Promises of the Heart

by Nan Rossiter

  Maeve smiled. “No, you didn’t. She and Gage will have to get together—he loves to draw, too. . . . Did you know he went to SCAD?”

  Macey took a sip of her coffee and nodded. “Ben told me. He can’t figure out why Gage wants to work construction.”

  “To pay the bills,” Maeve said, smiling. “His drawings are incredible, but it’s hard to make ends meet. Speaking of construction, though, I heard they finished the house.”

  Macey nodded. “Just about—Ben said there’s a couple little things left—they have to oversee the installation of a granite lamppost and some landscaping, but the Jacksons are moving in next weekend—just in time for Thanksgiving.” She broke off a piece of her scone. “Then it’s on to the next job. No rest for the weary . . . just like on a farm. By the way, did you ever find out why Gage has no interest in his parents’ dairy farm?”

  “No,” Maeve answered, shaking her head. “He always says it would take a book.”

  Macey gestured to her plate. “Want the other half of my scone? I didn’t touch it.”

  “You don’t want it?”

  “No. It’s very good, but you can have it.” She pushed the plate toward her sister.

  “You twisted my arm,” Maeve said with a grin. She wrapped it in an extra napkin and tucked it into her bag. Then she checked the time on her phone, and took another sip of her coffee. “We should get going, but I think you need to relax about Harper. It sounds like she’s doing great in school, and that is huge,” she added, smiling. “It’s just going to take time to adjust to all these changes.”

  “I know,” Macey said resignedly.

  “How has she been feeling?”

  “That’s another thing—she never complains, but she gets tired easily and sometimes I catch her rubbing her chest. When I ask her about it, she says it’s fine, but I don’t know whether to believe her. . . .”

  Maeve nodded. “I’m sure she’d let you know if she really didn’t feel good.”

  “I hope so.” She smiled. “And as Grandy would say, ‘It’s always something!’”

  “True, but she’d also say to put it in God’s hands.”

  Macey smiled. “Truer words were never spoken!” She drained the last of her coffee. “Ready?”

  Maeve nodded. “Is Mom really letting you have Thanksgiving?”

  “She is,” Macey said, standing. “She said it’s time she passed on the torch.”

  “Wow! I can’t believe it!” Maeve said as they walked outside.

  “I know, right? That’s exactly what Ben said.”

  “Well, I’m sure you can pull it off—you’re amazing, and don’t let anyone tell you different.” Maeve gave her sister a hug. “No worries about Harper. She’ll come around,” she added with a smile.

  “Thanks,” Macey said, “and thanks for breakfast.”

  “You’re welcome.” She turned to go, but then looked back. “Let me know what I can bring.”

  “I will . . . extra wine, for sure!”

  Maeve laughed. “You got it!”

  54

  “HOW WAS THE FIELD TRIP?” MACEY ASKED AS HARPER CLIMBED INTO her car.

  “Pretty good.”

  Macey waited for her to continue, but Harper just looked out the window. “That’s it? Just pretty good? Did they like your drawing of the loggerhead turtle?”

  “Mm-hmm,” Harper said with a nod.

  Macey looked over at the little girl sitting next to her. “Everything okay?”

  “Mm-hmm,” Harper answered, mustering a smile.

  “Any chest pains?”

  Harper looked back out the window and shook her head.

  Macey frowned. “You sure?”

  “Mm-hmm. What’s for supper?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

  “Pizza.”

  Harper’s eyes lit up. “Pepperoni?”

  “Is that what you like on your pizza?”

  Harper nodded.

  “Pepperoni it is!”

  “Yes!” Harper said, gesturing with a fist pump.

  When they got back to the house, Ben was just coming outside with Keeper, and the big dog bounded over to the car. “Hey, Keep!” Harper said happily, forgetting her backpack and slamming the car door. “Where’s your ball?”

  The golden trotted happily across the yard, scooped up two tennis balls, hurried back, and dropped them at Harper’s feet. She picked them up and threw them, and he bounded away.

  Macey watched for a few minutes and then reached into the back seat for the forgotten backpack, slung it over her shoulder with her own bag, and walked toward the house.

  “How was your day?” he asked.

  “Good . . . busy. I swear there are more kids out sick than in school these days.”

  “Well, don’t bring those germs home,” he teased, stepping away from her.

  “Very funny,” she said, rolling her eyes. “How was your day?”

  “Good. Just a couple more details to tie up.”

  “Great,” she said, smiling. “I bet you’ll be glad to put this job behind you.”

  “I will, especially because there’s another one waiting . . .”

  Macey’s eyes lit up. “They took your bid?”

  “They did.”

  “That’s so great!”

  “It is,” Ben said, smiling—he always felt better when he knew for certain they had another job lined up. “How was the field trip?” he asked, watching Harper play with Keeper.

  She shook her head. “I asked, but all I got was pretty good.”

  Ben nodded, knowing Macey wished Harper would open up a little more.

  “We seemed to be doing so well those first couple days,” she said, “when we were all huddled in front of the fireplace during the storm. I don’t know what changed.”

  “Maybe we’ll have to do that again—make a fire and watch a movie or play games—we don’t have to lose power to do that. Besides, Cora said it might take time.”

  “I know, but I didn’t think it would take this long.”

  “It’s only been a couple of weeks.”

  “It’s almost three!” Macey countered.

  “You gotta have faith,” Ben teased. “Isn’t that what your grandmother would say?”

  Macey smiled. “It is what she would say.” She started to walk around to the back porch, and then called over her shoulder. “Pepperoni pizza tonight.”

  “All right! That’s my favorite.”

  “Harper’s, too!”

  Ben smiled and then turned to Harper. “You guys coming in?” Ben called.

  The little girl looked over. “One more throw.”

  Ben nodded and followed Macey inside while Harper threw the two balls as far as she could. Keeper bounded off, and when Harper was sure Ben and Macey weren’t looking, she rubbed her chest. “C’mon, Keep. Let’s go in.” She walked slowly toward the back porch and up the steps with the big dog beside her. When she got to the top step, she sat down to catch her breath and Keeper pushed his bowed head into her chest. “That’s exactly where it hurts,” she whispered, fighting back tears. She pushed her cheek into his long, wispy fur and then heard a familiar tinkling sound above her head. She looked up and, for the first time, noticed the silver spoon chimes, just like the ones she’d made with Tom when she was little. She rubbed her chest again and finally felt the pain ease.

  55

  “HEY, SLEEPYHEADS,” MACEY SAID SOFTLY. “YOU GETTING UP TODAY?”

  Harper opened her eyes, blinked at the bright sunlight streaming into her bedroom, and felt Keeper’s long body pressed against her blanket. After Harper had come to live with them—and Keeper realized she would be sleeping upstairs—he’d quickly overcome his fear of going up and down steps. “Yes, we’re getting up,” she said, stroking his velvety ears, “aren’t we, Keep?” The big dog yawned contentedly, stretched, and closed his eyes, and Harper laughed. “Well, I’m getting up,” she said, pushing off her blanket and covering him with it. He peeked out, shook it off, and hop
ped down the steps Ben had made for him to get on and off her bed.

  “How’d you sleep?” Macey asked.

  “Pretty good.”

  “Ben made cinnamon buns before he left, and I just took them out of the oven.”

  “Yum!” Harper said, smiling a genuine smile that surprised Macey. “Where did he go?”

  “He went to meet the man whose house he just finished.”

  “On Thanksgiving?”

  “That’s what I said,” Macey said, laughing, “but he promised he’d be right back.”

  “Okay,” Harper said, shuffling across the hall to the bathroom. When she came back, Macey had gone downstairs, but she’d left behind a pile of folded, clean laundry. Harper pulled a long-sleeve T-shirt from the pile—another one she’d picked out when they’d gone shopping with Maeve. Maeve had even gotten the same shirt in her size, too. Harper shook it open and read: “I HAVE RED HAIR BECAUSE GOD KNEW I SHOULD COME WITH A WARNING LABEL!” She smiled—she’d have to wear it the next time she saw Cora.

  “Harp, you comin’?” Macey called up the stairs.

  “Be right down,” she called back, pulling the shirt over her head.

  She hopped down the stairs and found Keeper already at Macey’s feet, watching her every move. She followed his gaze and her own eyes grew wide. “Wow! That’s one big-ass turkey!” she said, admiring the twenty-two-pound bird Macey was stuffing, but when Macey looked up with a frown, Harper covered her mouth. “Oops! Sorry!”

  Macey nodded and then saw her shirt and smiled.

  “Like it?” Harper said, grinning.

  “I do,” she replied, laughing. “It’s perfect.”

  “Maybe Maeve will wear hers.”

  “Maybe,” Macey said, making a mental note to text her sister. Then she gestured with a stuffing-filled spoon toward the cinnamon buns. “Want to spread the frosting on those?”

  “Sure,” Harper said, reaching for a spatula. She spread the creamy white substance onto the sweet rolls and then watched, her mouth watering, as it melted and dripped down the sides.

  “Yumm,” she murmured, licking the spatula.

  “You should have one while they’re warm.”

  Harper eagerly scooped one onto a plate. “Want one?”

  “You bet,” Macey said. “I just want to finish this goopy job first.”

  Harper eyed the turkey. “Cora says you have to wash your hands with hot, sudsy water anytime you touch eggs or raw meat so you don’t get sam-on-ella.”

  Macey laughed. “And she would be right.”

  Harper pulled up a stool to watch Macey work, took a bite of her cinnamon bun, and came away with a sugary grin. “How come you have such a big turkey?”

  “Because there are a lot of people comin’ over.”

  “There are?”

  “Mm-hmm. My mom and dad, and Maeve and her boyfriend, Gage . . .”

  “Do they have kids?”

  “No, but Gage has a puppy . . . actually, I guess he’s more of a dog now, but he still acts like a puppy.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Gus.”

  Harper nodded thoughtfully. “How come you and Ben don’t have kids?”

  Macey stopped what she was doing and looked up. Maybe it was because she was caught off guard by Harper’s directness, but she found herself being completely honest as she answered, “Ben and I have always wanted to have kids—we love kids, but I’ve had a lot of trouble carrying a baby, and I’ve had several miscarriages.” She paused. “Do you know what that is?”

  “Is that when you lose a baby before it grows?”

  Macey nodded, surprised by the awareness of such a young girl.

  “I’m sorry,” Harper said softly.

  “Thanks, Harper.”

  “Is that why you’re getting into fostering?”

  “Partly,” Macey said, still stuffing the turkey. “I also feel like it’s something that’s meant to happen.” Macey looked over, realized Harper was looking at her intently, and laughed. “Do you know what I mean?”

  “I guess so,” Harper said. “Sometimes, you just sort of get this feeling that you’re s’posed to do something—or not do something—and you don’t know exactly where it’s coming from.”

  “Exactly . . . but sometimes when I feel that way I wonder if it’s coming from my grandmother. She was such a special person—always willing to help people, always being the first to volunteer and even though she passed away a long time ago, I feel like, sometimes, she’s nudging me to do things.”

  Harper nodded. “I know what you mean. Even though I was little when my mom died, I sometimes feel like she’s nudging me, too.”

  Just then, there was a sound on the back porch, and Keeper scrambled to his feet and started barking. “It’s just me, silly,” Ben said, coming through the door. He looked at Harper. “Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence!”

  Harper smiled.

  “How come you don’t have the parade on?” he asked, turning on the TV on the counter.

  “I forgot!” Macey said.

  Harper frowned. “What parade?”

  “The one-and-only Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade,” he said as the screen flickered on, revealing a tremendous Snoopy balloon floating down Sixth Avenue in New York City.

  “Macey has a parade?” Harper teased, giggling.

  “Yep! I have my very own parade,” Macey said as she washed her hands. As she dried them, she looked at Ben. “Soo . . . how’d it go?”

  “Great!” Ben teased with a grin.

  Macey frowned. “Great, he loved the house, or great, he paid you?”

  “Both,” he said, patting his chest pocket.

  “Nice,” she said. She always loved when Ben got final payment for a big job. “We have a lot to be thankful for,” she murmured as he pulled them both into a hug.

  “Don’t forget Keeper and Big Mac,” Harper said, pulling them both down to include the happy-go-lucky retriever hopping around them and the cat who had just wandered into the warm kitchen.

  “Yeah,” Ben said. “All Keeper’s thinking about is turkey!” And they laughed, knowing it was true. Finally, they stood, but Harper moved to Keeper’s bed, and pulled Big Mac onto her lap, and then Keeper moseyed over and tried to get on the bed, too.

  “You’re so silly, Keep,” Macey said, laughing and pulling her phone out to take a picture. “Ben, get him to look up.”

  Ben held a dog treat above Macey’s head, and Harper held on to him so he wouldn’t get up. “Stay here,” she whispered, and just as he turned and licked her cheek, Macey tapped her phone.

  “Perfect,” she said, looking at the image.

  56

  “WE’RE HERE!” MAEVE CALLED CHEERILY, LETTING IN A GUST OF CHILLY November air, but before she could even get the door open, the lanky yellow Lab tethered to her wrist pushed his way in and galloped down the hall, towing her along. Laughing and trying to keep the still-warm pumpkin pie in her hands upright, Maeve tumbled into the kitchen. “Happy Thanksgiving!” she said, laughing breathlessly.

  “Hi, Maeve!” Harper said, hopping off her stool to give her a warm hug.

  Macey watched Harper’s exuberant greeting and then held out her hands, palms up, feigning dismay. “I must be a potted plant.”

  Maeve laughed, set her pie on the counter, and gave her sister a hug. “Happy Thanksgiving, Mace!”

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” Macey replied.

  “Is this Gus?” Harper asked, her arms around the big puppy slobbering her with wet kisses.

  “It most definitely is,” Maeve confirmed as he and Keeper wiggled around each other. She produced two bottles of wine from her bag, held them up, and smiled at her sister. “Want these in the fridge?”

  “One can go in the fridge,” Macey said, rummaging through her kitchen drawer. “But one can be opened right now.” With a triumphant smile she pulled out a corkscrew. “Would you do the honors?”

  “Of course,” Maeve said, taking
off her coat and draping it over a chair.

  “You wore your shirt!” Harper exclaimed.

  “Of course I wore my shirt!” Maeve said, holding it out by the hem. “We gingers have to stick together!”

  “We do,” Harper agreed. She looked at Macey. “Macey, you should get one, too.”

  “Maybe I will,” Macey said, surprised but pleased to be invited to join their ginger club and thankful she’d remembered to text her sister. She opened the cabinet and took out two wineglasses. “Where’s Gage?”

  “Outside, talking to Ben,” she said, pouring a glass of chardonnay and handing it to her. “Where are Mom and Dad? They’re never late.”

  “They are today. Mom insisted on making just about everything,” she said. “She lets me host, but she still wants to bring half the side dishes . . . and the apple pie, of course! Ben is thankful for that, though—he loves her apple pie.”

  “Hello! Hello!” A voice boomed from the front porch which triggered the self-appointed welcoming committee to hurry down the hall. “Well, hello to you, too!” they heard the voice say.

  “Hi, Dad!” Macey called, hurrying after the dogs to see if he needed help. She unburdened him of the box full of warm dishes he was carrying, and gave him a hug.

  “Does Mom need help?” Maeve asked, coming up behind them.

  Hal gave his younger daughter a hug. “I think Gage and Ben are bringing everything else in.” He knelt down between the two wiggling dogs to give them a proper greeting and looked up at Macey.

  “It’s nice of you to host, sweetie, but, honestly, I think it would be easier if we just had it at our house—your mother brought half the kitchen over!” He shook his head and then spied Harper standing in the doorway. “Hey, there’s my pal.”

  Harper smiled shyly. She had met Macey’s parents on a couple of occasions already, and although she liked them, she found Mr. Lindstrom’s gregarious personality a little intimidating, and Macey had had to ask her dad to be a little less vivacious until Harper got used to him. So with Macey and Maeve looking on, Hal pulled the two dogs close and made them sit.