He caught her sleeve before she could get to the phone. “Ashlynn didn’t say anything, you nut. I bought the flowers. I picked them out, knowing you like the pink ones. I paid full price. And I did so just because I wanted to do something nice for you! Next time I’ll save myself the hassle and just bring you home a ham.”
He grabbed his hat by the door and shoved it on his head.
“You wanted to do something nice for me?” she asked in a small voice.
Lord, give me strength. He let out a slow breath and gritted. “Yes.”
“Why?”
Without facing her, he said, “Do I need a reason? I don’t show it enough, but…I love you. That’s all.”
She was silent—as rare as that was. It didn’t last. Quietly, she said, “That’s an awful big thing to go ahead and finish with that’s all.” She stepped closer to his back. “I love you too, you know. The flowers are lovely. Thank you.”
His shoulders sagged. She was a lot of things, but never easy. “You’re welcome.”
“Did you want to…go upstairs?”
His head turned slowly as he glanced over his shoulder. She smiled, a smitten grin on her face as she sniffed the flowers. Turning, he placed both hands on her shoulders. “You’re going to be the death of me, woman.”
Her eyes turned big. “Oh, well then we better hurry.” Her fingers gently brushed the graying hair at his temple. “I didn’t want to tell you, but you’re getting old.” Her hand slipped lower, traveling over his chest and down to his pants. “But you’re still as virile as ever. Let me just put these in some water.”
His chest filled as he breathed her in. She carried the roses to the kitchen and took her time, humming, as she arranged them in a vase. His body hardened as he watched her. She was still as beautiful as ever.
The screen door suddenly opened and Sheilagh wobbled in. “Mum, do you have the stuff to make rice pudding?”
Maureen removed her apron. “I do, dear, but you’ll have to wait. You’re father and I are about to go upstairs, so if I were you, I’d go back where you came from. I’ll make you pudding tonight.”
Sheilagh’s face paled. “Ew! What the hell is wrong with this family?”
Maureen slid her hand into his and he grinned. “Listen to your mother.”
Sheilagh gagged. “You two are disgusting.”
His wife tugged his arm. “Goodbye, Sheilagh.”
He turned and the screen door slammed with a snap. As he followed Maureen up the stairs, he chuckled. “You just scarred our daughter.”
“I made her pudding yesterday. She’ll live.”
He laughed. “I’m talking about the sex talk.”
“Pish. How on earth does she think she got here? And how do you think she got in the condition she’s in, Frank? That girl hasn’t been a virgin for some time.”
His smile fell. “That’s enough about the kids.”
She grinned wickedly and shut the door to their bedroom. “Don’t go all prudish on me now. I’ve got an hour until I need to start dinner.”
He crowded her against the door and breathed in the soft scent of her hair. “Then we’d better get cracking,” he whispered, his lips teasing her neck as his hands closed over her soft curves.
“I love you, Frank.”
“Mmmm.” He slowly unbuttoned her dress and she caught his hand, stilling him.
Her faded green eyes were serious as she whispered, “And I know you love me. You tell me in every glance you send my way, whether you’re rollin’ your eyes or trying to get fed. I know you and I love you and I know you love me. You don’t need flowers to tell me you do.”
Closing his eyes, he breathed out a sigh of relief, pulling her into him as he hugged her close and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “What would I do without you, love?”
She hugged him back. “You’d starve.”
He chuckled and tightened his arms. “True.” Laying his ear on her shoulder, holding her and enjoying the feel of her in his arms, he whispered, “I’d die of a broken heart long before starvation set in, Maureen. You may be a pain in the arse, but you’re my pain and I’d be lost without you.”
Her lips pressed to the back of his head. “And you’re mine.”
Bray sipped his beer, the sun setting low behind the trees backing up to his house as he, Colin and Kelly enjoyed the warming weather.
“This is a nice deck, Bray. Big,” Colin commented, admiring the newly stained woodwork.
Kelly snorted and Bray’s grin stretched wide. “Thanks, never a bad thing to be told you got a big deck,” Bray said, wiggling his brows.
Colin rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. I think Sammy would like a deck this big.”
Kelly couldn’t resist. “I bet she would. What girl doesn’t enjoy a big deck?”
“Shut up, I’m being serious,” Colin said, shaking his head.
Bray took a more serious tone. “Well, if you wanted a bigger deck we could build you one, Col.”
“I think we could fit it,” he said.
Kelly, silently cracking up, said, “Well, it’s something to think about. Sometimes the decks too big and then the girls start complaining. I should know.”
“You’re a child,” Colin grumbled.
“He’s right though,” Bray agreed, hiding a smirk. “I mean, the bigger the deck the more women can fit on it, but sometimes a deck can be too big.”
“And a big deck gets all the ladies to come—”
“Will you stop that!” Colin stood and tossed his beer in the recycling. “Forget I said anything.” He turned and walked toward the door of the house.
“Oh, come on, Col,” Kelly called. “You’re a McCullough! You’re entitled to a big deck!”
Braydon snorted as he tipped back his beer and the door slammed. “He’s so sensitive.”
Kelly’s smirk showed behind the mouth of his beer. “Deck envy.”
Becca came outside and Hunter took off running into the grass with a toy plane he’d just built. “Why did Colin leave? He seemed frustrated.”
“He’s just moping about his little deck,” Kelly said, standing to toss his empty bottle. “It’s hard to see someone else’s big deck and not get self-conscious.”
Becca stilled, her brow creasing, as she understood the play on word. “You guys are terrible.”
Bray pulled her to his lap and kissed her ear. “We’re gonna have to build him a deck.”
She shook her head and giggled. “Sammy did mention wishing she had a bigger deck to entertain.” And they all cracked up.
Kelly gave Bray a pat on the shoulder and kissed Becca’s cheek. “Have a good night, you guys.”
“You leavin’?” Bray asked.
Kelly shifted his belt and hiked up his pants. “Yeah. It’s almost Nate’s bedtime and I want to discuss decks with my wife.”
Bray laughed. “Have a good night, Kel.”
“You too.”
When his brother’s truck pulled away, Bray kissed his wife. He loved that his brothers could swing by on a moment’s notice to have a beer. As always, it was good to be home.
“What was that for?” Becca asked, a bit breathless.
“You. For being awesome and moving here.”
She smiled and nuzzled her nose to his neck. “You know we love it here.”
“I love you.” After a few minutes of enjoying his wife in his arms he nudged her off his lap and went to check on their son. “Bud, you want to see how high we can make that plane fly?”
Hunter turned and grinned. “Yeah!”
He glanced back to his wife. Her smile was soft and her eyes showed sweet adoration. Yeah, he never regretted his life. All the ups and downs brought him right to this moment and he was, without a doubt, happier than he’d ever been.
Leaping down the steps he joined Hunter and they played until the sun set, his laughter bounding into the forest, free and joyful.
The closer their anniversary crept and the more people fussed over the accomplishment, t
he more Frank felt his age. He knew the next benchmark people would be hassling him about would be retirement, and he wasn’t prepared to slow down yet.
As Tallulah sat on his lap reading him some tale about a girl named Amelia something, he considered his lineage. How lucky he was. Perhaps he didn’t take enough time to sit back and appreciate all the blessings he’d been given.
“Pop, are you listening?” Lula asked, her ‘s’s’ getting caught up in her lisp.
He pulled her close and kissed her head. “I am. Amelia’s going to open a lemonade stand.”
Her blue eyes turned on him, her breath sweet with the chocolate Maureen had just allowed her. “Can me and you make a lemonade stand? We can call it Pop-a-Lula’s Lemon’s.”
He chuckled. “Sure.”
“When?”
“Well…” They’d been reading for quite some time. “I could see what I have in the shed.”
Her eyes went wide. “You mean now?”
“Why not?”
“Mum-mum’s makin’ dinner.”
He tousled her hair and slid her off his lap. “Then we better build up an appetite. Building a lemonade stand is a lot of work.”
Her eyes danced with curious excitement. “Can I do the hammering?”
“Sure.”
Taking her tiny hand in his, he led her to the kitchen where she told Maureen all about their future enterprise. “And we’re gonna call it Pop-a-Lula’s Lemons!”
“I wanna help!” Katie’s Michael called from the table. It was always a toss-up whose kids they had on a Sunday.
“Yeah, Michael can help. We’ll call it Pop-a-Lulachael’s Lemons.”
“Sounds good.”
In the shed, Frank realized within five minutes how tedious it was to build something with little kids. After about the tenth ‘what’s this do?’ and thirtieth ‘don’t touch that’ he was ready to ask Maureen to bring him an aspirin, but this was what memories were made of, so he toughed it out.
As it got closer to dinner, Finn’s family showed up and the twins and Gianna decided to lend a hand. The stand would now be called Pop-a-Lulachael-Declachlanna’s Lemons.
The poor wood had nails hammered cockeyed over every square inch, but soon enough they had a base with two beams to fasten the big sign.
Maureen’s voice rang out like a foghorn. “Dinner! All you hooligans wash your hands. Girl’s upstairs, boy’s downstairs, and I better not find any floods in my bathrooms!”
Like a fleet of starved mini-maniacs, they ran screaming toward the house and he paused, staring at his wife, filling the doorway to their home. She lovingly touched each grandchild as they rushed by, and then slowly wandered to the shed.
“Quite the undertaking you’ve volunteered for,” she said, admiring the numerous nails hammered superfluously across the surface.
He collected the hammers, returning each one to his toolbox. “The kids are having fun.”
“I think their grandpop is having fun too.”
He tightened the lid on the jar of nails and shrugged. “It’s good for them to learn how to work with their hands.”
Her palm pressed into his chest as she went up on her toes. “And it’s good for you to show them. You’re very sweet with them, Frank.”
He swallowed. “I wish my father could have been there to do stuff like this with our kids.”
Her smile was soft as she stared into his eyes. Any comment would only detract from his intended meaning.
The setting sun faded into shades of pink and gold, highlighting the once vibrant red of her hair. It suddenly terrified him that she’d be alone someday.
He was feeling his years, especially the ones that put him ahead of her. “You know those boys of yours will do anything for you, Maureen. You never have to look far for a hand around here.”
Her brow creased. “I know that, Frank. But I’ve got you.”
He gently pinched her chin. “You’re prettier than ever, love. Age suits you.”
She shoved him. “We got a house full. Ice your balls and go wash up.”
He chuckled. That was his woman, tongue sharper than a blade and a mouth as filthy as a brothel. She bustled back to the house and he yelled, “I’ll be having you tonight!”
“We’ll see!” she yelled back without looking.
“Yeah, we’ll see,” he mumbled, as he leaned down to get the last of the tools.
A sharp squeeze of pressure tightened in his chest as he stood. He frowned and rubbed at the spot. That week he’d take a trip to the hardware store for some yellow paint. Maybe some red too.
He closed the shed and paused, his back suddenly aching and his lungs short of breath.
“Dad, you coming?” Colin yelled.
“Yeah,” he called, holding up a hand and gripping his elbow. He grunted as a steady ache traveled down his arm. “I’ll be right there.”
“Dad?”
Grimacing, he took a step and stilled. Pressure built in his shoulders as pain raced up his neck. He heard Colin shout and then the earth slammed into his knees as he went down, the pain stealing his breath and cutting out the sound of all else as the world went dark.
She was there, in her little dress, eyes wide as Van Morrison sung. He could never forget how much he wanted to rescue her, steal her away from that madness and have her all to himself. And then he did, as they raced down the interstate, windows low, in his old truck.
The scent of her floral perfume still freshly imprinted in his mind. She was like the rain, impossible to control, quick, and able to leave puddles as swiftly as she could bring a rainbow.
His mind skipped to another image, just after his father died. She’d brought him all that damn food and tidied up his home. He knew then he loved her more than he’d ever loved anything. What he didn’t understand was why she gave her love to him in return.
He saw her body writhing under his the night they first made love, her tears as he watched her break after losing their first baby. So many tears had followed, but only a small bit as sad as they were that day.
She was happiness. His happiness, their children’s happiness. Every birth, she showed her strength with only small glimpses of fear. She was so damn strong, yet he knew just how fragile she could be. And that was why he had to get through this.
The ambulance was like a rickety old amusement park ride, but he tolerated the prodding and nearness of the EMTs for her. She held his hand tight, gripping his fingers with the strength of a linebacker.
When they reached the hospital, he overheard his son’s asking endless questions as he was fit with an IV of something to ease the pain, maybe something more, because he couldn’t keep his eyes open.
Next he blinked and everything was calm.
“Frank?” Her voice was small.
Slowly, he turned his head on the over-bleached pillowcase, unsure when they moved him.
There she was. “Hello, love.”
Her brow creased with worry as she exhaled a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank the Lord. You scared ten years off my life, you bastard.” Her words were whispered, her lashes spiked with shed tears.
He squeezed her hand, which he still held. “Just keeping you on your toes.” He was drowsy and a little woozy. His body felt like it was hit by a bus. “What happened, Maureen?”
She sucked in a breath and dabbed her nose with a tissue. “You had a clot in your heart. It broke up by the time we got here, but the doctors are going to put you on some blood thinners to be safe.”
He frowned. Jesus. “A heart attack?”
“A little one. Just thank the good Lord you’re safe and awake and here with us now.”
As much as it pained him, he glanced around the room. “Where are the others?”
“They’re in the waiting room. Colleen and Rosemarie took all the kids. Do you want me to go get them?”
The room wouldn’t fit them. “No, just give me a few minutes.”
She nodded and he saw her fighting back tears.
“Hey
,” he whispered, wishing he had the strength to touch her face. She glanced at him, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m going to be okay, Maureen. It was just a little clot.”
“I know.” Her lips pursed. “I’ve just never been so frightened in all my life. You’re sixty-five years old. This stuff isn’t supposed to happen yet.” Swiping away her tears she said, “You’re stubborn as a mule and you eat like a beast, it’s probably my fault for allowing all those second helpings.”
“It’s not your fault, love.”
“I mean, you’re fit and you walk the lumberyard every day. I never thought to put you on a diet—”
“Now wait a minute—”
“But I’ve been talkin’ to Ashlynn and Mallory and they’ve given me some suggestions. Did you know they make bacon out of turkey now?”
“That sounds horrible.”
“They say it’s not.”
“Masochists.”
“Well, that’s what you’ll be having. I refuse to go through this again, do you hear me?” Her voice cracked. “You’re my husband and I need you.” Her chin quivered as tears build in her eyes. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I didn’t have you. I’d drive the kids nuts, and then they’d all leave me and I’d be all alone in that big house. Why did you make such a big house? I don’t want it without you, do you hear me Frank McCullough? So you had better just snap out of this and get yourself healthy before I become a basketcase of emotion and really lose my wits.”
“Hey, hey, hey, easy, lass. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll eat the damn turkey bacon.”
“You bet your arse you will. Look at me, I’m a drippy mess.”
He grinned, and found the strength to reach for her. His hand weakly cupped her jaw. “You love me.”
“You know I do, you jackass.”
“You love me too much, Maureen. You always have. And after all these years, I still can’t figure out why?”
Hold Me Fast (McCullough Mountain Book 7) Page 21
