Hold Me Fast (McCullough Mountain Book 7)

by Lydia Michaels

  The more he took her to the mountain the more she fell in love with all its secrets. Like a large bear, the snow would come and the land would sleep through the cold months of winter, but she wasn’t ready to let it go.

  Late November, just before Thanksgiving, he took her to the top of the mountain where he said a surprise waited. The wind whipped through the trees, the higher they went, and the altitude was enough to make her ears pop.

  He pulled the truck between two evergreens and put it in park. She stared at the open stretch of land, seeing three young trees, obviously freshly planted amongst the natural landscape. “What is this?”

  He opened the door. “Come with me.”

  They walked to the trees and a small stone rested in front of the center one. They were cherry blossoms, though this late in the year their flowers were gone. He held her hand as they slowly approached. When she saw the name on the stone, her legs refused to take another step.

  Mary

  Her heart pinched as he looked at her, sadness softening his eyes. “I know I didn’t hold her, but she was mine too, and I lost her. It seemed only right to do something for her.”

  Her throat tightened as her fingers drifted to her lips and her lashes grew heavy with tears. “Oh, Frank.”

  “Three trees,” he said. “One for her and one for each of her parents. We can put a tree for every child we have, Maureen, and one day there may be a copse to keep her spirit company, all from our love.”

  Her lips trembled as her tears quickly fell. Stepping forward, she dropped to her knees and traced her fingers over their daughter’s name. Her palm flattened on the rock and she prayed for God to guard her. “This is so special, Frank. I…I don’t know how to tell you what this means to me.”

  He lowered himself beside her and took her hand. “I’ve written you a letter, in case you need remindin’ of how I feel.”

  She took the letter and slowly unfolded it.

  My darling bride,

  I swear to you, God, and on all that I own, I will never stop loving you. I will not grow discontent with the mundane toils that build a life for our family. I will always take pride in providing a house for you to make a home, so long as you never stop filling it with love. I know the loss we suffered has cost you dearly, and if I could bear your pain, I would. I give you my vow, I will do everything in my power to fill the hollowness Mary left. Your heart will be full again, and filling your life with moments of love and happiness will be my greatest accomplishment. It is my vow to you. You will be happy.

  Your loving husband,

  Frank

  She lowered the paper and shut her eyes, her emotions getting the better of her. “You promise so much, Frank.” She shook her head, fearing how much she cared for this man, her love turning cumbersome and difficult to manage. She laughed. “You’re turning me into a weepy disgrace.”

  “I just wanted you to know.”

  She nodded and wiped her eyes. “I know. I’ll never doubt your affection again, you sweet, sweet man.”

  She folded the paper and lifted the stone. “I think I’ll leave this here, so I know where it is, whenever I need remindin’.”

  “I don’t tell you enough, but I love you, Maureen. I should tell you every morning and every night, so you don’t forget. I’m sorry for giving you reason to worry otherwise.”

  She smiled. “I suppose with someone that talks as much as I do it’s hard to get a chance to say what you feel.”

  “I could listen to you ramble for years, woman.”

  “Well that’s good, because we got a lifetime with each other ahead of us.”

  He grinned and nudged her with his shoulder. “Stand up. I want to show you something else.”

  He helped her off her knees and took her hand. They walked past the trees, over the knoll and down a slope on the south end of the hill. He pointed. “Look there.”

  Her eyes landed on a sprawling field and a house in the distance. They were very high on the mountain, and the house was on the neighboring peek, looking small, but she understood the house was anything but.

  The exterior was wood, logs stacked like toy blocks. Two mammoth chimneys made of stone anchored each side, but no smoke billowed from the tops. A large wrap around porch appeared to be in the process of being built. Lumber stacked here and there around the property, and a cluster of trucks parked off to the side.

  “That’s a big house.”

  “Aye.”

  “Do you know who lives there?” Whoever got to call that place home already earned her envy.

  “No one yet. The plumbing still needs finishing and electric has to be run. Tis a wedding present for the property owner’s wife.”

  “How lovely.” Her heart fluttered at such a romantic gesture. “I hope she appreciates it.” She smiled.

  “Me too.”

  A chill raced up her back as the hairs on her nape slowly rose. Not wanting to sound foolish or imply anything that might make him self-conscious, she carefully asked, “Frank, who owns that property?”

  He smiled. “You do, love. You and I. That’s McCullough Mountain.”

  Her stomach flipped as she took a step back. “What? But… How is that possible?”

  “I decided it would be wise to take a portion of the land and invest in our future. I’m tired of living without my wife.” He stepped close, running his hands down her arms and lacing his fingers with her numb ones. His forehead rested on hers. “Do you think you have enough love in that young heart of yours to fill a house of that size?”

  She swallowed, struggling to process a gift of such magnitude. “It’s a big house.”

  “Aye.”

  “I still don’t see how this is possible.”

  “I owned the land. The deed became mine when my father passed. I used the company as collateral to get a loan from the bank. Once I stopped trying to salvage my father’s droppings and considered starting from scratch, in my own name, things became a bit easier. We’ll have a payment for the next thirty years, but so long as trees continue to grow and McCullough Lumber continues to exist I think we’ll do just fine. Now, do you like the house, love?”

  She laughed. “I absolutely love it.”

  “You haven’t seen the inside yet.”

  “I don’t need to. Frank…it’s breathtaking.”

  He smiled, pleased. “We should be able to move in soon, if you don’t mind roughing it for a while. Once the electric and plumbing is finished, there’s nothing stopping us from staying there. As we settle in we’ll get furniture and whatever appliances you like.”

  “All I need is a bed.”

  He laughed. “Minx.”

  “And a table, a great big one, large enough for all our family to sit and talk.”

  “Aye. I’ll build you a table.”

  “And maybe a spare ice box for meats.”

  He nodded. “An ice box.”

  “And there should probably be a garage to keep the cars over winter, but something nice that matches the aesthetic style of the house. Maybe a barn or something.”

  He nodded again, his expression somewhat overwhelmed. “Right, well in time we’ll work on—”

  “And I’ve always fancied a tree swing where the children could play. It should be outside the kitchen window so I can watch them while I’m making supper.”

  “I’ll plant a tree.”

  “Plant several. If we have boys they’ll like climbing them. Maybe a weeping willow tree for shade in case they have fair skin like me.”

  “How about I get you a notepad and you write all this down.” He turned and headed back toward the truck.

  “We’re just talkin’. No need to get overwhelmed. But you’ll want to make sure the pantry’s big. If we’re going to have a lot of children we’ll need space for food.”

  He held the door and helped her in.

  “We should have our own bathroom too.”

  He shut the door, rounded the truck, and slid behind the wheel.

  �
�We’ll choose the paint together.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “And a house that big comes with a lot of windows. I’ll be needin’ a measurement of each one with a detailed list of which room it belongs in so I can start sewing the curtains and drapes.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “I think it would be nice to have a yellow bedroom, don’t you? Or, no, perhaps a nice cornflower blue.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  The newer power tools came with a pull start, one swift tug and the friction of the spring-loaded pawl lifts, starting an internal combustion strong enough to make a lawnmower, a chainsaw, or even a small vehicle go. Maureen’s mouth was sort of like that. And building her a house was just the tug that got her motor running.

  Frank didn’t quite grasp all the nagging wife jokes at first. Perhaps that was because he and Maureen had yet to live as a married couple. He got them now, but they weren’t so funny anymore.

  Maureen was like a jar full of tornadoes, begging to be set free. The moment he gave her purpose she stormed in and changed everything. Every day she showed up at the jobsite, arguing with plumbers and electricians. The woman didn’t understand that time went into blueprints and every change cost them. She’d alter an entire room, simply because it made sense to have an outlet where she wanted to use her blender.

  The men now referred to her as The Foreman, not just for this project, but the foreman of his life. Her mother was no treat either. Sure, Mrs. O’Leahey was a bit more accepting than Mr. O’Leahey, but that seemed to give her the impression she had the final say in things. If Maureen felt something should be a certain way and he disagreed, her mother was right there calling him an idjit or jackass or something worse.

  And then there were her sisters. When the three of them were together there was no winning. Like three witches, they cackled and pointed fingers and whatever they wished seemed to come their way.

  The only good thing about Maureen and her family getting involved was that it made the men anxious to finish the job and the work sped up. By early December the plumbing and ductwork were complete and every room had functioning outlets.

  He’d assumed things would be easier now that the brunt of work was done, but that was naïve. The day the floors were being finished he’d come to check on the men only to find Maureen’s Falcon haphazardly parked out front.

  “Christ.” He yanked his keys out of the ignition and went to find her. No one could walk on the floors for twenty-four hours once they were sealed and today was the day he wanted them done. “Maureen!”

  “Frank? Get in here!”

  Taking a deep breath, he walked into the room that would be the den. Jimmy stood with a mop and bucket of lacquer in his hand. “Mr. McCullough, I tried to get started but she won’t let me.”

  “Maureen, what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is I don’t like that finish. It’s too dark and it’ll show all the dust.”

  “It’s the finish I picked. It’ll match the cabinets.”

  “Well I sure as shit don’t recall discussing it. I never would have settled on such a dark color. You’ll have to send it back.”

  “I can’t send it back. The second floor’s already been done.”

  “What?”

  He sighed and sent his employee an apologetic look. “Take a walk, Jimmy.”

  “Yes, sir.” Obviously anxious to leave, he made a quick escape.

  “Maureen, you cannot come in here and interfere with the men. They have a job to do and their only doing what I told them. You come in and tell them something else and they don’t know who to listen to.”

  “Oh, well tell them they should listen to me.”

  He grit his teeth. “I don’t want them to listen to you. I want them to do what I tell them.”

  She huffed. “Fine.”

  “Fine?” That seemed a bit too easy.

  “Yes, fine. We’ll just have a gaudy house. It’s fine. I’ll buy throw rugs and work my fingers to the bone dusting the dirty floors so no one sees our collective filth. And when they say, Maureen, why are you always so tired? I’ll simply explain, because my husband didn’t want to listen to me and bought the wrong finish for our floors.”

  He rolled his eyes. “For the love of Christ.”

  She stepped close to him and brushed her hand over his chest. “Please, Frank. A nice honey would be so much easier to care for.”

  He glared at her. “You are a pain in my arse, woman.”

  “But you love me.”

  “Aye,” he grumbled.

  And so the first floor of the house was finished in a warm honey. She didn’t always get her way, but most of the time she did. She always had some far-fetched explanation to justify her methods and he never stopped finding her rationale amusing. When he did bend, she gave as well, always showing him how much she appreciated his concession. It made giving in to her an easy thing to do.

  When a project was as consuming as building a house, one lost sight of time going by. There was always something left to improve and he wasn’t sure any house was ever perfect or complete. It felt odd, reaching the end of construction, but, slowly, the crew returned to the field and got back to doing what they were best at—cutting lumber and logging.

  The table was his contribution as were the cabinets. It was a fine table, large and sturdy, great enough to fit twenty bodies. The kitchen was the gem of the house and he knew his wife would bring it to life.

  As he stared at the long farm table, he imagined children filling the benches, some dark haired like himself, others with Maureen’s fiery locks, and maybe even a few with the flaxen curls of his mother. It was a good table, the sort that would last for decades.

  As he took the stairs, inspecting each null post and every rung, he smirked at the top step where the floor changed from honey to dark maple. The hall was long, doors spaced evenly for all the bedrooms.

  Turning left, he stood outside the master bedroom and breathed in a breath of satisfaction. He’d told her to meet him there tonight and bring dinner. It would be the first night they spent together as husband and wife in their new home. Never again would they sleep apart.

  Turning the knob, the door gave and he crossed the threshold. Furniture would come. But for now they had everything they needed. An enormous bed stood against the far wall. Exposed wood made up the interior perimeters of the house. He grinned, reading their initials, just the way he carved them, above the word forever.

  “Frank?”

  “I’m in the bedroom,” he called.

  “Are you coming down? I brought dinner.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  He sighed and took a moment to adjust the coverlet she’d made. Blue it was, with soft yellow trim. She’d done a beautiful job on the curtains and pillows. Little touches, just like his mother used to make, were slowly turning this house into a home.

  Taking the stairs slowly, he sensed her presence and drew great pleasure from her nearness. Turning right at the foot of the stairs, he entered the kitchen, and stilled.

  “Welcome home, my love,” she said, sitting on the edge of the table in nothing but her wedding ring.

  His throat was instantly dry. He smelled food, but had a hungering for something else. Slowly, he stepped to the table and dragged a finger over the milky slope of her shoulder and down to the tip of her breast. “Do you know how bonny you are, Maureen McCullough?”

  Her lashes lowered as she nuzzled her cheek to his hand. “We could eat, or we could get to christening this house. It’s very big, so it’ll likely be a long ceremony.”

  “I’ve always been of the religious sort.” He stepped between her knees and yanked her forward. “I say we christen her.”

  Leaning in, he sealed his lips to hers and kissed her deeply. Her body arched into his, so eager and unabashed. As he laid her back on the table, she dragged her hands over his chest and shoulders, wrapping her legs around his hips and using her heels to pull him closer.

/>   That night they made love in the kitchen, the den, and three of the eight bedrooms. When they finally got around to having supper they were famished.

  As they lay in their bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, they smiled through the moonlight. “Thank you, Frank, for building us such a lovely house.”

  He kissed her softly. “Thank you, Maureen, for making it a home.”

  She reached for him under the covers and he arched a brow. “Again?”

  “What can I say? We have a lot of lost time to make up for. It’s normal for newlyweds to want each other all the time.”

  “I’ll never get enough of you, love.” He rolled her to her back and kissed her.

  “Oh, pish. I’m sure you’ll be sick of me someday. I imagine you’ll want to strangle me by the time we’re sixty.”

  “There’ve already been days I’ve wanted to strangle you, but I still love you and I still want you, same as I will then, same as I will always.”

  She smiled and ran a hand over his strong jaw. “My sweet husband.”

  “My sweet, caring, insane wife.”

  Chapter Nine

  “So help me God if you touch me I’ll rip off your balls and shove them down your throat, you rutting swine! You did this to me!”

  “How are we doing?”

  Thank Christ the nurse was back. “I think she’s ready.”

  The nurse examined his wife briefly and helped her get more comfortable.

  “Thank you so much,” Maureen sighed.

  Sure, she’s nice to everyone else.

  “I think you’re far enough along to move to the birthing room now. I’ll let the doctor know.”

  Maureen nodded and as the nurse left she held out a hand to him. Reluctantly, as if it were a trap, he approached.

  “Oh, Frank, can you believe the day has finally come?”

  He couldn’t. It seemed like just yesterday he was holding her in his arms as they said goodbye to Mary. Still too afraid to trust their blessing, he worried over the last stretch before the finish. Once he knew his wife was safe and their child was healthy, then he’d relax and celebrate. It seemed like he hadn’t exhaled in nine months.