there full of piss or vinegar.

  She knocked and the secretary called for her to come in. “Hello. I was looking for Frank.”

  The woman, who looked to be in her late forties, sighed. “Sweetheart, he doesn’t come back for lunch. I’ve told you time and again—”

  “I—I know. This time he wasn’t expecting me. Is there a way to let him know I’m here? I need to speak with him.” It had been two weeks and he’d made no effort to contact her and mend their relationship. Out of tears, Maureen was terrified her marriage was over before it even began, but she couldn’t let that happen.

  The secretary sighed again. “I can radio one of the trucks, but he doesn’t like to be disturbed unless it’s an emergency. Is it an emergency?”

  No. “Yes.”

  “Very well then.”

  She swiveled in her chair and picked up a microphone that resembled a joystick. “This is Ruby. I have a woman here asking to speak to Mr. McCullough. She says it’s an emergency.”

  “You don’t have to say it’s an emergency,” Maureen whispered, but the secretary held up a silencing finger.

  “I repeat, I’m looking for Mr. McCullough—”

  “This is Frank. What do you need, Ruby?”

  “There’s a woman here that wishes to speak to you. She says it’s an emergency.”

  “Who is it?”

  Maureen rolled her eyes. Did he have so many women calling for him?

  “What’s your name, hon?”

  She’d had enough. “Mrs. McCullough.”

  The secretary’s eyes widened. Her fingers covered the microphone. “As in his…”

  “Wife.”

  Her lips parted and she quickly turned back to the radio. “She said she’s your wife. I didn’t know you were married, Mr. McCullough.”

  “Put her on and give us some privacy please.”

  “Yes, sir.” She stood and waved Maureen behind the desk. “Hold this and press that button there when you want to speak. Don’t hold it too long or he won’t be able to answer. I’ll be outside.” She tapped her back as she slid into the seat, her eye’s apologetic. “I didn’t know you were his wife. I hope I wasn’t rude to you.”

  Maureen had too much to worry about to comfort the secretary. As soon as the door to the trailer shut, she pressed the button. “Frank?”

  “Maureen, what are you doing there?”

  “I didn’t know how to reach you. I need to talk to you.”

  “You could have called Paulie’s.”

  “I have. You’re never there and Colleen says you haven’t been getting home until late.” She swallowed. “Where do you go?”

  The radio was silent.

  “Are you there?”

  “I’m here.” He paused. “Maureen, Ruby said it’s an emergency. Is something wrong?”

  Her face lowered and she shut her eyes. Without pressing the button, she whispered, “You’re breaking my heart.”

  Silence. So much silence.

  “Maureen? Are you still there?”

  She pressed the button. “I’m here. There’s no emergency. I just wanted to see you and say I’m sorry about everything. I don’t want you to be mad at me anymore.”

  His voice sounded low over the speaker. “I’m not mad at you.”

  “Were you?”

  “For a bit, but I’m more mad at myself.” There was a pause. “I have to get back to work, Maureen.”

  Every time he said her name it only reminded her how he used to call her love. “When will I see you again, Frank. I…miss you.”

  “I need more time.”

  She nodded then realized he couldn’t see her. Her thumb pressed into the microphone. “I love you.”

  It took so long for him to answer she worried he’d walked away without a goodbye. “I love you too.”

  When she left the trailer Ruby smiled at her. Before then, she hadn’t known the woman had teeth. “Come back any time, hon.”

  Maureen rolled her eyes. People. She’d usually have a clever remark on the tip of her tongue, but nothing came as the pain in her heart consumed all her thoughts as she walked back to her car—alone and still unsure of her marriage.

  Frank finished his beer and tossed the empty can in the bed of his truck. He didn’t even have enough money to get drunk. What the hell was he going to do? Whether he raised the money or not, the house would be gone. When he drove by today the furniture was already being repossessed and loaded into a truck. He’d paid the one worker a hundred dollars just to let him grab a few pictures and
a couple of his mother’s dishes, but that was all they’d let him take.

  “Shit.”

  He’d made a terrible mistake. Maureen deserved a husband that could take care of her. He had no doubt he’d eventually get back on his feet, but the way things were going, that was a long way off.

  Usually, parents left their children a legacy. All his father left was a long line of debt. If he weren’t invested in the lumberyard none of this would matter. He could sell off the company and start over somewhere else. But he’d put too many years into that company and it held too much potential, despite his father’s efforts to bleed the accounts dry.

  It was a good business with the capability to feed generations. Unlike his father, he’d be damned if he left his children without a legacy to depend on. McCullough Lumber was just that, and he couldn’t let it go, couldn’t give up on the legacy his grandfather had started, the only legacy the McCullough family had left.

  He sat, drinking like he had for the past fourteen nights, frowning into the darkness over the lack of options left. A night owl caught his ear and he peered at the tree in the distance, remembering how foolish a boy he’d acted when he’d first fallen in love with his wife.

  She was only Maureen O’Leahey then and her future still stood a chance of being bright. Then she’d gone and tied her name to his and look at what had happened since.

  Sliding off the tailgate of his truck, he walked toward the tree, tilting his head as he squinted into the dark. His fingers dragged over the shadowed bark. There it was, their initials inscribed above the word forever. What a joke.

  He wanted to save her any way he could, cut her off from his struggle and set her free to choose again. His fist closed over his shirt, tugging as the pain built in his chest.

  He didn’t want to let her go, but what choice did he have? He couldn’t take care of her the way a husband should and he would not be his father. She deserved the love of a spouse that could afford to be present in her day-to-day life.

  His jaw locked as he breathed through his impotence to make a better life for her. Marching to his truck, he grabbed his ax and returned to the tree.