Her Unexpected Family

by Ruth Logan Herne

  Grant swung around and gave Emily a nice big hug. “Did you hear that? He’s going to be okay!”

  “I heard.”

  “Aren’t you thrilled?” he asked, clearly pleased and relieved by the doctor’s prognosis. “I thought you’d be doing a happy dance.”

  She looked up. Met his gaze. Held it. “His mother is in town.”

  Grant nodded. “Yes.”

  “And her little boy was rushed to a hospital in the middle of the night, and you never called her, Grant.”

  He stared at her. “She left. That was her choice, not ours.”

  “But she’s his mother.” She moved to the side of the bed and brushed back a lock of hair from Tim’s forehead as she whispered her goodbye. “What if this had gone all wrong? What if Tim hadn’t made it through the night? Then would it be all right for you to deny his mother the chance to see him one last time?”

  His frown said she surprised him. Didn’t he realize that every decision, large and small, had consequences? Or did he just not care? Either way, she needed to quietly walk away from this attraction. She breathed deep and took a firm step back. “I’m heading home with Corinne. We’ll keep Dolly as long as we need to, so don’t worry a thing about her. Keep in touch, okay? Let us know how he’s doing.” Decision made, she moved toward the door.

  “Emily.”

  She didn’t turn, didn’t look back, didn’t pause.

  She couldn’t.

  How could he do that? No matter what Serenity had done, no matter that his ego got crushed and his feelings hurt, knowing she was in town and not contacting her when Tim could have died—

  Her heart clenched. Her breath caught. She couldn’t talk, couldn’t think about this now and maintain control in the vibrant-colored children’s hospital, surrounded by strangers immersed in their own dramas.

  Tim was doing better. Her heart sang with joy over that, but realizing that Grant chose anger over forgiveness wasn’t just a red flag. It was a big bold stop sign.

  Faith, forgiveness and trust were key factors in life.

  She knew that change had to come from within Grant. She saw that clearly today. She followed Corinne to her car, climbed in and let the tears fall.

  She still had a wedding to handle for him, a beautiful and well-planned celebration for Grant’s sister. She’d do it well, with a pageant-worthy smile firmly in place.

  And then she’d tiptoe out of the twins’—and Grant’s—lives and never let anyone see the ache she held inside.

  * * *

  Grant watched Emily leave and knew it was a final straw.

  Why would she think badly of him for not pulling Serenity in when Timmy got sick? It was coincidence, pure and simple, that had Serenity in the area now. Not love of family, and certainly not any regard for these wonderful children.

  Anger simmered within him. Emily didn’t understand. She’d never had anyone walk out on two babies. How could she judge him when she’d never walked a mile in his shoes?

  He was tired. She was tired. Maybe this wouldn’t seem so dire after they both got some sleep.

  He texted her a late-afternoon picture of Timmy awake, eating a freeze pop.

  Her reply was Dolly loves seeing Timmy! She sends her love!

  He texted back, Can you keep Dolly overnight?

  One word. One tiny word. Yayuh.

  Her stretched-out version of yes made him smile while his heart ached. He dozed fitfully in the chair. Images of Timmy and Dolly kept him from falling into a deep sleep. He woke up early, rubbed sleep from his eyes and went into the bathroom to wash his face.

  Solemn. Stern. Forbidding.

  He stared into the mirror.

  Was he always like this? So rigid, so sure he was right?

  The mirror told him nothing, but his conscience wasn’t as reticent. You’re foolishly stubborn in your personal life. That’s no one’s fault but your own. Why would a wonderful woman like Emily Gallagher be attracted to you? You’re gruff and grumpy.

  “Fweeze pop, pwease? Daddy, Tim have a fweeze pop, pwease?”

  Emotions rolled up inside him. Joy that Timmy was coming around, and frustration. Frustration at himself, at life, at people unwilling to do their best.

  Serenity abandoned her family, just like his father had. Grant had done no such thing. He’d stayed the course. Therefore...

  Therefore, what? No one gets a second chance in the McCarthy house? What a wretched way to live.

  “Hey!” Timmy stood, waggling his arms, delighted to see Grant. “Timmy have fweeze pop, pwease?”

  He looked down at his beloved son, and really looked this time.

  Serenity’s eyes smiled up at him from his boy’s face. Serenity’s smile, too.

  No matter how angry he was, Emily had hit the nail on the head. He should have called her when Timmy went into crisis. It was the right thing to do.

  When had he decided he had the right to command everything?

  You wanted Serenity to come back begging forgiveness, seeing the error of her ways. And when she did come back, you didn’t have the guts enough to see her. Why?

  He didn’t know, but he knew one thing. Two, actually. His boy needed a freeze pop, and he needed to man up and reach out to his ex-wife. No mother deserved to be left in the dark about life-and-death matters.

  He got Tim a freeze pop and pulled out his cell phone.

  Dead.

  He groaned.

  “You sad?” Tim reached up and touched Grant’s face with sticky, chilled fingers. “Daddy sad?”

  “Daddy’s fine, honey. Just...aggravated.”

  “I sowwy.” Timmy snuggled into him. They’d unhooked his IVs, and it was so good to see him awake, talking and smiling. His heartfelt words opened Grant’s eyes further.

  He’d been scared to death just twenty-four hours ago. Witnessing Tim’s improvement, fear had been vanquished, but he’d taken a hard look in the mirror once Emily left. The urge to fix things was strong, but he had no phone.

  Thwarted.

  He rocked Tim, watched a couple of cartoons with him and read him some stories, and when the doctor signed Tim’s release papers with stern warnings about keeping him home for a couple of weeks, Grant took it to heart. He had stored-up vacation time coming. He took it, determined to see his little guy through this, but when Emily refused to answer his calls, he knew he’d be doing it alone. And that reality cut deep.

  She wanted—no, forget that, she deserved the kind of man who went the distance. A man of honor, yes, but more than that: a man of faith. Of strength. Of forgiveness.

  Could he be that man? Was he ever that person?

  No, he realized, and the truth of that shamed him.

  But he could be that person. He should be that person. Once he got home and got Timmy settled, he picked up the phone and dialed Serenity’s number. She answered tentatively, with good reason. She knew him well and had no reason to believe he’d softened his heart. He blew out a breath and waded in. “I’ve changed my mind about meeting with you. I, um...” He paused, then said, “I shouldn’t have brushed you off, Serenity, and I’m sorry. Can we still meet?”

  “Yes.” She paused, too, then went on. “I’m back in Baltimore right now, but I’m coming your way the first of the month. Is the coffeehouse on Route 96 a good spot?”

  “Sure.”

  “Then six o’clock, on the fourth? I get in that afternoon.”

  “Six is fine.”

  “I’ll see you then. And thank you, Grant.”

  He hauled in a deep, slow breath, still torn, but wanting to do the right thing, finally. “You’re welcome.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Timmy’s recovery had made it both hard and easy to avoid Grant over the holidays, Emily realized. H
ard because she really wanted to be there, sharing this time with him and caring for Tim.

  But having Grant at home made it easier for her to step away, because Grant would be watching the kids himself.

  The change gave her time to make plans for a new life. The prospect of Manhattan lay before her, but was it really the life she wanted?

  It was the life you planned. The goal you set, the dream you had. Years of schooling, years of experience. What’s changed?

  She had, she realized as she walked home from church the first Sunday of January.

  Quiet snow lay fresh on the ground, lit by thin sun and bright blue sky. A fair number of village folks walked to church on Sundays, even midwinter.

  “Emily, good morning!”

  She waved hello to Mrs. Rucker and her aging father.

  “Good to see you, Emily!” Hi and Bertie Engle waved from the door of the Grace Haven Diner, a regular stop for them after church.

  “Emily, Tank is wondering if Mags will be free for a play date this week?”

  Old Mrs. Reinhart peered at her from her stoop. Snow still covered her walk, so Emily grabbed the shovel leaning against the small porch and proceeded to clean the snow off the elderly woman’s sidewalk. “I’ll bring Mags over today, if that’s all right. And when I do, I’ll take care of that driveway for you, Mrs. Reinhart.”

  “Oh, Emily.” Mrs. Reinhart clasped a hand to her chest. “Would you, really? My Thomas is feeling the arthritis mighty bad these days, and he’s that worried about the driveway not being done.”

  “I’ll grab Amy and Callan, and we’ll get it done in no time,” Emily promised. “I’ll hurry home and change into some proper shoveling clothes. See you soon!” She set the shovel back against the porch and started home, but something the aged woman said stuck with her.

  Thomas Reinhart had arthritis and couldn’t work the shovel.

  Emily loved clothing design and specialty looks and putting those looks together.

  Caroline Mason had worried about closing her shop because her rheumatoid arthritis had gotten bad.

  A lightbulb clicked on in her rusty brain. It lit up tiny corners of her consciousness as though laughing at her. She’d been fussing and fuming about what to do for the past two months, and God had set a possible answer in front of her weeks ago.

  Buy Caroline’s Bridal.

  Was she crazy?

  No. She was perfectly sane with a great head for fashion and a buyout account from Barrister’s Department Stores and her ex-husband.

  Could she stay here comfortably, with Grant around?

  She’d have to, she realized as she hurried up the steps to her parents’ house. In the end, it all came down to choices. His and hers.

  Did she love him?

  This time she did sigh as she let herself into the big house.

  Yes. Yes, she did. And she loved those children. The thought of losing Timmy had grabbed her by the heart the way nothing else could. But loving someone didn’t mean you should compromise your principles. Love, faith and forgiveness went hand in hand, and Emily refused to settle for anything less than God’s best.

  She called Corinne and Kimberly to have Callan and Amy meet her at the Reinharts’ driveway, and then she placed a call to Caroline Mason. And when she finally hung up the phone fifteen minutes later, Emily Gallagher had just bought herself a bridal salon.

  * * *

  Grant pulled into the strip mall parking lot just south of the thruway entrance. He stared at the well-lit café, worked his jaw, then climbed out of the car. He crossed the snowy lot and climbed the two steps when a voice called his name. “Grant.”

  He turned.

  Serenity approached him from a bland rental vehicle. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but the plain midsize sedan hadn’t entered the imaginary picture. “Serenity.”

  “Thank you for seeing me.” She studied his face, his eyes, his jaw, as if memorizing him, then stepped back for him to open the door.

  He did. He let her precede him, and when they got inside, she moved to a table far from the entrance. “Coffee?” he asked.

  She took a moment, then nodded. “Yes, please. A mocha, actually. If that’s all right?”

  Such an ordinary thing, having coffee, as if there hadn’t been years of anger and discord between them. This moving on stuff wasn’t exactly easy.

  He ordered hers, then his, and when the barista handed him the drinks, he brought them back to the table. He set them down, then took the seat opposite her. “Listen, I—”

  “Grant, I—”

  They both paused. Grant made a face. “Let me go first, because I need to apologize and I don’t have a lot of practice, a fact which needs to change.”

  “Apologize?” She sat straighter. “Why?”

  “For being an unforgiving, sanctimonious jerk who tried to keep you away from me and your children when you asked. And for not calling you when Timmy got sick in December.”

  “He got sick? Is he better? And how’s Dolly?” She leaned forward. Her coat fell open. She gathered it back around her and shivered slightly.

  “Are you that cold? We could ask them to turn up the heat.”

  She shook her head. “I get cold easy. It’s no big deal.”

  It was a big deal because she didn’t look comfortable. She looked worn and tired, now that he looked more closely. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. So. Back to the kids. Is Tim doing better?”

  “He is, but he had to stay low-key for a couple of weeks. He caught whooping cough somehow, and it turned into pneumonia.”

  “Grant, how frightening that must have been.” She looked genuinely concerned.

  “It was. I may have overreacted a little.”

  She smiled softly, and for a brief moment he was transported back a dozen years to the woman he fell in love with. “You? Who’d have thought?”

  “Anyway, he was hospitalized and I should have called you and I didn’t, and I’m sorry about that. Listen.” He leaned forward to catch her gaze. “I know the whole parenting thing wasn’t your gig. You made that clear.” He raised his shoulders slightly. “But they’re amazing and delightful and I love them. I love caring for them. And I’m sorry we stopped sharing the same dream somewhere along the way, and if one of them ever gets sick like that again, I’ll call you and let you know. Okay?”

  She didn’t look up for a long time. She blinked, not once or twice, but three times, then dashed a hand across her face.

  “You’re crying.” He grabbed a few napkins from the table dispenser and handed them over. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Remorse hit him again. No matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to manage the right steps with people lately. “Serenity, I—”

  “No.” She held up a hand, swiped the napkins to her cheeks, then faced him square. “You didn’t make me cry. Well, not just you. Life’s got a way of doing that on its own.”

  He frowned.

  “I’m sick, Grant.” She reached out and grasped both of his hands in hers. “All those newfangled ideas doctors are coming up with about how to treat cancer are going to miss me by a year or two.” She squeezed his hands. “I’m dying.”

  He couldn’t have heard her correctly. He stared, and when she gripped his hands tighter he finally found words. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nobody kids about cancer, Grant.”

  She was right.

  “I found out a few months ago. It’s ovarian, it’s already spread and I’m opting out of treatment.”

  “You’re what?” Surprise and concern claimed him. “You’re not fighting?”

  She let go of his hands and sipped her mocha. “I’m beyond fighting. I decided to savor these last few months fixing things that never should have been broken.”

 
“That’s why you came back to town.”

  She nodded slowly. “Cancer is a wake-up call. And I woke up realizing I’d become a selfish person, hung up on appearances. I didn’t like that about myself.” She ran her finger around the rim of the cup, thinking. “I decided I wanted to change what I can and I’d like to go home to God knowing you don’t hate me.”

  Him, again. Not the kids. He frowned. “I don’t hate you. And I’m moving beyond the anger at last because it’s a stupid waste of energy. But I don’t get it, Serenity.” He leaned forward when she looked up.

  “Get what?”

  “You don’t want to see the kids? Be with them? Especially when you have so little time?” It hurt him to say those words. A physical ache formed inside him, like a yawning hole.

  “They won’t remember me.” She spoke softly. “I’ve been gone, they don’t know me, they’ll never have the chance to know me. Why confuse them at this point? That seems like a grossly unfair thing to do to little children, Grant.”

  He reached out. Took her hands. Tears slipped down her cheeks, to the table below. “They won’t always be small. And when they get bigger and ask about their mother, I’d love to have some pictures of you with them to show them. Stay here awhile, Serenity. If money’s tight, I’ll cover the cost.”

  She looked embarrassed, so he knew money had become an issue.

  “I want us to part as friends.” He leaned closer to see her downturned face. “And I want our children to have a chance to know the wonderful woman who gave birth to them.”

  He let go of her hands and waited. She pulled some more napkins from the dispenser and swiped her cheeks, her eyes. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “You’ve changed, Grant.”

  He winced on purpose. “I had to change. I was being a jerk about a lot of things, and then...”

  “Then?”

  He took a long, slow draw on his coffee. “Then God started opening doors and windows, but I was typically stupid and ran around closing them all. You know that expression, can’t see the forest for the trees?”