Someone knocked on the snow-covered window.
I opened the door to find Uncle Martin standing tall like the former soldier he’d been. His graying honey-colored hair was starting to collect snow at a fast pace. “We’ll get the bags later. For now, let’s get everyone inside and by the fire.”
We hardly had snow in Fort Bragg, but I was sure my brothers and sisters would love to play in it. That was all they’d talked about while driving up. The newscaster on the radio had been talking about some snowstorm moving into New England.
We piled out of the car, and I grabbed Harlan. Since we weren’t exactly experts in snow, I carried him so he wouldn’t fall on the slick driveway. My mom held onto Charlotte’s hand while the rest of my siblings climbed onto the deck, and shuffled into a kitchen I’d only seen in movies. We’d lived in military housing, and while the home was nice, it wasn’t extravagant like the one I was standing in.
Stainless-steel appliances sparkled, pots and pans hung down over the massive island, and cabinets galore filled the space.
Aunt Eleanor was stirring something on the stove that smelled out of this world.
I set Harlan on his feet, and he ran out of the kitchen through an arched doorway.
“Ethan,” Mom said to my fifteen-year-old brother. “Go help Harlan. He probably needs to use the bathroom.”
Ethan rolled his brown eyes as he trudged after my brother, not giving Mom any flack like he usually did. He’d been super quiet since Dad’s death. I was worried about him, but I was hoping the move would help him clear his head.
“We’re so happy you decided to come,” Aunt Eleanor said.
Aside from my dad’s funeral, I had only seen my aunt one time when I’d been a tike. Apparently, she’d been in a mental-health facility after my cousin, Karen, died. Nevertheless, she looked exactly like Elizabeth Taylor.
In fact, she’d turned some heads during my dad’s memorial service when she’d glided in like a Hollywood star, dressed in an expensive tailored dress. I only knew it was expensive because the ladies in the church had whispered as much.
“Kids,” Uncle Martin piped in. “Let’s head down to the family room. You can watch a movie while the men unload the car.” He eyed me, Marcus, and my thirteen-year-old brother, Jasper.
“I’ll help too.” Emma, Ethan’s twin, batted her big brown eyes at Uncle Martin.
“So will I,” Maple added.
My mom smoothed two hands over her short hair. She had always complained that her hair was too long and too much trouble, so she’d cut five inches off one day. My dad had loved her new look. He’d teased her that it was easier to pepper kisses all over her neck, something he’d loved to do.
I hoped one day I would have a loving relationship with someone, like my parents had. But I was sixteen, and girls were not on my radar. Honestly, girls were a distraction.
My buddies would brag about their girlfriends and their first kiss or how breasts felt. I listened but didn’t see the draw. Dad had always taught me to stay focused on what I wanted, and girls, dating, and kissing weren’t high on that list. I wasn’t gay, and I wasn’t oblivious to pretty girls, but sports were more my thing, basketball in particular. Anything other than basketball and family was white noise.
My sister Emma had told me that girls in school thought I was to die for. “Come on, Maiken,” she’d said. “You’re a boy for Pete’s sake. You got to go out on a date sometime.”
I would when I was good and ready. In my mind, the high school girls who’d thrown themselves at me were forward, pushy, gossipy, too confident, and self-absorbed. Maybe I would change my tune someday, but right now I had bigger things to worry about like how to help my mom.
We unloaded the car and ate lunch. When the younger kids crashed on the huge couch in the family room, Uncle Martin showed Ethan and me to a large bedroom on the first floor. At first, I thought we were taking the master suite, but I learned that the room had been my cousin Kade’s.
With six bedrooms in the house, everyone was divided up with enough room that we didn’t feel crowded, one of the perks of a mansion.
I was unpacking my suitcase when Ethan plopped down on one of the twin beds and slumped his shoulders, wearing one of his sad expressions that had become the norm for him since Dad had passed.
I sat across from him on the other twin bed. “What’s wrong?” I knew he wasn’t that stoked about moving.
He lifted his head. “I want to go home. I want to see Hannah. I want to see my friends. I want Dad back.”
I briefly closed my eyes. The one thing that had sucked the big one about Dad being in the military was moving constantly. The change hadn’t affected my younger siblings as much as it had Jasper, Marcus, Emma, Ethan, and me, although Emma was looking forward to a new school, and Jasper was much like Harlan. He loved the open space and nature. So I was sure Jasper would be fine.
But the bigger issue wasn’t missing friends as much as wishing our dad were alive.
I took in a huge breath, staving off the need to cry, something I’d only done when I was alone. I couldn’t let my brothers and sisters or even my mom see me break down. My family needed me to be strong, but it was difficult to mask my emotions or to get the memory out of my head of the two military men who’d shown up at our door.
“Ma’am,” one of them had said to my mom. “It is with great sadness to tell you that your husband, Lieutenant Colonel Harlan Maxwell, was killed on a mission in Iraq.”
“How?” had been my question.
“Roadside bomb,” one of the men in dress blues had said.
Ethan’s sniffling brought me back to the present. Tears were streaming down his face.
I joined him on his bed and wrapped my arm around him. “Dude, we’ll get through this. Hey, maybe we can go to a Celtics game.” Ethan loved basketball as much as I did, but he wasn’t a Celtics fan, and neither was I. We both cheered for the San Antonio Spurs.
He clamored to his feet, not saying a word, then locked himself in the en suite bathroom.
I could push to console him, but like all of us in the family, he needed time. So I resumed unpacking and tried to keep my mind in the moment. We had a great place to live. My mom had said it was only temporary, but I wondered how long we would be there. My dad had always said that we should make the best of where we were. So that was my motto, or at least I hoped I could take that advice.
The farm store was bustling with customers loading up on the essentials like eggs, farm-fresh milk, and other goodies. We were busier than normal, not only because of the holiday, but because a nor’easter was on its way and about to dump more snow than it had the night before.
Momma stocked her table with jams while I unpacked a box of honey on a display next to her. She wiped her hands on her apron. “We’ll need to order more of everything.” She set her russet-colored gaze on me.
I squatted down to collect the packing slip that had fallen out of the box. “What about the eggs?” It wasn’t as if we could make our chickens produce more eggs at the snap of a finger.
Momma laughed. “Gray’s farm will help if we run into a pickle.”
We had had to purchase more eggs last year during Easter when eggs were in high demand.
I rose with two jars of honey. “Momma, did Dad find any help yet?” We were hiring for the Christmas season, to help with our Christmas tree business in particular.
She plucked the last jar of jam from the box and set it on the table. “Not yet. Is the order ready for Eleanor Maxwell?”
I continued to stack jars of honey on the table. “Yes, ma’am.” I’d made sure I had taken care of Mrs. Maxwell’s order the previous night, and all our call-ahead orders for that matter. But since Momma and Eleanor were great friends, Momma wanted to take care of her bestie. I did too. Eleanor was one of the sweetest ladies aside from Momma and Granny.
Momma kissed me on my temple. “Thank you. Now are you going to ask Eleanor if you can use the lake this year?” She moved a st
rand of her dark-brown hair that had fallen out of her bun behind her ear.
I stopped in my tracks. “Are you asking if I’m going to pick up skating again?” Wow! We hadn’t spoken about me strapping on my skates in well over a year. I’d put my heart and soul into ice-skating and competing up until the eighth grade. But then I didn’t know if I’d grown out of the sport or if I’d just hated losing all the time to Tessa Stevens.
My mom pursed her cranberry-stained lips. “Quinn, you can’t let someone like Tessa stop you from doing something you love. You still love the sport, right?”
Voices hummed around us as customers browsed.
I shrugged, even though I loved how free I felt on the ice. “Momma, I want to put all my effort into my studies. If I can make a run for valedictorian, then maybe I could get an academic scholarship to Duke University or the University of North Carolina.” Those were my top two choices, mainly because Duke’s school of medicine was ranked high in the country. If I put all my time into competing on the ice, then I wouldn’t have time to add to my college résumé and application.
Not only that, ice-skating cost money, and we weren’t rich like Tessa Stevens. Besides, college tuition was much more expensive than we could ever afford, which was why if I was going to skate, it would be just for fun.
Momma crossed her arms over her tan sweater, her expression taking on one that said listen to me, or else I will ground you to your room. She looked beautiful no matter if she was scolding me or if she was covered in mud from trying to help Dad corral a pig who had gotten out of the pen. Then she sighed, her features loosening. “I guess I can’t argue with that. School is important, and I know you want to be a doctor. I just want to be sure you’re not letting Tessa get in your head. I know you, Quinn. You can study, make valedictorian, and skate. You don’t have to give up one for the other.”
That might have been true, but skating wouldn’t support me for the rest of my life, although I did enjoy getting out in the cold weather and doing jumps like the triple toe and Salchow or even just gliding around the ice.
I pecked her on the cheek. “I love you. But if I do skate, it will be for fun.”
Momma moved hair off my face. “You should be having fun in high school. These next three years should be all about growing and exploring, and dare I say boyfriend too. Please don’t hide away like you did last year.”
I rolled my eyes as I thought of how awful freshman year had been. The juniors and seniors had rolled out the red carpet when it came to bullying and teasing freshmen. One senior had said it was tradition. Horse cocky.
Sophomore year wasn’t proving to be any better. The bullying hadn’t diminished. Boys didn’t see me as girlfriend material. Most only saw me as a nerd who could help them with their schoolwork. I wasn’t interested in any of the boys in my grade. Plus, Celia had ditched me, although she had shown up to help at the store—a sign that she really did want to make amends.
I briefly considered Celia, who was working the register. “Momma, boys in my high school only think about sports and getting into a girl’s pants.” I delivered the last part in a hushed whisper. That was mostly true for the jocks, which was what we called the boys who wore letter jackets and played sports and thought they were above anyone else.
My mom didn’t flinch. If I’d said all that to my dad, he would’ve turned dark red, gotten his shotgun out, and prepared to shoot the boy who dared to look at me. My brothers would’ve done the same. None of the boys in my school were good for me according to my oldest brother, Carter. If any boy stepped close to me when Carter was around, chaos ensued.
But he had nothing to worry about. I’d grown up with big brothers who had taught me how to handle myself. Even Momma had made sure I knew where to kick first if the opposite sex tried anything I didn’t like.
The bell on the door dinged, announcing more customers. They trudged in, stomping their boots on the mat to rid them of the snow.
“The right boy will respect you. If they don’t, you remember what I taught you?”
I smiled. “Yes, ma’am. Hit them where it counts.”
Satisfied with my answer, she scurried off to help, of all people, Mrs. Stevens, Tessa’s mom.
Celia bounced over.
I scanned the modest room, which had ten customers, but no one was ready to check out.
Celia flicked her ponytail over her shoulder. Her dark hair matched the color of her eyes, and she wore a ton of makeup, which was odd considering her mom wouldn’t let her use the stuff. “Is everything okay?” She pointed at my mom. “You two were huddled like she was giving you a speech. Did you get in trouble?”
Mrs. Stevens, who was bundled up for the winter storm, nodded at something Momma had said.
I took off one of my fingerless gloves. “We were talking about boys. Nothing special.” I wanted to trust Celia. I wanted to believe she was serious about being friends again. I did miss her, our talks, riding horses, and just playing on the farm.
She hooked her arm in mine. “Quinn, boys are everything. Don’t you want to experience your first kiss or go out on your first date?” She sounded as though Tessa had filled her mind with dirty stuff. “I know I do.”
Celia was pretty underneath the heavy blue eye shadow and rose blush. She could’ve probably had her pick of any guy. But in my opinion, she was wrong about boys. “Why would you say they’re everything? Explain.” I had to hear her view on the topic because I only saw jocks that were self-centered, rude, and belligerent. From the conversations I’d overheard in some of my classes, the jocks bragged about whatever sport was in season or their latest conquests. And ew! I didn’t like what I’d heard on the topic of their sex lives either.
Celia guided me over to the doorway that led to the storage room and the bathroom. “Quinn, we’re women. We have needs.”
I busted out laughing. “Needs? Like in coitus?” That was the word we’d always used instead of sex.
She playfully punched me on the arm. “Come on. Don’t you feel hot and tingly down there when you see a boy you like?”
I could feel my face turning red despite the fact that I didn’t have my eye on anyone who gave me those feelings. “Who is he?” She was crushing on someone. I’d known her too long not to see the signs of red cheeks, red neck, and that faraway look in her eyes. The last time she’d displayed all those signs, she had the hots for Danny in the fifth grade.
She studied me. “Do you really want to know?”
“If you want to tell me.” She’d better tell me, because we were friends, and friends told each other everything.
She glanced past me. “Don’t get upset. But I have a crush on your brother Liam.”
Now their silent interaction from the day before made sense. “So you lied to me yesterday? Something is going on between you two?” I didn’t care that she had a crush on my brother or that my brother might like her. “If you want me to trust you, then you better start telling the truth.”
She shuddered. “I kissed Liam. That’s all. The tension you saw between us yesterday was more because he’s afraid I’ll kiss him again. I don’t want to talk about it right now.” She sounded heartbroken.
Again, I didn’t care if they liked each other, but I did wonder if her sudden apology had had anything to do with Liam. “Celia, do you want to be friends again because you want to get close to Liam?” If she said yes, then I would kick her out right then.
Her mouth fell open. “No! I was honest when I said I miss us.” She seemed sincere in her delivery.
The conversation was getting a little tense, and we had customers to attend to. “We can talk more later. But I will say this. Don’t use me to get to Liam.”
She pushed her glasses up on her nose. “I promise you on my grandmother’s grave that I would never do that. I need to get back to the register. Your mom is eyeing me.” She bounced off.
I believed her only because I knew how much she adored her grandmother, and Celia didn’t throw out promises easily.
Still, time would tell how our friendship would evolve.
I headed into the storeroom, thinking of what my mom had said about dating. I didn’t get a chance to dwell on the topic before my mom came in. “Eleanor is here.”
“I’ll be right out with Mrs. Maxwell’s order.” I made quick work of organizing the box of eggs, jams, marmalade, and bacon. Eleanor always had a big order, but on that day, she’d ordered double of everything. She’d mentioned to Momma that she had family coming into town.
I collected the box and had just started to leave the storeroom when Celia flew in.
“O-M-G. You have got to see him.” She practically dragged me out with her. I’d known Celia since the second grade, and I knew two things excited her—horses and Shawn Mendes. I didn’t see a horse anywhere in the store, and there was no way Shawn Mendes would be in our small town in Massachusetts.
We settled in the doorway, looking out at the various customers milling around.
She leaned in. “He’s over by the hats.”
I followed her gaze, or more like her finger, which she had pointed at what Momma would call a tall drink of water.
“Isn’t he dreamy?” Celia cooed.
The boy’s sandy-blond hair was cut short on the sides like the men I’d seen in those military movies my dad loved to watch.
I wanted to ask her what had happened to her crush on Liam. Instead, I sighed like Celia had at the Shawn Mendes concert. The somewhat heavy box in my hand felt weightless.
Dreamy didn’t begin to describe the boy at all. He had a strong jaw, a somewhat crooked nose as though he’d broken it in a fight, and a broad chest.
He tried on a beanie that my granny had made then examined himself in the small mirror we had on the counter for that very reason.
“I love how that Henley fits him,” Celia said.
Dreamy Boy checked the price on the hat then returned it to the pile. My heart fell a notch. He was dressed nicely enough in jeans, army boots, and no jacket, which seemed odd considering the temperature was around fifteen degrees outside.
My Heart To Touch: A Maxwell Family Saga - Book One Page 2