Mick gave her a sympathetic look. “Are you sure that’s what you’re doing, letting him off the hook?”
“Of course. He just had an attack of conscience or something after my accident.”
“I don’t think so,” Mick said. “Connor’s timing might be lousy, but he loves you. There’s not a doubt in my mind about it. Don’t throw that away.”
“I’m not throwing it away,” she said softly, then wondered if that wasn’t exactly what she had done. She’d thrown Connor’s words and his proposal right back in his face. More than once now. Why?
Could he possibly be right that seeing how her mother was literally blossoming away from her dad had shaken her values, made her question everything she’d believed about marriage and the possibility of happily ever after? Had seeing Bridget slowly reach out for her own fresh start reminded Heather of all the reasons she’d had when she first left Connor?
No, she thought fiercely, that couldn’t be right. She’d left Connor not because she’d craved independence, not because she didn’t love him and want a future with him, but because he wasn’t offering one. Now he was, and she’d said no. Maybe she did need to see a shrink, after all.
Or maybe it was time she went back to listening to her heart.
21
Heather couldn’t seem to shake Connor’s theory about why she was holding back on marriage now that he was ready for it. Did it have anything at all to do with whatever was going on between her mother and father? And what was going on?
Certainly Bridget seemed to be in no big hurry to get back to Ohio. She was going to church on Sundays with Nell and had even joined her women’s group at the church on a couple of occasions. Last week, she’d played bingo there one evening, as well. And she seemed to be thoroughly enjoying working at Cottage Quilts and teaching classes. It appeared she truly was settling into Chesapeake Shores.
Feeling oddly disgruntled, Heather watched her mother’s efficient movements as she prepared dinner for the three of them. She was making spaghetti. It was one of little Mick’s favorites—and also his dad’s. Bridget didn’t even seem to mind the mess he was bound to make. In fact, she had incredible patience with her grandson, who could test even Heather’s nerves from time to time.
Heather maneuvered herself to her feet and used her crutches to cross the room. She settled on a stool at the kitchen counter. “Mom, can I ask you something?”
Bridget looked up from the sauce she was stirring. “Of course.”
“What’s going on with you and Dad?”
Her mother’s expression froze. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Of course you do,” Heather said impatiently. “You must. You’ve been here for several weeks now. He hasn’t come to visit. He hardly calls anymore. At least, not when I’m around. Is this some kind of separation?”
To her horror, a tear leaked from her mother’s eye and trickled down her cheek. “Mom?” she whispered, shaken by the sight of her mother crying. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, it’s okay,” her mother insisted. “You should know what’s going on. The truth is, your father and I separated months ago.”
Heather regarded her with shock. “Months ago? And you never said a word to me? Why?”
“You had a lot going on in your own life.” Bridget sighed. “The truth is we should have done it years ago, but we thought staying married was for the best.”
“Because of me,” Heather guessed.
“You, and because I wasn’t raised to accept divorce as an option. When I spoke those vows in church, they meant something to me. With divorce off the table, it didn’t seem to make sense to disrupt everyone’s lives with a separation.”
“And now?”
“I just don’t know,” Bridget said wearily. “I still believe divorce goes against God’s will, but it seems wrong for two people to remain tied together forever when they’re both so unhappy. It’s not that I expect to meet someone new at my age, but just separating indefinitely the way it’s been these past few months would be like living the rest of my life in limbo. I honestly don’t know what my next step should be. Being here, not having to face that decision right away, has been a relief.”
“I wish you’d talked to me about this sooner,” Heather told her. “Not that I have any answers for you, but at least I could have listened.”
“I didn’t want to burden you. I was still struggling to accept that you and Connor had a child together and had no intention of getting married. Because of the way I raised you, I knew you had to have conflicting feelings about that. I thought my problems might just add to your confusion.”
Heather wasn’t ready to admit that perhaps they had. Instead, she asked, “Mom, do you believe marriages ever work?”
Bridget looked startled by the question. “Well, of course, I do. There’s evidence all around of that.”
“But there’s just as much that proves they don’t,” Heather reminded her. “Look at the divorce statistics. Look at your own situation, for heaven’s sake.”
“Too many people run at the first sign of trouble,” Bridget declared with feeling. “I’m not saying marriage isn’t hard. It is. It requires determination and compromise and enough love to weather the storms. But even with all of that, sometimes people just have to admit they’ve made a mistake. That’s the way it is for your father and me. We were a mismatch from the beginning. I’m a homebody. I like my routines. He’s a spur-of-the-moment kind of guy who’d rather hang with his buddies in a bar than sit at home with me. I thought when you came along, he’d change, but that only made things worse.”
She gave Heather an apologetic look. “Not your fault, of course. He had no idea what to do with a baby, and I started to resent him not being around to help. I could go on and on. We tried, though. I even got him into counseling for a couple of sessions, but the truth was, he didn’t want to change. I just had to accept that.”
Heather regarded her mother with sympathy. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She turned the heat under the sauce to low and sat down next to Heather. “I’m painting a picture of all the things that went wrong, but there were some good times. Quite a lot of them, if I’m being honest.”
Her expression turned nostalgic. “Nobody could make me laugh like your father could. And there was many a night in the early days when I’d go with him to the Irish pub down the block just to hear him sing. The man has a voice like an angel. I think that’s why I fell in love with him.”
Heather tried to recall a single time she’d heard her father sing, but none came to mind. “He never sang at home, not even in the shower,” she said. “I would have heard him.”
“He did in the early years,” Bridget told her. “And he sang you to sleep more than once when you were a baby and I couldn’t get you to stop crying.”
“I wish I could remember that,” Heather said wistfully. What she remembered most was a handsome man who seldom smiled and had little to say. Though he rarely yelled and had never lifted a hand to her, she’d always had the sense she needed to tiptoe around him, taking care not to anger him. There were none of the warm, loving memories all of the O’Briens seemed to have of Mick. It was as if her father had been there, but hadn’t been involved in her life, almost a stranger on the fringes of it. And yet she had adored him, had longed for his approval just as most young girls did with their fathers.
“Do you want to stay in Chesapeake Shores?” Heather asked tentatively. “You could go on working with me at the quilt shop. It won’t pay much, but if you stay here with me, your living expenses will be modest.”
Her mother looked touched by the offer. “Sweetheart, thank you for that. I have to admit, the thought has crossed my mind more than once since I’ve been here, but I just don’t know.”
“Is that because you don’t want to stay?” Heather asked. “Or because you don’t think you should?”
“Mostly the latter,” her
mother said candidly, “though not for the reason you’re probably thinking. It’s not that I think leaving your father permanently is wrong. I just wonder if I won’t be in the way here. I don’t want to be the reason you and Connor don’t work things out.”
“What’s happening between Connor and me has nothing to do with you,” Heather protested. “We agreed long ago not to get married.”
“But things have changed,” her mother protested. “That was Connor’s decision back then, not yours. Now, it seems he’s changed his mind. What I don’t understand is your reluctance to accept his proposal.”
Heather sighed. “That does seem to be the question of the day,” she said. “I’m not sure I have an answer to it.”
Her mother patted her hand. “Then you need to spend some time thinking about it because if I’ve figured out one thing about that young man of yours, it’s that he’s not patient.”
“Well, I’ve waited this long for him to come to his senses, now he can wait for me to catch up with him,” Heather said with a touch of defiance.
Bridget’s gaze narrowed. “So, this is payback?”
Heather was stunned by the observation. “Of course not,” she said at once.
But was it? Or was Connor right that the turmoil in her mother’s life, which she now understood more clearly, had shaken her faith in marriage? She simply didn’t know.
But her mother was right about one thing. She needed to figure it out, and she needed to do it quickly before she lost everything she’d ever wanted.
On Saturday, a few minutes after the quilting class had ended downstairs, Connie burst into Heather’s apartment.
“You need to come with me,” she declared urgently, pacing from one end of the small space to the other, clearly agitated. “Right now.”
Heather gestured toward her propped-up leg. “Hello! Not very mobile here.”
“I’ll get you down the stairs and into my car if I have to carry you myself,” Connie said.
Heather could see that her friend was thoroughly flustered. What she didn’t understand was why. “How about you sit down, take a deep breath and tell me what on earth has you in such a state?”
Connie kept right on pacing. “There’s no time. I have to get to one of those events for Thomas’s foundation—you know, the ones that Shanna and I have organized.”
“Okay,” Heather said slowly. “And you want me to come along?”
“You have to come along,” Connie corrected.
“Why? Do you need extra help? Did Shanna bail on you?”
“Shanna bailed, but that’s not the problem.”
“Sweetie, you’re going to have to spell this out for me, because I’m a little lost here. You know I’m willing to do whatever I can to help, but I need to have some clue about what that is.”
Connie stopped, sucked in a deep breath and blurted, “I think I’m falling for Uncle Thomas. I mean Thomas. He’s not my uncle, is he? That would be bad. But it’s pretty bad anyway because he’s my brother’s uncle-in-law, and he’s older than me.” She sighed and finally sank into a chair. “Am I insane or what?”
Even though she knew it was precisely the wrong thing to do, Heather chuckled. She tried to hide it, but the scowl on Connie’s face told her she’d been unsuccessful.
“I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “You’re obviously upset, and all I can think is how fantastic this is.”
“It is not fantastic,” Connie retorted. “Were you not listening to me? This practically shouts disaster.”
“How does he feel about you?” Heather asked.
Connie looked bewildered by the very logical question. “I have no idea. I guess he likes me well enough, but that’s the thing. He’s smart enough to know this is crazy. Even if there was some kind of attraction, he’d never do anything about it. I mean we’re practically family, for heaven’s sake. Just think of the furor.”
“You are not family,” Heather said firmly. “Let’s get that out of the way once and for all. And you’re both consenting adults. I’m not saying it might not get complicated—we’re talking O’Briens. Everything about them is complicated.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Connie said. “I need you with me today. I need you to keep me from doing something I’ll regret.”
Heather bit back a smile. “Such as? Have you ever thrown yourself into a man’s arms out of the blue? Impulsively kissed one senseless?”
Connie looked appalled by both suggestions. “Of course not.”
“Then I think you’re going to be just fine. You’re over-thinking this. This project the two of you are working on is the best scenario possible under the circumstances. You’ll be thrown together innocently for a good cause, and you’ll have time to really get to know each other. If there’s something between you, it will develop naturally and when the time is right.”
“I suppose,” Connie said, then asked plaintively, “Are you sure you can’t come with me?”
“Oh, I’m coming,” Heather said, struggling to her feet. “Do you think for one second I’m going to miss a firsthand glimpse of what’s going on between you two?”
Connie’s gaze narrowed. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“It definitely beats sitting around trying to figure out how things got so mixed up between Connor and me,” Heather said, heading for the landing. “Grab my purse. I think if I’m really careful and you go down ahead of me, I can make it down these steps without breaking my neck. I’ve been envisioning the way I need to do it for days now. You’ve just provided the motivation I needed to try it.”
Connie took her place in front of Heather and helped her take each step at an excruciatingly slow pace. Only when they’d reached the bottom and Heather had managed to get into the passenger seat of her car did Connie turn to her with a beaming smile. “I suppose I should tell you that Connor’s filling in for Shanna today.”
Heather stared at her. “You sneak! Was the whole Thomas thing some kind of subterfuge to get me to go with you?”
“Oh, no. That’s real enough. I just figured if I was going to let you watch me squirm, you should know that I’m going to keep my eyes on the two of you as well. I’m today’s designated meddler.”
Heather wasn’t sure whether to take her seriously or not. “Are you telling me the family has drawn straws to see who’s going to mess with my head or Connor’s on any given day?”
“The arrangement’s not quite that formal,” Connie admitted. “But we’ve all taken an interest in the situation. You may as well get used to it. Even if we weren’t talking you and an O’Brien, we’re talking Chesapeake Shores. It’s a town that likes its happy endings.”
“Oh, sweet heaven!” Heather murmured. She and Connor were doomed.
Connor had now filled in at a couple of these events to save the bay, and he’d discovered he enjoyed them. He was getting to spend some time in communities around the region, helping a worthy cause, and little Mick loved running around outside and eating hot dogs or whatever else was being served.
Connor’s understanding and admiration for the work his uncle and Kevin were doing had deepened as well. He was even thinking of offering to do the group’s legal work pro bono as his own contribution to the cause.
Today he’d driven down ahead of Connie and set up the tables for selling books and foundation memberships. He’d toted all the boxes of books over as well. Now he and little Mick were walking around to visit the handful of vendors who’d used the occasion to set up their own booths selling locally grown produce, crafts and even baked goods.
“Cookies, Da!” his son announced excitedly, spotting a tray of big chocolate chip cookies. “Please?”
“After lunch,” Connor said firmly.
His son’s expression turned mutinous. “Now!”
The woman sitting in the booth gave him a sympathetic look. “At that age, later is not a concept they’re fond of. If it helps, you should know that these always sell out early. Maybe if you bought one
now and gave him just a bite, it wouldn’t spoil his lunch.”
“That would certainly be better than sticking to my guns and then coming back to find they’re all gone,” Connor agreed. He paid the woman, broke off a small piece of the cookie for Mick, then put the rest in a bag. “Thanks.”
“I saw you setting up over there. You’re with Mr. O’Brien, aren’t you?”
“Actually, I’m his nephew, Connor O’Brien.”
“Nice to meet you, Connor. I’m Maggie Carter. Please tell your uncle for me that I think the work he’s doing is wonderful. I’ve been a member of the foundation since it was started. I’m sure he’ll attract a lot of new members today. I’ll certainly send everyone who stops by here over your way.”
“Thank you,” Connor said. “I’ll be sure to tell him that. I know he’ll appreciate the support.”
Little Mick looked up at him. “More cookie?” he asked hopefully.
“Not yet,” Connor told him, then smiled at the woman. “I’d better get him a hot dog. Stop by the booth later and meet my uncle, if you have the time.”
“I certainly will.”
Connor took little Mick’s hand and had started toward the hot dog vendor, when his son broke free with an excited shout.
“Mama!” he said, toddling off toward the foundation’s booth.
Startled, Connor stared after him. Sure enough, Heather was hobbling unsteadily across the uneven ground, Connie’s hand tucked under her elbow. Connor scooped Mick into his arms and raced toward them, hoping to avert disaster. He thrust Mick into Connie’s arms, then put an arm securely around Heather’s waist.
“Are you deliberately trying to break your neck?” he asked, trying to fight down the fear he’d felt when he’d seen her awkward progress. The ground simply wasn’t made for crutches. “There are all sorts of holes and dips on this green. You could have fallen.”
Her gaze clashed with his. “But I didn’t, did I? I was very careful.”
“Still, it was an accident waiting to happen. What are you doing here, anyway?”
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