The Marine's Family Mission

by Victoria Pade

  “Not yet.”

  “This is Monday, Kins. The rehearsal is Friday, the wedding is on Saturday.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I included them in the head count. So if they come, there will be seats for them and enough food.”

  “That isn’t what I’m worried about,” he persisted.

  “They’re probably getting this information today, too, don’t you think?” she reasoned. “They probably didn’t want to jump the gun and RSVP before they knew for sure. I think it’s a good sign that they didn’t just say no.”

  “And what if they don’t show even now? Are you gonna be so disappointed that it ruins your rehearsal, your wedding?”

  “No,” she said but not with conviction. “It would just be nice, is all, if they came. If the whole lot of us could be brought together by my wedding.”

  Declan saw that she wasn’t going to budge from her optimism and decided that this might just be a hard lesson she had to learn. He couldn’t protect her from it.

  “I need to talk to you about something else, though,” she said then, changing the subject. “I have a real problem—my photographer went mountain climbing, fell and broke both of his legs. He had to cancel!”

  “Don’t look at me, I can’t take a decent picture to save my life.”

  “But your friend...”

  Friend?

  Declan didn’t know who she was talking about. He sure as hell didn’t have any friends in Northbridge. Not with Topher gone.

  “Topher’s sister-in-law,” Kinsey clarified. “You met her when she was in Afghanistan as a photographer...”

  “She’s not a friend,” he countered, a little too quickly.

  But it was true. Emmy couldn’t be considered a friend. Sometimes she even acted as if they were enemies.

  “But she is a photographer,” Kinsey said. “Do you think maybe she’d pinch-hit for me?”

  “I don’t have any idea,” he said honestly. “I guess she does do that kind of photography in Denver now. But—”

  “Would you ask her for me? There isn’t a photographer in Northbridge, and even if there was, hiring someone now, for this coming weekend? There’s no way.”

  So he would be asking a favor of Emmy?

  That didn’t sit well with him.

  It was one thing to be doing what he was doing on the Samms farm and with Kit and Trinity—it wasn’t for Emmy; he was doing it for Topher. But to ask Emmy to do something for him? He could never be sure how she might react to anything. Even if she said yes, could he count on her to follow through?

  Plus it was another wedding.

  After what had happened at Topher and Mandy’s wedding, he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of being at another one with her. What if it set off that Jekyll and Hyde thing again? Now, rather than going to separate hotel rooms, they’d be going back to the same house, needing to take care of the kids, to go on dealing with the farm. And if she turned into Hyde like she had the morning after Topher’s wedding? No, thanks.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Kins. There’s the kids and all the work that needs to be done on the farm. Plus, at the rehearsal and at the wedding, I’ll be busy even though there isn’t a formal wedding party, and if she’s the photographer, she’ll be swamped. What would we do with the kids?”

  “This is Northbridge, Declan—it’s a small town and people pitch in. Especially to hold a baby or keep an eye on a three-year-old. And we’ll pay her what we were going to pay Kevin,” Kinsey went on. “Pleeease? I’m in such a bind...”

  Not a good idea. It is not a good idea for us to be at another wedding, Declan thought.

  But how could he say no to his sister?

  “I guess it would have to be up to her,” he said as if conceding to torture.

  “Will you call her right now and ask her? Then maybe I could talk to her and we could get things started?”

  His reluctance showed in the slow-motion way he took out his cell phone and hit the button to dial her.

  And as he waited for Emmy to answer, he knew with cold certainty that being at another wedding with her was as big a mistake as inviting the Camdens.

  * * *

  “Bad goat!”

  “Bad Billy!” Trinity added from near the barn door.

  “Ooh, stay there, Trinity. Stay with Kit. Don’t come over here,” Emmy cautioned in a panic.

  There was never a need to watch the clock to know when it was time for evening chores. The chickens clucked and the goats all started crying a warning that they were hungry.

  That noise had greeted Emmy when she’d arrived home from Kit’s doctor’s appointment. Declan wasn’t back yet, so Emmy had put Kit in the stroller and taken him and Trinity with her to do the chores—beginning with the complaining goats.

  The largest male always gave Emmy fits. But tonight he was apparently particularly peeved because rather than eat, he’d lowered his head and come at Emmy with his horns in charging position.

  Emmy had left the kids near the barn’s door, and although Trinity loved the goats and the goats loved her—including the largest male—she didn’t want the little girl coming closer for fear that the animal might turn on the three-year-old, too.

  For the moment he had only Emmy in his sights—but unfortunately, he had her cornered with no way around him to escape. The goat was staying a few feet back but lunging threateningly—head down, horns pointing like spears—whenever Emmy moved.

  She’d tried a soothing voice to calm him. She’d tried cajoling. She’d tried firm commands.

  When none of that had had any effect, she’d tried stomping her feet, clapping her hands—anything to seem intimidating enough to scare him into backing off.

  But none of that had worked either.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” she said seductively. “Go eat your dinner...”

  “Iss good...” Trinity added, again trying to help.

  The goat didn’t move.

  “This is ridiculous!” Emmy said in frustration, wondering how her sister could have loved this life so much. She then put that frustration and anger into loudly shouting, “Get out of my way, you stupid, stupid goat!”

  It didn’t faze the goat.

  “Yeah, uh, name-calling doesn’t really bother goats.”

  Emmy’s eyes shot to the barn door, where Declan had come up behind the children. A quick survey seemed to enlighten him as to what was going on, and he actually cracked the tiniest of smiles. It infuriated her—not only because it was at her expense, but because even in her current predicament she couldn’t help noticing that it made him more appealing than that brooding frown he usually sported these days.

  “Whatcha doin’?” he asked as if it wasn’t obvious.

  “They were out here hollering for their dinner when I got home, so I fed them. But this one would rather terrorize me than eat.”

  “I talkted nice at him bu he’s bein’haive bad, Decan,” Trinity contributed.

  “He’s bein’haive really bad,” Emmy confirmed.

  “Sooo, do you have this under control—shall I go ahead and take the kids in and give them dinner—or do you need some help?” Declan asked.

  Oh yeah, he was definitely enjoying this.

  Emmy kind of wanted to wring his neck for being so complacent while she was still being held at horn-point by the goat. And no, she didn’t want his help. Not when he was making it seem like she was some damsel in distress. That was just galling.

  But what else was she to do?

  Still, she couldn’t be gracious about it and countered with “Do you want pictures taken of your sister’s wedding?”

  He was no more fazed by her threats than the goat had been.

  “Hmm...now that you mention it, this might be the time to negotiate the price,” he goaded as he went around the stroller and Trinity to s
aunter over to Emmy and the goat, looking smug and all too handsome in boots and jeans and a navy blue hoodie.

  “Or maybe we could do some bartering,” he suggested. “Free wedding pictures in exchange for hostage negotiations with old Billy here...”

  Emmy sighed, not getting anywhere near the kick out of this that he was. “Just get this thing to let me out of this corner.”

  “You’re gonna owe me...” he warned, sounding as if he relished that idea.

  “Yeah, what else is new?” Emmy shot back, her sarcasm provoking the goat and buying her another lunge that came dangerously close to winning her a horn in her jean-clad thigh.

  Declan used a booming, authoritative voice to order the goat away, and that was all it took to get the animal to comply.

  “Really?” she muttered to the stubborn goat.

  “Hey, he’s just doing his job,” Declan defended. “This is all your own fault.”

  “It’s my fault that that goat is mean?”

  “He’s not mean, he was just letting you know he’s boss in this barn. These goats have been raised around people. They consider people to be part of their pack. He was putting you in your place.”

  “He’s alpha goat?”

  “He’s alpha to the rest of the pack and he sees you as one of them. Unless you show him that you’re dominant, he’ll keep at you.”

  “How am I not dominant? I’m bigger and smarter... I’m the human!”

  “You could try handing over your credentials but he’d probably just eat them. You have to show him that you’re boss.”

  “And how do I do that?” Emmy answered, unsure if he was playing a joke on her.

  “You have to get next to the big bad goat, reach under his belly, grab his front and back leg at once, and pull him down to his side.”

  “You want me to roll around on the ground with a goat?” she said, her distaste evident.

  “If you end up rolling around with him, you’ll be doing it wrong,” Declan said. “And it’s up to you, but unless you physically dominate him, he’ll go on trying to keep you in line.”

  Emmy glared at Declan to let him know he was in trouble if he was just messing with her.

  “Did you do this when I wasn’t looking?”

  “Didn’t have to.”

  “But I do?”

  “Nope, you don’t have to. But if you don’t...” He shrugged one of those broad shoulders, leaving the decision to her.

  Emmy did not want to do it. But still, she sneaked up to the side of the goat and did as she’d been instructed. Or at least she tried to. But her attempt was inelegant, and while the goat toppled onto his side, so did she.

  They both shot back onto their feet and the goat cast her a look that said stalemate.

  It was something else that made Thus-Far-Gloomy-Gus Declan smile—if only slightly. “Wow, no wonder he’s got you bullied,” Declan said. “Try again.”

  Determined to best the goat—and to squash Declan’s amusement—Emmy did. Four more times she was forced to sneak up to the animal while he ran at the first movement she made toward him. But finally only the goat went down. Not easily, though, and the minute his side hit the barn floor he scrambled to all fours again.

  By then Declan had wheeled in Kit’s stroller and lifted Trinity to sit on a hay bale and the three of them were watching as if they were a rodeo audience. But Declan and Trinity did clap for her when she finally succeeded.

  The trouble was when she turned to take her bow. The goat apparently decided to regain his authority because the next thing Emmy knew she’d been butted from behind and was flat on her face on the barn floor.

  Which Trinity found hilarious while Declan seemed barely able to contain himself.

  “Yu’r funny, Em,” her niece told her.

  Luckily the horns hadn’t pierced her jeans or her skin, but still Emmy had felt the blow to both her posterior and her ego.

  She got to her feet, rubbing the abused body part, and again she leveled a glare at Declan. “This isn’t really what I’m supposed to do, is it? You’re just putting me on.”

  “It really is the only way that goat will stop getting your goat,” he assured. “Give it another try and make sure you’re not shy about it.”

  She didn’t want to give it another try. But not only was she determined not to let the goat get the best of her, she wasn’t going to let Declan believe she was too much of a wimp to pull this off.

  So she went on to rounds six and seven, finally toppling the animal with a modicum of grace and receiving a disdainful—but more leery—look from the goat, who turned his tail up at her and walked to the opposite side of the barn.

  “Tell me I win,” she demanded of Declan.

  “Queen of the goats!” he decreed with a full-blown smile.

  And for just a split second it was almost worth what she’d had to do for that praise.

  And to see that smile.

  * * *

  After wrestling with the goat, Emmy needed another shower, so Declan finished the chores and fed both kids while she cleaned up.

  She was again inclined to do a few extras with hair and makeup afterward, but the trip into town and then the goat had taken up too much time already. So after throwing on yoga pants and a simple gray T-shirt, she blew her hair dry using a round brush to put some turn into the ends, applied a quick bit of eyeliner and then hurried out of the master bedroom. It was already time to get Trinity through her bedtime routine while Declan put Kit down for the first half of the infant’s night.

  It was only when all of that was finished that Emmy could think about eating, and she was surprised to find that Declan had waited rather than having his sandwich when he fed Trinity.

  It was nice, though, not to just be left to wolf down her hoagie and chips standing over the sink by herself. To instead find after she tucked Trinity in and went to the kitchen that Declan had their food set out on the table, complete with napkins, a cold beer for himself and a glass of the flavored sparkling water stocked in the fridge for her.

  “How’s your goat butt?” he asked when she first appeared in the kitchen, smiling yet another small smile at his oh-so-hilarious question.

  The wordplay of it almost seemed flirtatious. But she reminded herself that she’d also thought they’d done a lot of flirting with each other at the wedding and, in retrospect, believed she’d been wrong.

  So rather than answering with some wordplay of her own, she merely muttered, “Stupid goat.” Then she added, “There’s a bruise but I think I’ll live.” Although she did feel it when her rear end hit the hard wood seat of the kitchen chair.

  Declan must have seen her flinch because that made his smile grow slightly.

  “It isn’t funny,” she said, although it surprised her how much she liked seeing his expression lighten.

  “Believe me, it was funny,” he said, smiling even bigger.

  Emmy didn’t want him to know how much she liked his smile—so much that she didn’t mind that it was at her expense—so she rolled her eyes before she changed the subject. “You didn’t have to wait to eat,” she said as Declan sat across from her.

  “That would have been just plain bad manners,” he countered. “What did the doctor have to say about Kit?”

  So not only had his sober side taken a rest, he was also putting some effort into talking tonight without her having to demand it. That made things smoother.

  “We’re trying a different formula,” she answered. “Kit hasn’t lost any weight—in fact, he’s gained a pound—so that’s good. But until he adjusts, there isn’t much hope for a quick 2:00 a.m. feeding and getting him right back to bed—which I guess is the ideal for babies this age.”

  “Maybe the new formula will do the trick.”

  “Maybe.”

  They ate in silence for a moment. Then, thinkin
g about the phone call from him and his sister that afternoon, Emmy fell back on what she’d learned about him in the past and said, “So your family... Are your twin and your older brother still in the military?”

  “Nope, they’ve both opted out in the past year.”

  “I didn’t know you have a sister, too—is she military or civilian?”

  “Civilian all the way. Our adoptive father was a retired marine and he tried to get her on board with the rest of us, but Kinsey wouldn’t have any of that.”

  “You and your twin were adopted?” This was the first she’d heard about that.

  Declan shook his head. “Hugh adopted the four of us kids when he married our mother.”

  “Ahh,” Emmy said. “What happened to your real dad?”

  “Hugh was our real dad.” There was some defensiveness in that that also seemed to slam the door on giving her any more information.

  It left Emmy curious, but since it wasn’t any of her business she didn’t pursue it and instead asked, “So the Madison brothers all went away to the military and your sister stayed in Northbridge?” It was a reasonable assumption since his sister was getting married on what Emmy had been told was the family farm at the end of the week.

  “No, Kinsey left, too. She lives in Denver.”

  “Are your parents still here? Is that why she came back to get married?”

  He shook his head again while he finished a bite of sandwich, then said, “My mom died at the end of last year. Hugh went two years before that. We’re planning to sell the old farm, but it’s been tough for the four of us to get together to go through the things in the house so we can prep it to put on the market. Since it’s still ours she wanted to come back here to have the wedding. No way would it have been my choice, but—”

  “Because you don’t like Northbridge,” Emmy recalled. “I know sometimes people who grow up in small towns can’t wait to get out of them, but Mandy and Topher loved it here. And I’ve never seen such an... I don’t know what to call it except an outpouring of sympathy and support and caring and help, both when news of Topher came and when we lost Mandy. It’s been amazing.”

  “Yeah, that’s a small town for you.”