“Oh, honey, that's wonderful.” Brooke truly meant it. Karissa and Seth would be the perfect pair, she mused. Why hadn't she seen it before? she wondered. Probably because she'd rarely been home, and had basically ignored her roots, and pretty much all things MacKenna for the past eight years. She had to admit that she was ashamed of that.
Karissa shook her head. “No, it's not wonderful,” she whispered. “It's horrible, and it's humiliating.”
“Why would you say that, Rissa?” Brooke's voice was full of concern.
“Because Seth doesn't have the same feelings for me, that's why,” she managed. “Do you know what it's like to love someone, someone you've known your entire life, and know that there's no future for you with him?”
Brooke just stared at her, sadness crossing her face. Karissa immediately realized her mistake. “Oh, Brooke, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”
Brooke knew her sister truly was. Karissa didn't have a hurtful bone in her body. Brooke waved her apology away.
“It's okay.” Karissa reached out to take her hand. “And yes, I do know what it's like. I also know how much it hurts to love a MacKenna,” Brooke said, a hint of sadness in her voice. “How do you know Seth doesn't share those feelings? Have you talked to him about it?” Brooke asked. The look on Karissa's face was comical, and Brooke had to laugh.
“Of course not,” she said, biting her lower lip and frowning. “And I want you to promise me that you won't tell anyone. And that means not a living soul,” Karissa said, matter-of-factly.
“I promise.” Brooke crossed her heart, something they used to do when they were kids and you were taking a secret with you to the grave. “But I think you're going to see that you're wrong about Seth.”
Karissa hoped Brooke was right about that. She hoped more than anything that she was right.
Sunday dinners at the MacKenna home had become a much anticipated event over the past two years. Once her boys had all left home, daily life had changed a lot. Logan had left the nest first, heading back east to Harvard. The following year Seth had enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps and left for basic training. After, he'd been stationed in several places, including the U.S. and overseas. He'd learned drafting and design while in the military, which he loved. When he was discharged after four years of service, he attended college to earn his degree in architecture. Chase was the last of her boys to leave home, and studied here and there while on the racing circuit, where he'd made quite a name for himself.
Diana hadn't cared for her boys being away from home one bit. When they'd all been home on break or during the summer, things seemed more normal. Otherwise, they hadn't been the same, not for many years. Chase had finally found his way home, thank goodness. He loved racing, but his true passion was to build and restore cars. He'd come home to open his own shop, and he'd been very successful. Seth and Logan had come home to stay within a relatively short time span of each other. Diana was thankful every single day that her boys had been brought back to her. Their family hadn't been complete without them.
The past two years had been full of family love and bonding. Diana loved having all three of her sons home together. It reminded her of when they were young and there had been plenty of time for family. She just wished they would find suitable wives and settle down, start families. She was dying to have little grandchildren running around her home, laughing and playing, caught up in the innocence of childhood. She would teach them, and be an example to them. And love them unconditionally. Just as she had with her own boys. But it didn't appear as if it was going to happen anytime soon. She sighed, and popped the baked ziti into the oven.
Heading to the family room to see what her men were up to, she stopped at the doorway and watched them. Her boys had some similar qualities; they were all handsome, intelligent, honest, caring men who had hearts of gold. They were willing to help anyone, anytime, and never expected a thing in return. That's because they knew they would be rewarded for their goodness, in the way it really mattered. Diana loved that about them.
They also each had their own personalities. Logan, her oldest, was determined and thoughtful. Seth, her middle child, was more serious, but charming and funny. Chase, her baby, was carefree and a dreamer. He was a people person, and loved interaction. But regardless of their individual traits, they all shared one thing in common. They were MacKenna's, born and bred. They needed their home, their family, and their roots to survive.
Diana thought of the fateful night that had brought Seth to them. He had been ten years old when his parents were killed in that tragic car accident. His father, Michael, was Nicholas' younger brother. He and his wife, Isabelle, had been on their way to a Christmas party when another driver lost control of his car on an icy road and hit them head-on. They died instantly.
Seth came to live with them from that moment. He was a first cousin to Logan and Chase, but they'd never thought of him that way. To them, he was their brother, and they loved him like one. Diana and Nicholas embraced him as their son, and Seth made their family complete.
They were watching the race, and Nicholas sat with them huddled on the sectional, his eyes glued to the big-screen TV. Even after having lived with sports in her home for so many years, Diana still didn't understand their fascination with watching a bunch of grown men speed around a race track in circles doing one hundred and thirty miles per hour. They were fools, if you asked her. She just didn't get it, and likely never would. But her men enjoyed sports, all sports mostly, and sometimes sacrifices had to be made. They'd better remember that when it came time for them to tolerate something she enjoyed. They were typical men, she mused. But they were her men, and she wouldn't have them any other way.
“Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes,” she announced. Their half-hearted grumbles didn't faze her; she'd gotten used to them over the years. She was about to head back into the kitchen when the front doorbell sounded. Who might that be, she wondered. Detouring to the front door, Diana pulled it open to find Brooke standing on her porch. To say she was delighted to see her was an understatement.
“Brooke, darling, come in,” she said, taking Brooke's arm and leading her into the house. “It's so good to see you. I was wondering when you were going to stop by and visit.” Diana was as hospitable as ever, Brooke thought, smiling warmly at her. Diana wrapped her arms around Brooke and squeezed tight, holding on for a minute. She had been a big part of Brooke's life all of the years Brooke had lived in Angel Ridge. And also Karissa's and her parents' lives, Brooke thought. She'd always been like a second mother to her and Rissa. And Nicholas had been a second father.
“Mama, Dad wants to know if you---” Logan stopped short, his words trailing off when he saw Brooke standing in the foyer embracing his mother. It touched him, and reminded him of so many times before when he'd witnessed this closeness between the two of them. He wondered what had brought her over.
Diana stepped back, and spotted the bundle that Brooke carried.
“What have you got there, honey?” Diana asked, eyeing the case she carried.
“Oh, just a fresh, piping hot homemade apple pie compliments of mama,” Brooke answered, gently waving the carry case back and forth in the air. “Nothing you'd be interested in,” she added, teasingly.
“Would you care to bet on that?” Diana teased back.
“She wanted me to bring it over before it cooled.”
“Oh, how thoughtful,” Diana beamed. “I'll give her a call after dinner to thank her personally. I wanted to talk to her anyway.” She took the case that Brooke held out to her. Brooke smiled, and Diana cupped her cheek with the palm of her hand.
“So tell me, Brooke honey, how have things been going since coming home?” Diana was curious. She knew that Logan and Brooke had run into each other a handful of times, but that was all she knew. She loved her sons, and because she did, she'd made it a point not to involve herself in their love lives. They were grown men, and in her mind, they should be able to handle their own affairs when it came
to that sort of thing.
“I can't really complain,” Brooke answered, a bit uncomfortable. The hell she couldn't, Logan thought. Diana caught the hesitation in her voice, and remembered that Logan was still standing there. He'd been so quiet she'd forgotten.
“Logan, sweetie, what did your father need?” she asked. Logan took a second to regain his train of thought.
“He wants to know if you remember where he put his reading glasses.
She looked back at Brooke and smiled. “He wants to know if I remember where he put his reading glasses,” she said, shaking her head playfully, her stylish blonde hair bobbing back and forth. “What would our men do without us?” she teased.
Brooke met Logan's gaze. He watched her speculatively, and she wondered what he was thinking at that moment.
“It just so happens that I do remember,” she said to Logan. “Tell him that they're in the drawer of the table next to the recliner, would you, sweetie?”
“Will do, mama,” he said, as she rubbed his shoulder affectionately. He leaned down to kiss her cheek, then turned and headed back to the man cave.
She looked at Brooke, and just smiled. Tears misted her blue-gray eyes. When alarm crossed Brooke's face, Diana just waved it off.
“I'm just so happy to see you. I've thought about you so many times over the years. We've missed you, Brooke.”
“I've missed you, too.” Brooke took Diana's hands in hers.
“Please, stay for dinner,” Diana said. “I'm making baked ziti, and I happen to know it's one of your favorites.” She used her most persuasive voice.
“Thank you, so much, for asking, but I really shouldn't.”
“And why shouldn't you, exactly?” Diana asked, one perfectly arched eyebrow raised.
Brooke opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it again. How could she tell Diana MacKenna that the reason she couldn't stay for dinner was because she was a big chicken? That she couldn't trust herself to be near Logan because she wanted him entirely too much? And that her heart, even after all this time, still wasn't ready for him.
“That's what I thought,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Come with me into the kitchen while I finish up a few things for the meal,” Diana urged. Brooke followed her past the enormous formal dining room, down a small hallway, and into the kitchen. The smells were incredible. The smell of marinara and oregano filled the room, and Brooke couldn't help but breathe it in. Diana had always made exceptional Italian.
Brooke took a seat at the breakfast bar while Diana began taking out fresh produce from the refrigerator and setting it on the island next to the sink. Brooke watched while she washed vegetables—lettuce, tomato, cucumber, baby carrots, celery—and set them to dry. Next, she brought out a bowl of green olives and set them on the counter, as well, followed by previously-sliced onion, croutons and various dressings.
“I was going to bake a cake, but since Raelyn sent over that delicious-smelling apple pie, I think we'll have that for dessert.” She had finished with preparations for the salad, and took a seat next to Brooke, settling comfortably into it. “I made a loaf of Italian bread, too,” she told Brooke. “Logan bought me a bread maker last year and I've never used it. I guess you could say I'm a traditional kinda gal.” She winked and Brooke smiled. “Anyway, I decided to try it out tonight, so let's cross our fingers that it makes a mean bread loaf,” she said, and made Brooke laugh.
“If you want to hand me a knife, I'll start chopping vegetables for the salad,” Brooke offered, and laughed when Diana put one in her hand in less than five seconds flat.
“I never turn down help in the kitchen,” she said, as she began chopping lettuce. “Well, hardly ever,” she added. “The boys usually help out. All of my boys are good cooks,” she said with pride in her voice. “They certainly know their way around a kitchen.”
“I suppose they'd better, or they could risk starvation,” Brooke remarked, a smile on her lips. “Although, living right down the road from your mama has its benefits, I'm sure,” Brooke teased. Both women laughed at that, and continued to chop.
“So,” Diana began, “how do you like being back in Angel Ridge? I'm sure it's a lot different from California, isn't it?”
“It's very different,” Brooke agreed. “I love California; it's beautiful. There's the mountains and the coast, the exciting, fast-paced cities. Interesting people. There's a little bit of everything, I suppose,” she said. Diana watched her, her interest piqued. “But Montana is equally as beautiful. I was born here; I grew up here. I have a connection still. When it comes right down to it, I suppose I will always consider it my home.”
Diana had argued with herself over whether or not to bring up the subject of Logan and the past. On one hand, she knew it was none of her business. And it was history. But on the other hand, she had wanted to say a few things on the subject for so long, and hadn't had the opportunity until now. She was about to break one of her most important rules. But she could learn to live with it.
“I'm so sorry, Brooke, for what happened between you and Logan,” she began.
Brooke glanced up momentarily to find that Diana's attention was focused on slicing a cucumber, and not directly on her as she spoke. God, she'd dreaded having to have this conversation. But she continued to slice and just listened.
“It was something none of us ever expected.” She looked up then to meet Brooke's stare, and her eyes were filled with compassion.
“I know exactly what you mean.” Brooke replied, an unmistakeable sadness in her voice. It tugged at Diana's heartstrings.
She thought of that spring eight years before, when her baby had come home from college devastated, emotionally broken. He lay in bed for weeks, not eating, not even sleeping, really. Just laying there. He'd cut off all communication with not only the outside world, but with his family, as well. No one could reach him.
After nearly a month of that, and his depression worsening, Nicholas literally had to break down his bedroom door one night because he'd barricaded himself inside and wouldn't speak to anyone. Not even to Diana. When she'd finally gotten him to open up and talk, she was horrified by what he had to say. He had no reason left to live. He wanted to kill himself. To stick a gun in his mouth and just end it. His depression was so severe that she forced him to seek treatment. And threatened to take him to a psychiatric hospital if he didn't.
Luckily, therapy seemed to help, at least enough that he stopped talking about committing suicide, and began to function more normally. By late August, he went back to Harvard to attend graduate school. He had begun the healing process, but he was a long way from being emotionally healthy. Her son, her beautiful boy, had never been the same. To this day, it had changed him in a way that hurt Diana's heart, and made her sad to even think about it.
“I just wanted you to know that, darling. That I wish things would have worked out differently, and that I'm sorry for what you went through. I can only imagine what it was like for you.” She didn't want to pry, so she decided to leave it at that. On a more cheerful note, she added,”Could you pass the celery, please?”
Brooke did, and grabbed a tomato for herself and went to work. She sliced quickly and competently, Diana noticed, and had to admit that she was impressed.
“How did you learn to use a knife like that?” she asked.
“I don't know, really” Brooke responded. “I can't claim to be a master chef or anything, but I, too, can find my way around a kitchen.” Diana smiled as she started on the carrots. “I'm pretty impressive with a scalpel, too,” Brooke added, teasingly. They were laughing together when the men piled into the kitchen. All of them.
“Well, hello beautiful.” Chase said, planting a kiss on Brooke's lips. He took a seat on the opposite side of his mother, because it was closest to the food. He snagged a cucumber and bit into it. Seth leaned against the counter next to Brooke, and popped a couple of olives into his mouth. Logan stood on the other side of the island near the range, dipping a piece of bread into his mothe
r's marinara sauce.
“I would scold them all for spoiling their appetites before dinner, but it wouldn't do any good,” Diana said.
“Because they won't listen anyway?” Brooke wanted to know.
“There's that,” she agreed, “but mostly because nothing ruins their appetites.” Brooke laughed, a light coming alive in her eyes. Logan noticed it, and thought that she looked genuinely happy at that moment. No sadness, only joy. It looked good on her.
“Where's your father?” Diana asked, looking between the three of them.
“He fell asleep reading in the recliner,” Seth informed her. “It sucks getting old,” he added. Brooke was just putting the last of the vegetables into the salad bowl when the timer on the oven sounded.
“Looks like dinner's ready,” Diana said, getting up from her chair. “Logan, sweetie, would you take the ziti out of the oven? I'll go wake your father.” She disappeared through the kitchen entryway.
Brooke watched Logan as he lifted the baking dish out of the oven and turned to place it on top of the range. It was so ridiculously hot that Brooke could feel the heat emanating from it. He cursed, and nearly dropped it onto the counter. Luckily, he had it set down nearly all the way, and it made only a loud thud as he let one side go. Tossing the pot holders onto the counter, he cursed again as he nursed the fingertips on his right hand. Brooke jumped up from her chair and rushed to the other side of the island.
“Let me see,” she said, reaching for his hand.
“It's fine,” Logan mumbled. “Just a little burn.”
“Well, we need to get it under the cool water, quickly.” She tugged on his hand, pulling him gently toward the sink. Turning on the cold tap, she shoved Logan's fingers under the stream of water. The cool water on his burning fingertips felt good, soothing. “Just let the water run on them for a couple of minutes,” she directed him. He did, but that was about as far as he was going to go with this. He would make a horrible patient. He knew, because they'd been down that road, years before. The thought of it made his lip quirk.
Second Chance at Love (The MacKenna Born & Bred Trilogy) Page 8
