His thumb moved in time with his thrusts and he drove into her body, a smooth, choreographed rhythm that moved them both to the edge and over.
5
When Clay returned to the farm after breakfast, he found his mom in the attic. She’d pulled an antique chair over to the oriel window and was seated in front of an old steamer trunk bathed in weak sunlight.
The tears glistening in her eyes alarmed him. “What are you doing up here? Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m f-fine.” The stutter in her voice reminded him of her road to recovery after the stroke had left her weak on one side of her body.
Squatting next to her chair, he swiped a finger against the papery skin of her cheek, dashing away the tear that had slipped loose. “Mom, why are you crying?”
“After I saw how hard you w-worked yesterday to clear the stuff in the barn, I got the urge to c-clean a little myself. I thought it would be easy to start here.” She indicated the yawning chest in front of her. “I’m just being a silly old woman.”
Understanding dawned when Clay glanced at the contents of the container Seeley had opened. “Ah. That’s Dad’s trunk, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
He reached out and took the newspaper clipping from his mom’s lap. He recognized the faded article instantly. His dad’s obituary. Clay had been in grade school when Bill Mathers died in a car accident on his way back from a business trip. He’d been four measly blocks from home when a delivery driver ran a stoplight and T-boned Dad’s car. Echoes of his mother’s grief following the accident ricocheted through his mind. His dad’s death had been senseless.
“I still miss him,” he said simply. He coughed to clear the tremble in his voice. “You do, too.”
“Every day. And I feel g-guilty everyday for moving on without him. But life, like time, marches on.”
“Dad wouldn’t have wanted you to be alone, especially since you were so young w-when he died. And Tony made you happy.”
“That he did. And he understood and respected my need to be alone with my memories on three days each year. Dad’s birthday, our anniversary, and the date of his death.”
“Tony was a great man, just like my dad. I loved him like my dad.”
Mom caressed his cheek, her eyes bright with moisture. “I agonized over whether I was doing the right thing. Getting remarried. I was still in love with your dad on the day I said ‘I do’ to Tony. Now I have six days a year I have to be alone.”
Clay dropped from his squat onto his behind. He grasped her hand in his. Was Pippa still in love with Mark? God, he hoped so. Because he knew she would never, ever forget her first love. He’d never ask it of her. Mark had been there for so many of her firsts…boyfriend, lover, husband. Clay’s only hope was that he’d be her last.
Laying her hand on top of his in her lap, Mom squeezed, like she understand the path of his thoughts. “I imagine Pippa is going through something similar herself right now. But, Clay? If Mark were there with the four of you at the ceremony, I know he’d approve. No man who loves a w-woman would ever want her to remain faithful to his cold, dead memory. Pippa doesn’t talk about their marriage much to me. But Eileen has. We had coffee last week, between my physical therapy and doctors’ appointments.”
Her admission surprised him. He knew they’d gotten together a few times to discuss wedding plans, but hadn’t realized his mother had gotten that close to Pip’s mom. It made sense, though. Eileen was grape jelly to his mom’s white bread. They were better together.
He reached into the chest for Dad’s well-worn copy of Aesop’s fables. It had been their custom to read a selection from the book at bedtime. It was the kind of tradition he wanted to start with Mason and Mia. He brought the book to his nose, imagining he could still smell his dad’s cologne when he thumbed the pages.
“What did Eileen say? I mean, if I’m allowed to ask. Would it be a violation of some girl code to tell me?” He felt funny inquiring, but any insight that would add more joy to his marriage with Pippa was welcomed.
“I think Eileen would have told you herself, but she didn’t want you to think her a meddling mother-in-law.” Mom smiled sadly at him. “She loved Mark as much as she loved the children of her body. Probably more. Mark made her daughter so happy. It’s sort of how I feel about Pippa, and how much love she’s brought into your life. As mothers, we notice these things. You’ve smiled more in the past three months than you did in the past three years.”
“Being around Pip and the kids makes it easy to be happy.”
“I knew she was s-s-special before the end of my first therapy session. The day you barged into our session, and I realized you knew her, I began to pray you’d fall in love with each other. It isn’t often a mother gets to hand-pick her only son’s future spouse.”
He dropped the book into his lap and pulled out a photo album. Flipping through it, he found the picture Mom had taken the morning after his dad had replaced his Earth Day seedlings with much bigger trees. It reminded him of time spent with Pippa in her backyard when he’d done something similar for her children. “She is special. It took some convincing to get her to agree to see me. You know she tried to break if off between us.”
“W-why?”
“Fear. She was afraid she’d get too involved. She was convinced when I left, it would be because I wanted to go, not like when Mark died and had no choice in the matter. She said the heart break would be worse because of a choice I might make in the future.”
Mom huffed out a breath. She sounded exasperated, like it would have been his fault alone. And, probably, it would have been. “Well, I’m glad you convinced her otherwise.”
“Me, too.” He laughed.
“C-clay, it isn’t easy to blend families. I know this from experience. You were older when I married Tony. You understood w-what it meant. You still didn’t like it.”
Mom furrowed her brow in concentration. Their talk had gone on for a while, and she seemed to be struggling to focus on forming the words. She was tiring, but needed to say what she wanted. Clay trained his gaze on his mom, not sure where the conversation was going.
“You’re marrying Pippa and her kids, but you’ll get Mark in the b-bargain. I hope you’ll always honor his memory, and help Pip keep him alive for her children. Tony did that for you, you know.”
“And earned my undying respect. You know I’ll do what I can for Mason and Mia. And I’ll be sure any future siblings know about Mark as well.”
“Oh, babies. I haven’t dared let myself think about the possibility.”
“Pip and I have talked about it. We’d like at least one more. Maybe two.”
Putting her hands on his cheeks, she kissed his forehead, like she had when he’d been a child and they’d had heart-to-heart talks. It was a familiar, comforting gesture. “I already count myself as the twins’ grandmother, but I hope you fill this old house with several more. It’s been too quiet, too long.”
“I’ll do my best, Mom.” Clay’s laughter was lost in the sound of the grandfather clock chiming the hour in the front hall, reminding him the cleaners were due at the barn within the next thirty minutes.
“I have to go meet the cleaning crew. Are you going to be okay here? I can send one of them up to help you if you want.” He began putting his dad’s treasures back in the trunk.
She made shooing motions with her hands. “I have to do this for m-myself. I’ll be down to fix lunch around noon. I put chicken and dumplings in the crockpot before I came up here. Now, go. Leave your elderly mom to her memories.”
“You are the youngest old lady I know,” Clay teased, slipping back into the easy camaraderie he usually shared with his mother.
“And don’t you forget it. I can still dance circles around you.”
Clay barked out a laugh. “Only because I can’t dance.”
“I hope my future grandchildren inherit my sense of rhythm, not yours. And Pippa’s dimples.”
6
“Clay, are
you sure about this?” After her last appointment for the week, Pippa had stopped to check on the progress in the barn. Optimistic by nature, she struggled at the moment to hide the skepticism in her tone. It seemed a losing battle. Dust motes floated in the weak noontime light that streamed through the open barn door. The cleaners were clustered in the far corner on a lunch break. She sneezed.
Clay rubbed her wrist with his thumb. “Spitfire, I promise you, this will be so clean by the time five o’clock rolls, you’ll be tempted to eat off the floor.”
“I doubt it. It’s a dirt floor.” She didn’t want to rain on his parade, but the truck stop on the highway was beginning to look like a better option. Gripping her crutches tighter, she suppressed a shudder.
Malin snapped the wedding binder closed and faced them, leaning against the counter to survey the room. Her eyes flitted from the shop, to the barn, then to the rafters. “I think it will be perfect.”
“Thank you!” Clay said. He propped his hands on his hips. “I’m glad someone else can see the potential. Pip, I haven’t let you down so far. I won’t do anything to disappoint you. This is too important to me.”
She eyed him, then maneuvered her crutches to walk over to the wide doorway on the barn side. “I’m concerned about your mom and the floor. It’s too uneven. I’m not even sure I can handle it. And you can’t carry us both around.”
“I could if I had to, but your dad is on top of it. He’s arranged for a tent and awning company to lay a temporary floor, then carpet on top. They’re even bringing a dance floor. And look.” He pointed to a heating unit suspended from ceiling. “Scott made sure the heater works, so we’ll be warm enough.”
“Scott can’t control the weather, though,” Seeley said from her seat on the Adirondack bench. “Weatherman is calling for snow this weekend. Maybe a lot.”
“What? Can anything else go wrong?” Her heart clanged like a sour note. “How much?”
Seeley shrugged her shoulders. “Up to two feet possible, according to the experts.”
“Mom! I thought we agreed at lunch we wouldn’t mention this.” Clay scowled at Seeley, then turned pleading eyes Pip’s direction. “Don’t worry about the weather. There’s only a thirty percent chance of snow. Look outside, spitfire. The sun is shining. No way will a storm like that build up by Saturday.”
Pippa looked at the bright December sky, not finding the reassurance she desired. “That’s what they said ten years ago. Right before twenty-five inches of snow buried the city. And you know today is unusually sunny. Massachusetts is overcast most days in December.”
He walked over to where Pip stood and chucked his finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Okay, you know your weather patterns, but I know big weather events like this are rare. Where’d my Pollyanna go? It’s not like you to go to the dark side.”
Propping her elbows on the top of her crutches, she attempted to massage away the tension in her forehead. Between the fire at the resort, and now a possible snowstorm, the gods seemed to be conspiring against them. The space over the bridge of her nose stung and she blinked to clear the hot tears rushing behind her eyeballs. “Maybe we should post—”
Clay’s hand flew up, cutting her words off like unwanted limbs. “Don’t say it, Pippa. Don’t you dare. We will not let weather, or fires, or hell or high water stop this wedding. I will become your husband on Saturday.”
“Clay, you cannot honestly promise that.” Darn it, her voice quivered. She blinked hard.
“Spitfire, I…aw Pip, don’t cry.” He wrapped his strong arms around her, cuddling her close to his broad chest. His breath tickled her ear as he whispered, “We’re going to be fine. Everything will work out—you’ll see. Together we’re magic. You know that for a fact.”
Burying her face against his shoulder, she tried to quell her sense of doom. Way to be dramatic, silly cow. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a weepy mess about this. You know it isn’t like me. I just…I’m overwhelmed by everything. I hate that you have to work so hard to make this happen. You and everyone else,” she confessed in a quiet voice.
“Whoa, there.” Clay leaned away from her without relinquishing his grip on her waist and peered at her face. “Why shouldn’t I work as hard as you to get us down the aisle? I’m getting married, too.”
She gazed into his eyes. “I didn’t mean it that way, Clay. What I meant was you have deadlines from your publisher, and this is a busy time for a Christmas tree farm. The distraction of making this space ready, I’m afraid you’re losing out on seasonal sales and will be late with your edits.”
“Bah!” Seeley protested, drawing Pip’s eye. “Clay doesn’t miss deadlines. Ever. And I decided a month ago to shut down the farm two weeks before the wedding so we wouldn’t be distracted. My son is marrying the woman of his dreams. His happiness, and yours, are much more important than sales.”
“But—”
“No buts about it.” Flinty determination resonated in his words. Clay pressed his lips against hers, softening his brusque tone. He brushed his thumb over the lone tear that had leaked down her cheek and smiled. “I’m treating this like a mission. I won’t fail. I don’t know how.”
She dropped her forehead to his chest and let his calm assurance trickle past the staggering sense of too much to do, too little time to accomplish everything. She trusted Clay with her life, and if he said he’d make it work, she knew with absolute certainty, he’d keep his promise. But even he might not be able to conquer Mother Nature’s whims.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Malin join Seeley on the bench. Flipping the wedding binder open, Mal pointed to something on the page, then gestured to the ceiling at the far end of the barn. Seeley’s eyes tracked from the book to the rafters and back, a sly grin blooming on her face. Her eyes danced merrily as she leaned over to whisper into Malin’s ear. The pair of them stood, eyed the ceiling a final time, then walked out the sliding barn door, arm-in-arm.
“What are they up to, I wonder?” she muttered.
“I don’t care. We’re alone at last.” Clay tipped his head to the side, then pressed his lips firmly against hers, distracting her with a toe-curling kiss. He came up for air. “Now would be a good time to christen the barn, get our marriage off on the right start. What do you say?”
She tipped her chin toward the corner where the cleaners were on break. “You know, we aren’t completely alone. Wouldn’t want to give the cleaning crew a show. But let’s be sure to…uh, do it…before we load all the crap back in here. And when we have blankets.”
He tightened his grip on her waist and lifted her off her feet, the crutches clattering on the floor. His smile was wicked when he said, “That’s a deal I’ll take.”
After finalizing several details for the big event with Malin, Pippa spent the early afternoon shopping with her mother and Jem. They were on a mission to find ornaments for the special group of trees Pip had requested for the front of the barn as the back-drop for the ceremony. Four trees, one for each member of the new family created when they all said “I do.” Even Mason and Mia had vows to recite, uniting all of them together.
The trees had been Seeley’s idea, one Pip whole-heartedly embraced. Mason and Mia were easy, but Clay’s tree had proved more taxing. He’d told her he’d be happy with whatever she decided for him. He’d laughed when she rolled her eyes, then patted her butt as she hobbled away from him. That little swat to her behind had almost forced a four-letter word from her mouth.
Pippa leaned uncomfortably on her crutches and scanned the daunting interior of Christmas World, the warehouse wholesaler where Seeley had arranged for them to shop. She wished, for the umpteenth time, Seeley had come with them. It was selfish, but Pip could use her guidance. Good Lord, she could also use a cup of coffee, and maybe a masseuse. Her shoulders ached from propping her arms over the padded rests of the crutches. Her back and forearms weren’t any better. She squinted at her foot, resolving to demand an air cast. She was not hobbling down
the aisle with these ghastly stilts jammed into her armpits. Mia had offered to decorate them for the wedding, but even decked out in tulle and ribbons and roses, they’d still be crutches.
“Does anyone else need a cup of coffee?” She raised her voice to reach Jem and Mom at the end of the row of bins. “I need to sit for a few minutes.”
Jem glanced at her ankle and smiled sympathetically. “I’ll never say no to caffeine. There’s a shop in the back corner. Are we okay on time?”
Pip nodded. There wasn’t a pressing need for her to get home. The twins had a special project of their own to work on and they’d recruited Sam to help. He’d have them until dinner. Pip knew she shouldn’t have a favorite brother, but Sam was lead contender. She adjusted her hands on the grips and pointed her nose in the direction of the nutty ground-bean smells from the back corner. Now that she decided she needed a coffee, the aroma had tantalized her, rising above the evergreen and cinnamon scents permeating the atmosphere in the cavernous space. Her mother’s squeal of delight stopped her forward motion.
“Oh, these are perfect! Look, Pippa. Miniature motorcycles. There are even a couple Harleys in here.”
“Eileen, motorcycles are perfect,” Jem said, taking one from the basket to examine.
The clop-swish sound of the crutches as Pip made her way to them accompanied the oohs and aahs from her companions. Excited anticipation bubbled up. “Let me see.”
Mom held up a mini Fat Boy, displaying it like a trophy. Jem was right—it was perfect. There was an entire bin filled with Harleys, and underneath was another basket of pocket-sized replicas of biker accessories. Ideas started to coalesce in her mind, taking shape in the form of a multi-themed tree. This had been her problem. There wasn’t just one side to Clay. He had more facets than a waffle, and trying to pigeon-hole him into one tiny square made no sense.
A Winter Wedding: A Five Senses Short (Five Senses series) Page 4