Forever Mine: Callaghan Brothers, Book 9

by Abbie Zanders

  “Tell Maggie I like the orange juice with lots of pulp.”

  Michael grinned back at him triumphantly. “I knew you were a smart man.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “You outdid yourself, lass,” Jack told Maggie, taking in the remodeled playroom. It resembled a studio-sized, modest man cave. The walls had been painted a calming blue, the windows fitted with remote-controlled, light blocking shades. A full-sized, adjustable bed with half a dozen pillows in deep tans, greens, and blues dominated one side of the room. There was a massaging, heated recliner, side table, and mini-fridge on the other. A thirty-two inch flat screen was mounted on an adjustable arm, visible from anywhere in the space.

  Thankfully, Michael had given him a heads-up that Maggie had gone a little overboard. Had he not been forewarned, his first reaction would have been, “What the hell have you gone and done all this for?” Then Maggie’s feelings would have been hurt, and he would have felt like an arse.

  “Do you like it?” Maggie asked hopefully.

  “Aye, but you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.” Michael shot him a warning look. Jack ignored it. He had to say something to that effect, or Maggie would know he’d been coached and primed.

  Maggie beamed at him. “Anything for you, Dad. We are so glad you agreed to stay with us. Michael didn’t believe you would.” She shot her husband an I-told-you-so look.

  Jack, wisely, kept his mouth shut and said nothing.

  After a couple of days, Jack had to admit, it wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it would be. He enjoyed spending time with his grandchildren. Ryan, who had just started Kindergarten, couldn’t wait to tell his grandpa all about his day and the things he’d done the moment he got off the school bus. Ryan reminded Jack a lot of Ian at that age, brimming with energy and mischief. The baby, Colin, was very much like his father, Michael. At only a year old, he already gave the impression that he was quietly processing everything around him.

  Maggie respected his privacy, too. He’d been worried that she’d dote on him constantly, but she didn’t. In fact, he often found himself wandering out to her big kitchen for some company and to sample her latest creations. Baking was how Maggie dealt with stress, but since his heart attack, she’d been experimenting with healthier foods. He appreciated the effort, but his son Ian, who was addicted to Maggie’s gooey, homemade bear claws, shot him angry glances whenever he came by and found baked apples or whole-grain muffins instead.

  Maggie’s kitchen was also the central hub of family intel, he’d learned. Not a day went by when someone didn’t stop over for coffee or one of Maggie’s homegrown herbal teas. He learned a lot about what was going on that way.

  “You are positively glowing,” Maggie told Lacie one such afternoon.

  “Thanks,” Lacie replied, blushing. “Is it that obvious?”

  Having wandered into the kitchen at the sound of Maggie’s Basset hound’s welcoming bark, Jack had no idea what they were going on about, but Lacie did look exceptionally happy.

  “Does Shane know?”

  “Yes,” she confided. “He’s thrilled! We just took the test this morning.”

  Realization dawned. He was going to be a grandfather again. Shane was the only one of his sons who hadn’t had a child yet. It was understandable; Lacie had gone through some awful things at the hand of a psychotic family friend. She’d come a long way with the help of his quiet, empathic son, but the journey had not been an easy one.

  “Congratulations, lass,” Jack beamed.

  “Thanks.” She grinned shyly. “I don’t know how everyone does it. I’m excited and terrified at the same time.”

  “You’re more prepared than most of us were,” Maggie laughed. “You teach Kindergarten.”

  Lacie gratefully accepted the tea Maggie handed her and shook her head. “It’s not the same. I get to go home at the end of the day and unwind. I won’t have that option with a child of our own. What if I can’t handle it?”

  “You will,” Maggie assured her firmly. “You are going to be a wonderful mother. I can sense it. And don’t worry. You’ve got all of us to help.”

  Lacie turned to Jack and grinned. “This must seem pretty silly to you, huh? I mean, you raised seven boys, and they all turned out so well. That is some quality parenting.”

  “I didn’t do it alone,” Jack told her. “My Kathleen was an amazing woman. She’s the primary reason those boys became fine men.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Dad,” Maggie said. “Michael often says you are his role model.”

  “Shane says the same thing,” Lacie agreed, nodding. “You make it look so easy.”

  Jack was somewhat taken aback. He and his sons didn’t talk about things like that. After Kathleen passed, it was all he could do to just make it from one minute to the next. It had been survival. Survival and the certain knowledge that Kathleen would hold him accountable if anything happened to their boys.

  Suddenly feeling out of his comfort zone, Jack grabbed his mug of warm tea and stood. “I’ll leave you ladies to it. Congratulations again, Lacie. For what it’s worth, I think you will make a fine mother.”

  “Are you okay, Dad?” Maggie asked. Her green eyes were etched with concern.

  Jack forced a smile and hoped it looked convincing. “Aye. Just going to put my feet up for a bit. That last turn around the yard left me a bit tired.”

  “Was it something I said?” he heard Lacie ask Maggie softly.

  “No,” Maggie answered. “He’s under strict orders to rest for a couple of hours every afternoon, and he knows I’ll get on his case if he doesn’t.”

  Good woman, Maggie.

  Jack closed the door behind him and settled into the recliner. With the push of a button or two, his feet went up and his head went back. Heat began to radiate along his back and legs, easing some of the aches and pains that came naturally with his age. The indulgent chair was not something he’d ever pick out for himself, but he had to admit, it was relaxing.

  Pointing the remote at the flat screen, he turned the television on to ESPN and lowered the volume until it was a pleasant background drone. Then he closed his eyes and exhaled. Only then did he allow himself to think about what Maggie and Lacie had said.

  Was he a good father? He’d tried to be. Experience and time were great teachers, but, knowing what he did now, would he have made different choices?

  Maybe. Maybe not.

  Kids had it too easy nowadays. Encouragement was a good thing, but in his opinion, children needed to fail once in a while. They weren’t supposed to like it. That was part of the learning process. That’s what made them work harder, made them do better.

  That didn’t just apply to kids. Parents had to learn from their mistakes, too. And sometimes, it wasn’t easy.

  December 1975

  Pine Ridge

  “Kathleen, sit down.”

  “In a minute,” she huffed, rearranging yet another branch of fresh pine boughs along the windowsill, tying them with strips of red, velvety ribbon. He had to admit, the place looked wonderful. A lot of patching and sanding, a couple fresh coats of paint, and the new window dressings Kathleen had sewn from remnants went a long way. Little by little it was all coming together.

  Continued unexpected repairs month after month were putting a drain on their finances, and the renovation was a lower priority than food, heat, and a sturdy roof over their heads, so they did whatever they could do themselves to save money. His brother-in-law, Seamus, was a big help, too, but Jack was particular about what he would allow Seamus to do. A man had his pride, after all. Thankfully, Seamus understood that and spent a lot of time teaching him the proper ways of home and Pub repair.

  Now in her final month of her pregnancy, Kathleen had finally agreed to give up her shifts at O’Leary’s, but if he was hoping she would take it easy, he was disappointed. She was still doing the books for the Pub, the diner, and Connelly Construction, as well as working her ass off around the place, especially in their
upstairs living quarters.

  Seamus said it was called “nesting”, and was something expectant mothers did to prepare for their babies. Jack didn’t know about that, but he did know she was doing too much. He put a stop to it whenever he could, but his wife was a clever woman, and took advantage of the hours he had to put in behind the bar to sneak in improvements.

  “Kathleen. Do not make me come over there.”

  The infuriating woman actually had the gumption to laugh at him. “Is that a threat?”

  He’d show her a threat. He leaped over the bar (not as easy a move now as it had been in basic training) and was by her side in the span of a few heartbeats as the amused patrons looked on.

  “My plan worked,” she smirked, snaking her arms up around his neck and giving him a kiss right there in front of everyone. He had to lean over; her extra-large baby bump wouldn’t allow him the full frontal contact he craved.

  “Resorting to trickery, Mrs. Callaghan?” he asked, raising a brow.

  “Whatever it takes, Mr. Callaghan. Your kisses are worth it.”

  It was impossible to love her any more than he already did, yet his heart swelled. He felt a prod against his stomach about the same time Kathleen sucked in a breath.

  “He’s moving again,” she said, her voice somewhat breathless. “He wants out.”

  Jack led her to a chair and eased her onto it. Rubbing his hand over her belly, he directed his comments to his unborn son. “Not yet, little man. You’ve got a few more weeks to go.”

  “I don’t think we’re going to make it to the due date, Jack.”

  “What does the doctor say?”

  Kathleen’s gaze went to her belly. “He says he is going to be a big one. I’ve got to agree with him on this one. When this kid rolls over, my entire body moves with him.”

  Jack chuckled at that. The thought of a big, healthy son was a welcome one, but he worried what it would do to his wife. She wasn’t a large woman.

  “You should be in bed with your feet up,” Jack scolded her. “Not decorating the bar for the holidays.”

  “I can’t.” Her voice held the hint of a whine, which was so unlike her. “I can’t get comfortable. I can’t lay down without losing my breath. I can’t sit up because my back hurts so bad...” Her lower lip wobbled and her eyes filled with tears. “Jack, I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “Ah, baby. Everything’s going to be okay.” He kissed her tears away. At first he’d been concerned about the dramatic mood swings that seemed to take hold suddenly and without warning; now he was taking them in stride (mostly). Everyone assured him it was part of the process. Apparently women tended to get very emotional in the final stages of pregnancy, something about an overabundance of potent hormones or the like.

  “I know. I’m sorry,” she sniffed. “Would you help me into the kitchen? I just need a few minutes to get myself together.”

  “Of course, baby.”

  Jack helped her to her feet and walked with her into the back. He fetched her a glass of ice water and got her settled on the old couch in there with an order to rest. This time, she didn’t argue. As ratty as the couch was, she said it was the only piece of furniture that she could sit in comfortably these days. More than once she’d fallen asleep on it, and he’d slept on the floor beside it each time. Both of their backs would appreciate when the kid finally decided to make his grand appearance.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” she smiled wearily. “I’m fine. Just tired, cranky, and very, very pregnant. Go on with you, now. You’re needed out front.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. I’m just going to close my eyes for a bit and see if I can get this little guy to take a nap with me.”

  He didn’t want to leave her, but he had a full bar. Several small local businesses decided to come to the Pub for their pre-holiday celebrating and they were slammed. Under normal circumstances, he’d be thrilled, but he couldn’t help worrying about Kathleen. Despite her assurances that everything was okay, she was looking paler than usual.

  “Go,” she insisted.

  “Okay. I’ll check back on you in a few minutes. If you need anything before then, just yell, all right?”

  “I will.”

  Jack reluctantly went back to the bar, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He checked on her about half an hour later, and she appeared to be napping. Unwilling to wake her, he slipped back out front and peeked in when he could. Brian was doing a great job, but it was a lot easier to keep up with both of them out there.

  It was several hours later when things had calmed down enough for him to catch his breath. He walked into the kitchen, hoping she was still dozing peacefully. Instead, he found her doubled-over, fighting for breath.

  “Kathleen!”

  “The baby,” she wheezed. “He’s coming. Now.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jack paced incessantly back and forth across the waiting room. It had been more than two hours since he’d rushed Kathleen to the emergency room, and no one would tell him anything. Erin watched his back and forth progress warily, but remained silent, having given up trying to reassure him.

  “Mr. Callaghan?”

  Jack’s head snapped up at the voice of the balding, older doctor with the tired, pinched features. He crossed the room in two great strides, while Erin stood.

  “Yes. That’s me.”

  “Congratulations, Mr. Callaghan. You have a son.”

  The words were welcome, but the doctor’s tone was too flat, his expression not befitting the bearer of such good news. Jack’s chest squeezed painfully.

  “My wife, Kathleen. How is she?”

  The doctor’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “Both mother and baby are doing well, but it was close, Mr. Callaghan. Another hour and we would have lost them both.”

  “What?” he and Erin barked out at the same time. His knees threatened to buckle beneath him.

  “Your wife’s blood pressure was dangerously high, Mr. Callaghan. Regular prenatal check-ups would have caught the problem and we could have addressed it before the situation became critical.”

  “Regular prenatal check-ups?” Jack echoed, confused. “Kathleen scheduled check-ups every couple of weeks.”

  “Not with me, she didn’t.”

  Jack turned to Erin and narrowed his eyes. “She was going for check-ups, wasn’t she, Erin? Didn’t you go with her?”

  Erin looked every bit as surprised as he felt. “I did, in the beginning, but then Michael was sick... After a while, she stopped telling me about her appointments. I just assumed she was still going...”

  Jack felt the bottom fall out of his stomach. “What?”

  The doctor cleared his throat. He didn’t look quite as accusatory as he had moments earlier. “We have Kathleen sedated, but you can see her if you’d like.”

  Hell yes, he wanted to see her. He gave a brisk nod.

  Jack followed the doctor to the maternity ward, where Kathleen was sleeping. His heart nearly broke when he saw her lying there, so pale, looking so small in the big hospital bed. Her eyes were closed, her beautiful, thick lashes lost in the dark smudges beneath them. An I.V. pole loomed next to the railing, its tubes snaking down into her hand, which was taped to a small, rectangular board.

  “She’s had a hard time of it, but she’s a tough one,” the doctor said.

  Tough, Jack thought, but not invincible.

  “She’s okay?”

  “She will be. What she needs now is rest.” There was that look of blatant disapproval again. Jack didn’t care for it, but this was neither the time nor the place, and he had more important things to worry about.

  “Where is my son?”

  Jack and Erin were directed to the nursery, where about half of the bassinets held squirming, wriggling bundles.

  “There he is,” the nurse said, pointing to the clear, plastic unit at the far end.

  “Good Lord,” Erin breathed.

  “H
e is a big one,” the nurse agreed. “Ten pounds, seven ounces. Good thing she went early.”

  Jack’s hands went up to the glass as he gazed at his son for the first time. He had a shock of black hair and bright, clear blue eyes. Unlike the other babies, he wasn’t moving around a lot, or crying. His tiny eyes were open wide and staring right at Jack.

  “Would you like to hold your son, Mr. Callaghan?”

  Jack nodded jerkily, not trusting his voice.

  “Why don’t you go back to your wife’s bedside and I’ll bring him to you?”

  He was only vaguely aware of walking back toward the ward, of sinking numbly down into a square chair covered in cracked gray vinyl. The nurse told him how to position his arms, and the next thing he knew, he was holding his son.

  His son.

  “Kane,” Jack whispered, looking down into his son’s icy blue eyes. “Kane Patrick Callaghan.”

  “That’s perfect,” Kathleen murmured. Her eyes were bleary under the effects of the sedatives, but there was no hiding the happiness there.

  “Hey, baby. How are you feeling?”

  “Like I pushed a watermelon through a straw.”

  Jack touched the baby’s downy-soft shock of jet black hair. He’d already done the requisite finger and toe counts (multiple times), awed by his son’s strong grip and intense gaze.

  “You did great, Kathleen. He’s perfect.”

  Kathleen smiled weakly. “He is, isn’t he?”

  Jack had never felt such a mixture of powerful emotions warring for control. Bursting with love for his wife and son, while at the same time, hollowed out with fear and nearly trembling with anger. As Kathleen drifted in and out of sleep, the doctor’s words kept echoing in his head. Another hour and we would have lost them both.

  They’d talk about that later. Much later. At that moment, all he wanted to do was bask in this time with the two people he loved most in the world.

  “Rest, baby. You’ve earned it.”

  Her eyes fluttered and closed, and within minutes she was fast asleep again. Jack took a deep breath, then another, while his son’s eyes looked up at him accusingly.