by Michele Hauf
Lucy leaned down and kissed Maxwell on the forehead. “I wish you could have met Maria. She liked doing smart things like you do. Always had a book in her hand. I would read to her when I visited.”
“That was awfully nice of you, Mrs. Hogan,” Maxwell said. “How is Maria now?”
“She didn’t make it, Maxwell. The disease she had ate away at her slowly. But she died peacefully.”
Rachel squeezed Lucy’s hand. The woman sat up straighter on the table and pushed up her sunglasses, resuming a modicum of élan. “Oh, that’s so unlike me to have out with personal stuff like that. Don’t you think? But you need to know that what you’re doing, Maxwell, will benefit so many.”
“Thank you for sharing your story with us, Lucy,” Rachel said as the older woman adjusted the designer scarf wrapped stylishly about her hips.
The things a person learned about people they thought they knew. It was a wonder. Rachel would never look at Lucy the same again, and that was a good thing.
“So I told all the women at the nail salon about your charity drive,” Lucy said to Maxwell. “You’ll be seeing a steady stream of donations today, I’m sure. Good luck! And Rachel, I thought we’d see Handy Sam today? Isn’t he coming?”
Now that was good ol’ nosy Mrs. Hogan.
“He’s making a cookie run.”
The woman looked over the rim of her sunglasses at Rachel. “You two are getting close?”
“We’re friends,” she offered, then winked at Maxwell. No need to fertilize the grapevine.
* * *
When he returned to the church, Sam managed to find the last parking space in the sizable lot. He whistled, stunned at how well the event was going. And all because a nine-year-old boy wanted to make other kids his age smile.
Balancing the boxes of bakery cookies on his arms, he made his way to the refreshments table, which was decorated with Maxwell’s streamers and a sign Sam had helped letter. This redneck construction worker had quite the artistic flair with a green crayon, if he said so himself.
Rachel came up to take the cookies from him, but before she could say anything, a flurry of women surrounded Sam to help unpack the treats. They all said hello to him and shook his hand, and more than a few winked and then gave Rachel a sly smile.
The attention made him blush. If they weren’t greeting him at the door with martinis, they were pawing at him in the church parking lot.
Sam carefully extricated himself from the female attention and made his way over to the main table, where Maxwell wielded a stylus and his ever-present iPad. He wore a smart baseball cap that had the gold-and-blue logo for Kid Flicks taped over the brim.
“How you doing, buddy?”
“Sam! Look at all the DVDs! We’ve taken in hundreds, and we still have a few hours to go. This is stupendous!”
“You did it all by yourself, Maxwell. I’m real proud of you.”
Sam went around behind the table and lifted the boy in a hug. Maxwell squeezed him back, and it felt great.
“Did you see the sign?” he whispered, and then squirmed to be let down. Running around the table, he pointed to a poster taped to the front of it.
Sam peered between a couple who were heading over a grocery bag filled with DVDs. The sign was printed in a script style, with a red font. Maxwell had dedicated the event to his brother, Jeff.
Sam slammed a palm over his beating heart and looked skyward, fighting the tears, but was unsuccessful. The kid was too kind for his own good. And for Sam’s good. He sniffled. Hell, what had the McHenrys done to him, making him all mushy and soft? Sam Jones was a hard nail that could take a good pounding.
Until he’d met this little boy who liked to study brains, and his mother, who made the best lasagna, and sprinkled chocolate husks in her garden.
“Sam?” He felt Maxwell’s small, warm hand slip into his. “Is that okay, what I did? If you’re not cool with it…”
“Buddy.” He bent down to Maxwell’s level. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me and my brother. I love you for that.”
“You’re crying, Sam.”
“Good tears, Maxwell. I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have met you and your mother. The two of you put a smile on my face and in my heart.”
Maxwell hugged him around the neck. “I’m pretty lucky, too. My mom likes you and so do I. I wish I could have met Jeff. He was the luckiest guy to have you as a big brother.”
“We had good times, Maxwell. Good times.” Sam wiped the corner of his eye and smiled at a man wielding a bulky bag.
Maxwell stepped out of the hug and asked, “Do you want to help me box up the DVDs people are dropping off?” “I’m your wing man. You be the guy in charge, and I’ll stand behind you, taking care of the heavy lifting and boxing duties.”
They exchanged a high five and took up their positions behind the table. Sniffing away his tears, Sam whispered a thank-you skyward: “I miss you, Jeff, but I know you’re in a good place now with Mom and Dad.”
The event was a huge success, and a couple teachers from area schools got the Kid Flicks contact information from Maxwell because they wanted to plan a school-wide drive as well. And when the last few cars pulled out of the parking lot, Sam estimated they had at least half a pickup truck of DVDs. Since he had agreed to be the shipping guy, he knew what he’d be doing tomorrow—stopping by grocery stores for some packing boxes.
He joined Rachel to help her clean up the refreshments table. All the cookies were gone. The drink dispenser they’d borrowed from a local restaurant merely had to be rinsed out with a hose when they got home, and returned within a few days. Sam packed all the equipment into the back of his truck.
Rachel joined him by the rust bucket and blew out an exhausted breath. “That was a lot of work. But worth it.”
“It was great to be able to spend the day beside you.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “You’re not…”
“What?”
“I don’t know how to put it.”
“You having second thoughts about us?” he asked.
“No. Yes. Are we an us?”
“We can be. Would you like that? Could you deal with that, Miss Independent?”
“I can,” she said on a sigh. “But can you?”
“I don’t think I understand the question.”
“We. Us. That also includes Maxwell.”
“I know that. He’s your plus one. And I’m cool with that, Rachel.”
“You are?”
He kissed her. “I am. You know, every time I looked at that sign Maxwell made I thought of my brother. Made me smile all day long.”
“I’m glad. It was Maxwell’s idea. So, you hungry? I’ve got some ground beef thawed out at home. I could make tacos.”
“I’m always hungry. But I’m taking the two of you out. You’ve been working hard all day. I will not let you go home and slave over a hot stove. How about Italian?”
“Sam Jones, why are you so good to me and Maxwell?”
“I care about you both,” he said. “That’s reason enough to try to be my best. But could we not get all sentimental, with the ladies over there watching our every move?”
They both glanced over their shoulders. Sam waved at the collection of neighborhood women who lingered by a car across the parking lot, taking in the whole scene. The majority had flirted with him at one time or another.
“Here comes the king of the DVD drive!” Sam called.
Maxwell handed Sam the last box of movies and the three of them piled into their respective vehicles to head out to eat.
Rachel waved at her neighbors as they passed. Handy Sam was hers for the evening. She couldn’t think of a better way to end such a perfect day.
Chapter Ten
The ten-acre plot west of the Twin Cities was wooded with dozens of varieties of trees, and as Rachel and Sam walked through the grass and down a hilly slope, she eyed wild raspberries and even blueber
ries tucked along the tree border.
About a hundred yards off in an open, grassy field, Maxwell pursued a cricket with insect net in hand. A magnifying glass was stuck in his back jeans pocket.
“This plot has everything a guy could want.” Sam stopped and looked over the stretch of land before them. Crickets chirped and birds circled in the jewel-bright sky. “There’s a pond over there with a huge willow.”
“I love willow trees.” Rachel swung her hand in his as they continued walking.
“Would be a great spot for the goats.”
“You and your goats!”
“And that grove of trees at the back is nice and thick. I bet I could build a deer stand back there.”
“Bet there’s lots of deer out here. A hunter’s dream. You hunt?”
“I do. Get a deer every fall, and process the meat myself. You like venison?”
“Love it, but I haven’t had it for a long time.”
“Well, I know what your Christmas present is going to be.”
“Does that mean you’ll be cooking for me?” she asked, allowing her inner flirt to heat up her words.
“It’s a promise. Do you see that little frog right there?” He pointed out the acorn-size green tree frog clinging to a milkweed pod. “Maxwell needs to see this.”
“Oh, no.” Rachel clutched his hand tighter, resisting his playful tugs.
“What? It’s just a frog. Don’t tell me…?”
“They creep me out.”
“Yeah? The kid needs to catch a frog. It’s a boy thing, Rachel. Come on, you don’t graduate from being a boy until you stuff a frog in your pocket and bring it home to show your mom.”
“Yes, well, his mother is standing right here and she can see it just fine from this distance.”
Sam’s eyes sparkled, and just when Rachel suspected he might pull a fast one and catch the frog, he shrugged and walked by. Whew.
“You’re a good influence on him, you know,” she said as they wandered over the grassy field. “Not only does he plan to do annual drives for Kid Flicks, he’s also started researching another charity he’d like to give to that provides clean water to families in areas that don’t have any. Isn’t that awesome? My nine-year-old son has taught me so much these past weeks. I love learning from him.”
“He’s taught me a lot, too. So now it’s my turn to teach him to toss the football. Or maybe we should start easy by flying a kite? I used to have the coolest kite when I was a kid. Rachel…” He turned her around in a fancy twirl, then clasped both her hands and stood before her as if he had a grand question to ask.
Not too grand a question, she hoped. She wasn’t ready for that.
“Would you be my girlfriend?” he asked, the sun highlighting the four sexy freckles on his nose.
“Yes,” she replied easily, and raised her face to kiss him as the breeze stirred up a storm of milkweed fluff around them. She laughed at the sudden onslaught of white seed kites. “I guess that was some kind of fireworks, eh?”
“I think so. Someone or something approves of us.”
It was in Rachel’s nature to ensure everything was perfectly clear. “I don’t want any promises you’re not ready to make, or false hopes. I mean, you get the plus one when we do the boyfriend-girlfriend thing. That can be a lot for any guy to accept.”
Sam shrugged. “Then I won’t make any promises. Not yet, anyway. But I can say one thing and know it’s the truth. You and Maxwell? You two own my heart right now. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I care about both of you. And when I said girlfriend, I really meant girlfriend plus one.”
“Oh, Sam.” Rachel hugged him and he spun her around, setting off another swirl of seed kites floating up into the crystalline blue sky along with the sound of Maxwell’s laughter.
* * *
Weeks later….
“Mom, I got a letter from Kid Flicks!”
Rachel looked up from the cherry pie she was making with Sam. Well, Sam was eating the cherries while she attempted to get them in the pastry shell before the culinary creation became a flat tart rather than a thick and juicy two-crust pie.
“What did they say, buddy?”
Sam scooted over on the bench by the window, and Maxwell sat next to him and opened the envelope. Rachel had to smile. The two got along so well, it made her sigh happily and linger in the moment.
Sam played with Maxwell’s mess of hair while her son read the letter from the sisters who ran Kid Flicks. They thanked him for his generous donation and the time and effort he put into the drive. The message was printed on their letterhead, which Rachel knew Maxwell appreciated.
“They said kids all over the United States send them letters to tell them how much they appreciate the movies being available in hospitals. And now I’m a part of that.” He beamed at Rachel, and she went over to plant a kiss on his nose.
“You’ve got flour all over you, Mom.”
“And now you do, too.” She touched the tip of his nose with a flour-dusted finger.
“Aw, Mom, now I have to wash my face.” He scrambled off the bench and headed upstairs.
“If that’s all it takes to get you to wash your face, I’ll bake a pie every night,” she called after him.
Sam tugged her to sit beside him, and gave her a kiss. “I don’t mind a little flour on my face,” he said. “And on my shirt, or even my jeans.”
“Such a scandalous man. The neighbors will talk.”
“Let them.” He pulled her up onto his lap and kissed her deeply, their noses touching and their foreheads pressed together. “The neighbor ladies have stopped trying to seduce me with martinis ever since we got together.”
“And that upsets you?”
“Nope. Makes it easier to fix things, too. No more TV guides shoved down toilets. Everything is either really broken or has been in need of a touch-up for a long time. Sort of like my heart.”
“Your heart?”
“It was in need of a touch-up when I met you and Maxwell. You’ve taken some spackle to it and made it almost good as new.”
“You don’t ever want it to be like new,” she said. “You’ll always have that tender spot for your brother. Right here.” She laid her palm over his heart. “As it should be.”
“I agree. You think it’d be all right if I took Maxwell out to the new property with me this weekend to fly the new kite?”
“Can I come along?”
“Of course you can. Especially if you bring some of that cherry pie for a picnic.”
“Sounds like a date.”
He kissed her nose and stroked the hair from her face. “I love you, Rachel McHenry. You and Maxwell. You hear that, buddy?” he said louder.
Maxwell appeared from around the corner, where he’d been lurking. “I did. What do you think, Mom? Should we let him stick around for a while?”
Rachel snuggled into Sam’s embrace. “You always have the best plans, Maxwell.”
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
