Her Unexpected Family

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “Family stuff gets hard, doesn’t it?” Emily bent to fill the lower dishwasher tray. “I used to be so jealous of my big brother. Dave was good at everything he did. Sports, music, school. And then he was gone and I couldn’t get over the guilt of being jealous for a long time. Forgiving someone who hurts you or the ones you love is tough. And the more important they are, the harder it is to forgive and forget.”

  “No sense worrying about forgiving someone who abandons you, is there?” Grant shrugged. “My father made a choice and stuck by it. I can’t imagine wanting anything to do with him. He had his chance to be part of the family. He blew it. End of story.”

  * * *

  Ouch.

  Emily took a mental step back.

  Wasn’t forgiveness part of life? Part of being a good person?

  Can you honestly say you’ve forgiven Christopher for dumping you and having his father dismiss you from your job?

  A part of her knew he’d done her a favor, but she hadn’t felt that way eighteen months ago. Time and prayer had helped heal her.

  But Grant was talking a three-decades-old hurt. Harboring a grudge that long couldn’t be healthy, but what did she know? Her parents had been together nearly forty years. Hers was only the second divorce in their family in two decades, and that wasn’t a sought-after distinction.

  Besides, she wasn’t privy to the details. In that case, erring on the side of caution was best, but his rigid attitude concerned her. Forgiveness was a part of life, and a huge part of reconciliation. Relationships without forgiveness were doomed before they started.

  You’re not looking for a relationship, remember? You’re looking for respect, recognition and appreciation for a job well-done.

  Her goal wasn’t easy when her older sister was a paragon in the event industry, while Emily was more like a fledgling. But she was learning. “Done.” She finished loading the dishes and wiped the counter as Grant spread more cheese over the sauce-covered fresh dough. “That smells wonderful and it hasn’t even started baking yet.”

  “It’s this.” He held out the bowl of fresh mozzarella and Parmesan. “This blend is perfect, and I get it hand done at Luigi’s.”

  “Best Italian food on the lake,” she declared. “Their ravioli alone are enough to die for.”

  “Not much romance in killing your date,” he supposed with a wink as he slid the tray into the top side of the double oven. “But the food is great. Or was,” he corrected himself. “Our food tasting last week was the first night I’ve been out to eat since these guys were born.”

  “Over two years?”

  He winced a little. “Put that way, it sounds awful, doesn’t it?” He shrugged. “But life’s busy and I’d rather spend my time with the kids. But of course—” and this time he aimed a very direct gaze her way “—those things take on a different spin if you’re in very special company.”

  She pretended to misread his meaning intentionally. “Good company is never a bad thing.”

  “A bestseller on a rainy night is good company.” He leaned over and smiled at her, unafraid to make his point. “Very special company is different. That’s when you have the chance to talk to a pretty girl and you actually sit down and do it.”

  “I don’t expect that happens all that often, either, though,” she said as he went back to arranging pepperoni while Dolly attempted to wrestle the horn from her brother. “Unless the pretty girl stops by the highway department now and again.”

  “Or your house, to talk about kids.” He didn’t look up from arranging the pepperoni in even, concentric circles, but his grin underscored his meaning.

  Heat crept up her cheeks, but when Dolly put a wrestling move on Tim, Emily didn’t have time to worry about flirtations or really nice-looking overprotective fathers because she had to move quick to save Timmy from his sister’s wrath.

  And by the time Grant had calmed Timmy down and put Dolly in her high chair munching on a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, she figured she’d read too much into his words.

  “Em, can you check that pizza?”

  She opened the oven and peeked in. “Almost, but not quite. Shall I set the timer again? Give it another few minutes?”

  “That would be great.” He handed sippy cups to both kids. “So what do you think about this one?” He slanted a quiet gaze down to Dolly. “Will she just walk automatically now?”

  “She’ll probably need encouragement every step of the way until she breaks the habit of begging to be carried. Just say no.”

  He winced. “Possible fail expected.”

  She waggled her finger at him. “Be tough. Don’t think about today—focus on tomorrow. That’s important with kids, but especially with kids who have developmental issues.”

  “If you know so much about this and love kids, why go into business?” he wondered, and he didn’t seem interrogatory. Just—curious.

  “By the time I realized I was good at this and liked it, I was three years into my degree. So I stayed the course. And I like buying and looking forward to what folks will love, want or need eighteen months in advance. I enjoy having a window on the fashion world, my own sneak preview. Wipe that expression right off your face—there is nothing wrong with liking nice clothes, or finding nice clothes that look good on women of all sizes for an affordable price. You’ve got it in your head that it’s all about me.”

  He frowned as if ready to argue, and she raised a hand for quiet.

  “I have been fighting the pageant-princess image for years. I might have to do it forever, who knows? If I’d been skilled at soccer or the violin or debate, people wouldn’t look at me and see an empty head on a good body.”

  His smile said he appreciated the good body, and she couldn’t help but laugh then she sobered. “The thing is, the skill set to nail pageant wins is partially earned and partially due to God-given attributes. But isn’t that true for everything we do? The big, burly linebacker owes part of his success to body type. The amazing cellist might owe part of her talent to her parents’ genetics. In my case, I like being on stage, I’m good with people, I can dance and I think fast on my feet. Turning all of that into a free ride at NYU was a smart thing to do.”

  * * *

  It was, he admitted to himself, but he hesitated to agree because of his experience with Serenity. As a broadcaster, a good appearance was part of the job. She’d taken it to extremes, making good looks the baseline for everything. Him, her, the house, the yard. There was no arguing with her, so he went along with it most of the time. She took offense easily and would spend days in a silent, pouting mode. A change of subject would be best, he decided. “Your stint at the children’s center opened my eyes, Emily. With more than the great smile and really nice jeans,” he added.

  “Good jeans are important in any closet.” She laughed. She glanced at the clock and frowned. “I’ve got to head out. I’ve got some things to take care of for Kimberly’s wedding, and I promised I’d get them done this afternoon. Can I take my pizza to go?”

  “You have to go? Really? Or did we just scare you completely away when Dolly started painting her high chair with grape jelly?”

  Emily took a soft, warm washcloth from his hands and wiped Dolly down. “I don’t scare easy, Grant.”

  “Is that the truth?” He bent around her at the sink, to see her face. “Because it’s not just one big old scarred and kind of rusty heart in this house.”

  She met his gaze, counted the tiny flecks of green and yellow softening the deep gray around his pupil, and swallowed a sigh because Emily Gallagher didn’t sigh. Ever.

  “It’s three,” he continued softly. “And that makes a big difference.”

  “It does,” she answered quietly. “And you and I have rocked the romance boat in the past with little success.”

  “These guys were my amazingly
wonderful, tiny lifeboats.”

  She smiled in the twins’ directions. “Reason enough to stay afloat, right here. But we’ve both been burned, Grant. And we’re both cautious. Maybe too cautious, but that’s how it is.” She slipped out from beneath his arm and retrieved her jacket.

  “Does this mean no Italian food dinner date?” he asked as he set two slices of pizza onto a paper plate. “Because one of us was serious about that, Em.”

  The steady look he gave her made her heart go unsteady. There was strength in this man. Commitment was his mainstay; he was rock solid.

  But he didn’t go to church, he couldn’t forgive his father and he was feet-in-concrete stubborn. She accepted the pizza, but not the date. “A discussion we can pursue at a later time. I’m going to leave the bag of musical instruments here for Tim and Dolly to play with, okay? I borrowed them from Rory’s summertime pre-K stuff, so I have to give them back, but she won’t need them until she does next year’s session. If you don’t mind the noise.”

  He grinned in the kids’ direction. “Noise concerns went out the window when these two came in the door.”

  She liked that. His sacrificial nature with kids was a real blessing. Kids should always come first, shouldn’t they?

  Her phone suddenly beeped with a text alert. She glanced at it and frowned. “Wedding stuff. Gotta go. We’re six days out from Kimberly and Drew’s wedding, and who’d have thought the wedding planner would get the jitters? But she has and I’m needed.” She accepted the plate of pizza, smooched both kids on their sticky cheeks and headed to the door. “So next Tuesday, ten a.m. unless you hear differently, okay?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Good. And don’t forget the wedding invite for next Saturday, okay? A family invite.” She jerked a thumb toward the twins and left before the temptation to have a Sunday afternoon with Grant and those two kids proved too strong to resist.

  She recognized her attraction to Grant. And she saw it was two-sided. But two people with issues of trust and forgiveness needed to heed the warning signs God posted along the side of the romance road.

  He wanted to take her out on a date. She wanted to go.

  How she wished it could be that easy.

  * * *

  “When are Mom and Dad getting in for the wedding?” Emily asked as she tied an extravagant number of tiny ribbons into minute bows later that afternoon. “I know they had to change their flight to accommodate the doctor’s appointment in Houston.”

  “Eleven fifteen on Tuesday at the Rochester airport. Can you pick them up?” Kimberly narrowed her mouth as her attempt at ribbon tying ended in failure. She growled as she tossed the wrinkled ribbon across the room.

  “I can’t. I’m meeting with Stella Yorkos about her wedding shower, and I can’t even imagine how you’re handling her wedding because she’s three shades of crazy over a fairly simple event.”

  “Give her anything she wants to keep her reasonably happy.” When Emily winced, Kimberly sighed. “There’s really no other way around the Stellas of this world, Em. Trust me on this.”

  “It doesn’t bother you, how she argues about everything? The prices, the look, the presentation? Nothing is ever right.”

  “Welcome to my world,” said Kimberly, which was exactly why Emily didn’t fit in. She didn’t like arguing or bartering. She liked peace and contentment. Making people happy.

  “I’ll pick up Mom and Dad.” Their widowed sister-in-law Corinne raised a hand as she made a list the old-fashioned way with paper and a pen. “The kids are in school and we’ll be back here in time to help with whatever Kimberly’s fussing over at that particular moment.”

  “I don’t fuss.”

  Emily, Corinne and Rory exchanged looks and kept their mouths shut.

  Kimberly opened a box, stared at the contents and promptly burst into tears. She grabbed a handful of tissues and wiped her face. “But these are the most hideous little boxes for wedding favors I’ve ever seen. What was I thinking?”

  Emily let Rory put an arm of comfort around the oldest Gallagher, while she and Corinne looked inside the box.

  “Did you order these on purpose? Because if you did, I’m having your vision checked.”

  “That’s not what they looked like on the website.”

  Corinne brought up the website that promised high-quality boxware, perfect for country chic weddings. “They lied.”

  “You think?” Kimberly dabbed her eyes and blew her nose. “I can’t believe this—the wedding is six days away, and I don’t care that it’s not big and fancy, but I wanted it at least somewhat tasteful. And homey. And mine.”

  She teared up again. Emily slipped an arm around her and sat her down. “I am officially taking over the final details of your wedding. You will hate me now but thank me later. For this week, you will be the treasured bride, the numero uno of customers, preparing for your special, special day.”

  The use of their wry wedding term made Kimberly smile through her tears.

  “These will be shipped back, and your job this week is to focus on the Schreiner wedding in December, map out details, etc. That way you’re busy and not thinking of how totally hot Drew Slade will look in his tux.”

  “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?”

  “Beyond that,” Corinne agreed, smiling.

  “And the kid’s a total bonus,” added Rory. “Listen, about favors. A lot of brides are doing simple favors, then listing a spot where they made a donation to a charity. That’s a really nice way of giving folks a memento without breaking the bank and helping others at the same time. If you want to do that, I can design a graphic for you to put on the table.”

  “Jelly jars,” Corinne suggested. “We could get those cute little jars of jam and jelly, then tag them with the charity’s name and logo.”

  “Can we do that this close to the wedding?” Kimberly asked, then went silent when Emily nailed her with a fierce look.

  “Can and will. I’m in charge now. Remember?”

  Kimberly nodded, almost meek, and Emily couldn’t remember a time when her big sister was ever meek. “Mags needs to be brushed. Consider it therapy. We’ll plan this out and you’ll love it. I promise. Micromanaging every little thing just because you’re a crazy-efficient event planner is only going to make you insane.”

  “You’re right.” Kimberly stood, dropped her pencil and picked up the little Yorkie. “If you guys don’t mind, I’ll go over to the carriage house and watch football with my beloved. And his cute kid. And the dogs.”

  “Best idea I’ve heard in a while.” Emily hugged her, and hugging her sister felt a whole lot better than their past squabbles. “You focus on Drew and writing your vows. We’ll finish up these last-minute details.”

  “Okay.”

  Corinne waited until Kimberly had crossed the yard and disappeared into the carriage house before she burst out laughing. “Who’d have thought?”

  “I know,” agreed Emily. “The great and mighty Wizard of Oz has fallen. The best part is that we’ll be able to hold this over her head for years.” Emily grinned as she pulled up a page featuring jams, then paused. “Wait. One of the Mennonite women has been doing this kind of thing for Brian’s farm store on East Lake Road. Gabby mentioned it to me.” Their cousin Brian Gallagher had developed a thriving farm market on the southeast end of the lake. His converted barn housed goods and wares from the entire agricultural and craft community.

  “Yes.” Rory nodded as she retaped the carton of wretched-looking miniature boxes. “They donate gift boxes to lots of charity events.”

  “Rory, can you see if they can fill the order for a hundred-and-forty four-ounce jars of assorted jams and jellies with gold lids by Friday? That way we’re keeping business local. The cookies that were going to go into the boxes can be put out on trays, and we’ll ha
ve Kimberly and Drew pick a charity.” She texted her sister, not really expecting a quick response, but when Kimberly’s reply came through, Emily smiled. “They want the donation to be made to the 9/11 Memorial to honor fallen first responders.”

  Corinne paused. So did Rory. They looked at each other, then away. Corinne broke the silence. “You’d think after more than ten years, it wouldn’t get to me, wouldn’t you? You’d think I’d be able to just shrug the whole thing off now. Losing Dave, having him gone. But every now and again it hits like a wall of bricks, falling on my head.”

  “You don’t date, Corinne.” Emily didn’t want to pry, but they’d lost her brother and Corinne’s husband in a drug sting gone bad over a decade ago. “Ever. Why?”

  “Who’s got time?” She sat down and splayed her hands. “I loved your brother—he was larger-than-life, and so much fun, but it’s not like I’m putting him on a pedestal or something. I’ve got two kids and a hospital job working nights so I can be with them as much as possible. Time flies by and they’re more important than anything. I kind of go along for the ride. And besides, what if I picked the wrong person? Not for me. For them. Is anything really worth that risk?”

  Grant had said a similar thing, and Emily had never really thought about it from a single parent’s point of view. “Is it a trust in God thing? Or fear of making a mistake?”

  “Both, I guess, but that’s a valid fear,” Corinne told them. “The heart’s a fickle organ. I’m a trauma nurse. I know these things.”

  They shared a smile.

  “You must get lonely sometimes, don’t you?” Emily asked.

  Corinne swiped a hand to her eyes, then shrugged. “Everybody gets lonely. My time will come—I believe that. More than anything, I want my children’s futures secured. Tee and Callan are God’s gift to me, and I want to do whatever’s in my power to help them succeed. Which reminds me, the Smiths are dropping Callan off here in a little while. And Tee needs a ride home from Cassidy’s house in an hour.” She set her phone alarm. “For the moment, let’s talk nothing but weddings, smiles and joy. Dad’s cancer gave us a real heads-up. We don’t do any of this on our time...so let’s make the best use of the time we’ve got.”