by Marta Perry
Ryan snatched up a handful of candy and blew a kiss to his mother. “If you run out, I’ll go buy some more. I’ll charge it to Brendan.”
“What makes you think I have any money?” Brendan cuffed him lightly. “Come on, let’s hang the rest of these decorations before they really do cut us off. Terry, come tell us where the wedding bells go.”
He went back into the living room, and she could breathe naturally again. Not that being this close to Brendan bothered her, she assured herself. Why would it? They were friends, and that was all. They’d settled that between them several nights ago. Just because they were spending a Saturday afternoon together getting ready for the shower didn’t mean she had to overreact.
And just because he’d shown up wearing shorts and a Suffolk Fire Department T-shirt that showed off every muscle didn’t mean she had to notice, did it?
Friends, she reminded herself. She frowned at the strip of ribbon she’d been trying to tie around the favor. It looked as if she’d shredded it. She tossed the ribbon aside and started with a new one.
“There, that looks nice.” Mary Kate admired a full tray of favors and deftly moved it out of reach of her daughter’s hands. “I love doing things like this.” She flashed a smile, much like her father’s. “I’m glad we’re doing this together.”
“Me, too.” Stacy added. She picked up the tray. “I’ll put these in the kitchen.”
“I don’t suppose she’s done many things together with a family,” Siobhan said softly as the door closed behind Stacy. “Poor child.”
Claire’s heart tightened. Would Siobhan pity her, if she knew more about Claire’s background? The thought made her hands clench.
“Stacy’s going to be all right.” That came out sounding more defensive than she intended.
“Of course she is.” Siobhan looked a little surprised. “Goodness, you’ve done wonders with her, Claire. She’s so excited about the job you got for her. She can’t wait for Monday morning and her first day.”
She regretted betraying her feelings, but it was too late now. What was it about the Flanagans? They brought out all sorts of emotions she’d done without for years.
“I didn’t really get her the job. She did that herself. I just helped her get ready, that’s all.”
“You can take me to your hairdresser any time you want.” Mary Kate ruffled her red curls. “I’m ready to get this all cut off.”
Under cover of the chorus of protest from Siobhan and Nolie, Claire picked up the iced-tea pitcher and went into the kitchen. The Flanagans got under her guard. Maybe it was the stress of the wedding, bringing feelings to the surface that she thought she’d safely buried a long time ago.
Stacy stood at the counter, looking at her reflection in the microwave. She turned, grinning, at Claire’s approach. “I still can’t believe it’s me.”
“You do look different.”
That was an understatement. The ragged waif was gone, replaced by a girl whose hair shone and face glowed. She looked—Claire struggled for the comparison she wanted, and then she had it.
Stacy looked loved. Cherished. Funny, how easily you could tell that about a person.
Stacy patted her stomach, just beginning to round. “Pretty soon I’ll look pregnant, won’t I?” The faintest tremor sounded in her voice.
Claire squeezed her shoulder. “You’ll still look great,” she said. “Hey, I saw a cute tunic top at the store that would be terrific for the summer. I’ll pick up a couple of them for you.”
Stacy turned. Before Claire caught her intent, she’d hugged her. “Thanks.” Stacy’s voice was muffled. “For everything.”
Heart aching, she patted the girl’s back. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.”
“Right.” Stacy drew back and carefully blotted the tears that had been about to spill over. “Don’t know why I get so weepy sometimes.”
“Pregnancy hormones.” Siobhan stood in the doorway with the last tray of favors. “That’s all it is.”
Stacy nodded. “That’s what it said in that book you gave me.” She moved to the refrigerator. “I’ll take the sandwiches in now. I bet the guys are getting hungry.”
“They’re always hungry,” Siobhan said, moving out of the way as Stacy pushed through the swinging door. She smiled at Claire as the door closed. “She really is going to be all right, you know.”
“I hope so.” She shook her head. “One minute I’m happy about the way she looks, and the next I’m worried about it because if Ted sees her, her appearance might make his behavior worse.”
“I know.” Siobhan patted her shoulder in much the same way she’d tried to reassure Stacy. “I’ve wasted a lot of energy in my time trying to cope with things that hadn’t happened yet. Don’t you do that.”
Irrationally, she felt better. “I’ll try not to.”
“Good.” Siobhan picked up a full tea pitcher. “You’re doing a good thing with that girl, Claire. Please, don’t second-guess yourself about it.”
She followed Stacy toward the dining room, dodging Brendan as she went through the swinging door.
He held the door for her and then let it swing closed.
“Getting some good advice from my aunt?”
“She is talented in that department.” Claire tweaked a bow on one of the favors. That was better than looking into Brendan’s eyes and wondering what he was feeling. “She kind of reminds me of my mother.”
“How so?” Brendan hoisted himself onto the scrubbed oak table, obviously prepared to stay and talk awhile.
She shrugged, uncomfortable with the subject even though she was the one who’d brought it up. “I don’t know. Having a gift for making a home, I guess. The talent passed me by.”
She glanced around the kitchen, its countertops cluttered with all the stuff that was dropped by a busy family. The cabinets were a warm pine, and pots of herbs overflowed the windowsills. This kitchen really was the heart of the home. The cliché struck her with its truth.
“Don’t sell yourself short in that department. You just haven’t had as much practice.”
And she never would. The thought struck her as terribly lonely, somehow. More Flanagan influence, no doubt.
“Nolie’s going to be part of this.” The thought was out before she considered how it sounded.
“I guess she is.” Brendan slid off the table, the movement bringing him too close to her. “That’s part of marriage—becoming part of a whole new family.” His voice deepened. “You know, Gabe and I have always been close. Closer than brothers, really.”
She risked a glance up at him. His face was very intent, his eyes serious.
“The first time I saw the way Gabe looked at Nolie, I knew how it was going to be with them.” He gave a lopsided smile. “I have to confess, I felt jealous. Things wouldn’t be the same with Gabe and me.”
“Do you still feel that way?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But when I see how happy he is, I can’t begrudge that. And now I have Nolie as well.” His smile grew. “That’s worth a lot, isn’t it?”
He recognized her jealousy for what it was, but he didn’t condemn that. He understood.
“It won’t be the same.” She echoed his words.
“No, I guess it won’t. For any of us.” He touched her wrist lightly, and she seemed to feel that touch in every separate cell of her body. “Nothing stays the same. Would you want it to?”
She had to struggle to answer over the thudding of her pulse against his hand. “I guess not. But it’s hard, even so.”
His fingers tightened against her skin. “Maybe that’s the real purpose behind all of this wedding hoopla. It helps us make the transition from one relationship to another. All of us, not just the bride and groom.”
“So you’re finally seeing the value of favors and parties?” She managed a smile.
“You were right about having all the wedding trimmings, okay? I confess.” His face lightened. “I admit I didn’t know it all.”
If she looked into his smiling eyes any longer, someone would have to wipe her off the floor with a sponge. “I’m glad you finally see that.” She pulled her hand away, feeling as if she left part of herself behind. “Never underestimate the power of a woman.”
“Hey, I already gave in, didn’t I?” He held the door for her and then followed her into the dining room. “My aunt Siobhan taught me that.”
Siobhan, putting sandwiches out on the table, looked up at that with a warm smile, and Claire became choked with emotion again. Like it or not, these people were having an effect on her. The question was, could she go back and be content with who she was once all this was over?
Brendan shoved the porch swing with one foot and groaned. “I ate too much. As always when I’m here.”
Stacy, sitting next to him, polished off the last crumbs of her slice of cake with her finger. “Your aunt is really a good cook. She’s teaching me how to make some things, too. I never learned anything like that before.”
“That’s good.”
He found he was exchanging glances with Claire, who occupied the bentwood rocker opposite him. Claire was probably thinking what he was—that Stacy had been shortchanged in the parenting department. Or was Claire remembering her own growing-up years without a mother to guide her?
“I could stand some lessons, too,” Claire said. “About the only thing I make is broiled chops and baked potatoes. You don’t have to think too much about those.”
Stacy looked down at her hands. “I tried to call my mother again today. I wanted to show her my new haircut and tell her about my job. But she’s still not there.”
He pushed back the wave of anger at a mother who’d just go off without a thought in the world for the well-being of her child. “I’m sure she’ll come back soon. She’ll be happy when she hears about your job.”
“Sure she will,” Claire added.
Stacy’s mouth twisted. “I guess.”
He put his hand over hers. “Hey, what’s going on? You can tell us.” He sensed Claire leaning forward in her chair and felt a flood of support from her.
“Nothing,” Stacy mumbled. “It’s just—” She put her hand protectively over her stomach in what was probably an unconscious gesture. “If my mom hadn’t been stuck with me, maybe her life would have been different. Maybe my dad would have stayed around. She always says he’s the only man she ever loved, and he left because of me.”
His fingers tightened on hers, and he had to battle the rage before he could speak. “It’s not your fault.” That came out louder than he intended, and Stacy looked up at him, startled. “What your parents did or didn’t do is not because of you. They have to carry that responsibility themselves.”
“Yeah, but—”
“No buts.” He could hear the passion in his voice, and he knew that Claire heard it, too. “Listen, if you don’t remember anything else I’ve ever told you, remember this. Your parents made bad decisions before you were even born. They’ve gone on making bad decisions, but that’s not your fault.”
Claire leaned forward until their knees were touching. She put her hand on theirs, and hers was cool and comforting.
“Brendan’s right, Stacy. They made a lot of mistakes, but none of them were because of you. And now you have a chance to make the right choices. You don’t have to be angry with them anymore, but you also don’t have to make the same mistakes they did.”
Stacy took a moment to process that. “Yeah. You’re right. I can do the right thing for my baby.” She stood, brushing away tears with the back of her hand. “Guess I’ll go help Siobhan finish up the dishes.” A smile trembled for a moment on her lips. “Thanks.”
The screen door slammed behind her. All he could do was stare at Claire. “Did that go all right or not? I couldn’t tell.”
“I think so. She’s still figuring it out, but I think she’s on the right track.” She studied his face, her deep brown eyes serious. “You got pretty vehement about her not blaming herself for her parents’ mistakes.”
“She shouldn’t.”
“No. I just wondered why that pushed your buttons so much.”
Claire was the one who pushed his buttons. She was implying that his advice to Stacy was governed by something in his relationship with his parents.
He managed a casual shrug. “Maybe we all have things in our past that affect what we think and say. You told Stacy she could forgive her parents. Have you forgiven yours?”
For a moment, Claire didn’t move. Then she got up, spun on her heel and stalked into the house.
He almost launched himself off the swing to follow her. He should apologize, say it was none of his business, say he was sorry. It wouldn’t do any good. He’d just proved what he’d been telling himself all along— that he couldn’t risk involvement with Claire. It was too easy to hurt her.
He’d have to find another way to work off his guilt, because getting any closer to Claire was not an option.
“Thanks for everything, Siobhan.” Claire paused at the door on her way out, her mind running through the lists of things that had needed to be done for the shower. “I think it’s all ready except for the last-minute things.”
“We’ll take care of those after church tomorrow.” Siobhan enveloped her in a hug before Claire could guess her intent. “Why don’t you join us for the service? We can come straight here afterward to finish up.”
No. The word she wanted to say would be a rude response to the woman’s kindness. “I’ll see,” she evaded. “If I don’t make it to church, I’ll meet you here afterward.”
Siobhan nodded, apparently satisfied with that answer. “Tomorrow, then.”
Claire turned away. She stopped, the path to her car blocked by a pick-up basketball game taking place in the driveway. It seemed to be Gabe and Seth against Brendan, Terry and Ryan.
Gabe shot the ball and winced when Terry deflected it from the basket. His gaze caught hers.
“Hey, Claire, we need some help. I’m stuck with just Seth. Come on, be on my team.”
“I don’t think basketball is Claire’s thing,” Brendan said, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “It’s a little rough-and-tumble for her.”
“So that’s what you think, is it?” The desire to prove him wrong got the better of her. She put down her bag. “Toss that ball here, Gabe.”
Gabe, grinning, shot the ball to her. “Go get ’em, Claire.”
She dribbled toward Ryan. He hesitated, obviously not sure he should block her the way he would his sister. She took advantage of his momentary lapse to dribble around him. Brendan tried to block too late. She went up for the shot, hearing the satisfying swish when she made it.
She grinned at the stunned faces. “Girls varsity state champs, two years in a row.” Before she’d let her personal life get out of control.
She snatched the ball as Brendan made a grab for it. “Now, you guys still want a game?”
Brendan jostled her, almost knocking the ball lose. “You got it. Give us your best shot.”
Good thing she’d worn jeans and sneakers today. They weren’t as comfortable as the shorts Terry wore, but at least she could play. She’d show Brendan—
What would she show Brendan? This wasn’t about him. It was just a game. She was not trying to get at him for his remark about her parents.
Maybe so, but she’d forgotten how quickly personalities came out on a basketball court. That the court was just a basket mounted over the garage doors didn’t matter.
Gabe was take-charge, directing his small team with a wave of his hand or a nod, feeding her the ball once he saw the strength of her shot. She hadn’t lost her skill, even after all these years, and it felt good to push her body once again.
Seth played with concentration, but he was clearly not as competitive as his brothers. He’d slide back and let someone else take the shot, and he was always ready with an encouraging word.
Ryan was quick and flashy, probably wanting to show up his
big brothers. Terry, tough and scrappy. She’d grown up outnumbered by brothers, and she had to prove she was just as tough.
And Brendan. She’d better concentrate on the game instead of on Brendan, but that was easier said than done. He played basketball the way he did everything—with single-minded concentration. He was a tough competitor, and he probably played more often than his cousins did.
“No fair.” Gabe leaned over to catch his breath after Brendan jostled past him to make a shot. “You’re getting in too much practice with those juvenile delinquents of yours.”
Brendan dribbled, grinning at him, a lock of dark hair falling in his eyes. His skin glowed with exertion. “They don’t play by the rules, believe me. This is a tea party compared to playing with them.”
“Tea party, is it?” Claire snatched the ball away while he was still looking at Gabe. “We’ll see what kind of tea party this is.”
She dribbled toward the basket, feeling him close behind her. As he reached out to block her shot she fed the ball to Seth, who went up and dunked it, grinning.
She spun out of Brendan’s way as he came down, her foot slipping. If she put herself out of commission for the sake of a stupid game—
Brendan grabbed her, his arms closing around her and keeping her upright. She was tight against his chest, and she felt the heat of his breath on her cheek and the pounding of his heart against her hand. Her own heart seemed to beat in rhythm with his.
Oh, no. She tried to push herself away, but her muscles seemed to have lost any will. She could only cling to him and face the truth.
What she felt for Brendan wasn’t friendship, no matter how much she might try to convince herself of that. She loved him. She couldn’t kid herself any longer. She loved him, and there was no future in that at all.
Chapter Eleven
Claire fished in her bag and pulled out a bill to put in the offering plate that was coming down the pew. If anyone had told her a month ago that she’d be sitting in church with the Flanagan family on a Sunday morning, she’d have said they were crazy.
