by Marta Perry
“Mom knows better.”
“What about this new doc who’s coming to dinner today? Julie and I thought maybe—”
“No chance.” She couldn’t say the words fast enough. Mom wouldn’t have told anyone but Dad about her history with Jake, so maybe it was natural that they’d jump to that conclusion. “He’s just one of Mom’s good deeds. I think she’s hoping it will make him a little easier to get along with at the migrant clinic. He’s been driving us crazy with all his rules.”
Seth put his arm around her shoulders. “Want us to throw a scare into him? The Flanagan boys can still look pretty fierce if we want to.”
“Like you used to scare off all my boyfriends? No, thanks.” She ducked away from him, hoping he was deceived by her light tone. “If you want to know why I’m still single, just blame it on yourself. Go get the ice cream ready. And shout when you need someone to turn the handle. All the kids want a chance.”
Laughing, Seth walked toward the farmhouse. Terry tossed the football to Mandy, Ryan’s little stepdaughter. She couldn’t look at Mandy now, laughing and chattering a mile a minute, without remembering the first time she’d seen her, when Ryan had carried her out of a burning building. Mandy was one of God’s small miracles, now a part of their lives to stay.
She’d been kidding when she’d told Seth he’d scared off all her boyfriends, but there was an element of truth in that. Much as she loved her brothers, they could be a bit overwhelming. Any boy would have been wary of running afoul of Gabe, or Seth, or Ryan, or even Brendan, the cousin who’d been raised as one of them.
Not that she thought they’d try to scare Jake. Or that he’d scare if they did. But they’d always been so protective of Terry, their baby sister. She’d always known she had them to fall back on.
That should be a good thing, shouldn’t it? But on the one occasion when she’d left Suffolk to try life on her own in the big city, she’d failed.
Terry calmed an argument between Shawna and Michael, her little brother, and sent Michael running toward the paddock for a long pass. The donkey lifted his head, watching the small figure running toward him. Toby was used to their shenanigans by this time.
She didn’t want to think about that time in Philadelphia, because every time she did, it brought her right back to Jake. She glanced at her watch. He was late. Was it too much to hope that he wasn’t coming?
Michael hurtled back to her, his face red.
“Listen, guys, I think we’d better stop and have a nice cold drink, okay? It’s getting too hot to run around.”
A chorus of groans greeted her, but she shepherded them toward the table, where a thermos of lemonade and another of iced tea sat waiting, and supervised the process of pouring lemonade into paper cups.
“Let’s play another game, Aunt Terry, please?” Shawna leaned against her, wheedling. “It doesn’t have to be a running game.”
Terry dropped a kiss on Shawna’s red curls. “I have a better idea. See Grandpa sitting there relaxing? Go ask him to tell you a story.”
“Yeah, a story.” Michael ran toward Dad, lemonade sloshing in his cup, and the others followed.
Dad gave them a mock fierce frown as they interrupted his discussion with Brendan of his favorite football team’s chances, but she wasn’t fooled. There was nothing Dad liked better than a fresh audience of little kids for his stories. Only Gabe and Nolie’s one-year-old, asleep on a blanket in the shade, was still too young to understand Grandpa’s tales.
Nolie, Gabe’s wife, set a bowl of potato salad on the table. “We were going to start bringing the food out, but I guess your friend from the hospital isn’t here yet. Should we wait awhile?”
“No, let’s go ahead. Maybe he’ll be here by the time it’s ready.” And maybe he wouldn’t be.
She ought to be ashamed of herself. During worship that morning, she’d achieved a sense of peace, asking God to use her in this situation for His good ends. Now, it seemed, she was already frittering away those good intentions by hoping Jake wouldn’t show up at all. She closed her eyes for a quick prayer.
I’m sorry, Father. I mean well, You know that. I just keep getting in the way of my own prayers. Please help me to deal with Jake the way You want me to, and guide my words and my thoughts when I’m with him.
Gravel churned under car wheels. She opened her eyes. Jake’s car came up the farm lane and pulled to a stop along a row of lilac bushes. Her stomach gave a little jolt. God was giving her an immediate opportunity to test her resolve.
Jake cut the engine and sat motionless for a moment. He’d thought seriously about calling Mrs. Flanagan with an excuse, but decided that would be the coward’s way out. Any excuse he’d made would simply look as if he didn’t want to encounter Terry again after the clashes they’d had recently.
He couldn’t do that. He might wish Terry were a bit more amenable to direction, but she was a good paramedic, and she was certainly devoted to her patients. That was the bottom line—patient care. That was something Morley, the hospital administrator, didn’t seem to understand.
More to the point, he couldn’t afford to antagonize a board member like Brendan Flanagan. His position was precarious enough already without doing that. So he’d go through with this, and he’d make a good impression on the Flanagan family if it killed him.
He got out and started toward the farmhouse. This didn’t look like any working farm that he’d ever seen, not that he knew much about it. From the lane, green lawn stretched toward a white frame farmhouse with a wide, welcoming porch. Beyond was a garage whose double doors stood open, exposing what looked like some kind of obstacle course.
There was a cottage, like a smaller replica of the main house, its front door flanked with rosebushes, and a red barn whose white-fenced paddock held a few animals he couldn’t identify from this distance.
But it was the lawn that drew his attention. The scene was like a Flemish painting—people dotted across the grass, adults and children both, rustic wooden tables spread with white cloths for a picnic. Surely all those people weren’t Flanagans. He’d expected a quiet family meal with maybe eight or ten people at the most. There were at least twice that many, it seemed, and they were all staring at him.
He hadn’t felt this awkward since he’d started a new school in the eighth grade. Well, that was stupid. His confidence wasn’t so badly damaged—he could still meet a bunch of strangers and make a good impression.
Terry detached herself from the group and came toward him. In jeans and a bright yellow T-shirt, she looked younger than she did in uniform. She moved reluctantly, he suspected. He could hardly blame her. Things between them had been difficult, to say the least. She’d probably have rescinded her mother’s impulsive invitation if she could.
“Welcome to Nolie’s Ark.” If her smile was forced, it didn’t show. “Did you have any trouble finding the place?”
“Not at all. The map brought me directly here.” He’d noticed the unusual sign, with its fanciful ark loaded with all sorts of animals. “Why Nolie’s Ark?”
Terry’s dimples flashed. “Wait until we’ve shown you around. Then you’ll understand. And Nolie’s because the farm belonged to my sister-in-law before she and Gabe married. He wouldn’t let her change the name.”
“Gabe is your brother?” He had a feeling keeping everyone straight would be a job.
“The oldest. Come and meet everyone.”
He fell into step with her. “I thought this was just going to be family today. I didn’t expect such a crowd.”
Terry’s grin widened. “It is family. Sorry, I guess someone should have warned you about the size of the Flanagan clan. I’m afraid we can be a little overwhelming at first.”
“Just at first?”
She chuckled. “You might have a point.”
They’d reached the table. Apparently aware that they’d been staring at him, people began talking to each other again. He was just as happy not to be the center of attention.
Terry led him to the man at the grill loaded with sizzling hot dogs and hamburgers. “This is my brother, Gabe.”
“Your big brother,” Gabe corrected, extending his hand. “Welcome to our home.”
Tall, with dark hair and blue eyes, Gabe didn’t look much like Terry, but Jake saw a strong resemblance to Mrs. Flanagan. A handsome yellow Labrador retriever sat at Gabe’s side.
“Thanks for inviting me. I appreciate the chance to get to know a few people.” And possibly mend a few fences with a board member while I’m at it. He’d already spotted Brendan at the end of the table, bouncing a toddler on his lap.
“That’s my wife, Nolie.” Gabe nodded toward a slender blonde in a denim skirt and blue shirt, who was lifting the lid from a large casserole dish. “They’ve just put the food on, so why don’t you find a seat. Terry can introduce you around while we’re eating.” He grinned, and now Jake saw the resemblance to Terry. “That might be easier than trying to remember a whole string of names.”
Nolie clinked a glass, and the chatter slowly died out. He slid onto the end of a bench next to Terry as Pastor Brendan folded his hands. Heads bowed around the table.
“Father, You’ve given us another beautiful day to share Your bounty together, and we ask Your blessing and care for those who aren’t as fortunate as we are. We thank You for this food and the hands that prepared it. We ask Your blessings on this family and on the new friend You’ve brought into our midst today. In Jesus’s name. Amen.”
A chorus of amens sounded around the table. One of a pair of small redheads tugged at Brendan’s sleeve. “You didn’t say God bless the animals, Uncle Brendan.”
“You’re right, Michael, I didn’t.” He bowed his head again. “And bless the animals, too. Amen.” He grinned. “Let’s eat.”
Serving dishes began to fly around the table at what seemed the speed of light. Mrs. Flanagan, across from him, snatched a bowl of potato salad from her oldest son and offered it to Jake.
“Please, have some.” She gave him the sweet smile that had lured him into this family meal. “You have to fend for yourself around here or you won’t get a thing.”
“Now, Mom, we’re a little more polite than that.” Terry passed a crock of baked lima beans. “The speed just comes of having eight people around the table when we were growing up, four of them growing boys.”
“Eight?” he echoed faintly as an airborne biscuit was snatched midair by Pastor Brendan, of all people.
Terry nodded, passing a bowl of coleslaw. “My sister Mary Kate is the oldest.” She nodded to a slightly older version of herself, leaning across to fork chicken onto the plate of one of the children. “The two little redheads are hers—Shawna and Michael.”
“Which one is her husband?”
Terry’s face went somber. “Kenny died nine months ago. Liver cancer. Things went so fast I’m not sure she’s accepted it, even now.”
“That’s rough.” He caught the wave of sorrow she felt for her sister, a little startled that he responded to her emotions so quickly.
“Yes. It is.” Her gaze was fixed on the roll she was buttering. “Gabe comes next—that’s his and Nolie’s toddler, Siobhan, sitting on Brendan’s lap. They run this place.”
“As a farm?” he ventured.
She smiled. “Not quite. Nolie trains service animals and then works with disabled individuals to bring them together with the right animals. That’s how Gabe and Nolie met.”
He glanced toward the dog, lying quietly behind Gabe, brown eyes watchful. “You mean the dog—”
“Max is a seizure alert dog. Gabe’s a firefighter, injured in the line of duty. Now he helps Nolie with the animals and teaches at the fire academy.”
“Dr. Landsdowne, glad to meet you.” The bluff, hearty man who sat next to Siobhan Flanagan must be Terry’s father. Clearly, that was where she’d gotten the red hair and freckles, although her father’s hair was turning white. “I’m Joe Flanagan. Theresa’s falling down on the introductions.”
Jake reached across to shake hands. “A pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“I’m just trying to introduce Jake slowly—” Terry stopped, flushing. “I mean, Dr. Landsdowne.”
“I think it better be Jake when we’re not on the job, don’t you?” he said easily.
“Jake.” Joe’s handshake was firm. “Terry, the man’s a doctor. I’m sure he can keep a few names straight.” He nodded toward the other side of the long table. “That’s Seth, our next son, with his wife, Julie. Little Davy belongs to them. And you know Brendan.”
“I met him through the hospital board. Isn’t he Terry’s cousin?”
“My brother’s boy. We raised him after his parents died. His wife, Claire, is an old friend of Nolie’s. Then comes Theresa, and Ryan is the youngest, though he and Terry are so close in age they’ve always been like twins. That’s him, with his wife, Laura, and their daughter, Mandy.”
The names swam around in his mind. Maybe Terry’s method would have been better. He turned toward her, but Gabe’s little girl had toddled over to her, and she scooped the baby up in her arms.
“This is little Siobhan.” She nuzzled the soft blond curls on the baby’s neck. “She’s our latest addition. Isn’t she beautiful?”
She smiled at him, face glowing with love for her tiny niece. It was like leaning near a warm fire on a cold night, and the urge to draw closer surprised and cautioned him with its strength.
“Beautiful,” he agreed. Joe had turned away to talk to someone else. “You really are all following your father’s footsteps. I suppose he expected that.”
“Oh, I guess he’d have been proud of us, no matter what we wanted to do. It just runs in the family.”
The way being a doctor ran in his family, but it wasn’t as if he and his sister had had a choice. The Flanagan kids apparently felt they did, but chose it anyway.
Otherwise, the Flanagan crew was as different from his family as it was possible to be. He couldn’t imagine this babble of cheerful noise at any Landsdowne family gathering, and his sister’s children would be tidied away long before the adults sat down at a linen-covered table for a meal prepared by the cook and a little civil conversation.
“Do you do this sort of thing often? Get together with the whole family, I mean.” He gestured at the crowded table.
“Every Sunday,” Terry said. Her eyes narrowed. “I suppose that sounds odd to you.”
“Well, it—” It did sound odd, at least in his experience, for grown children to be so close to their parents, but he could hardly say so. “You seem to depend on each other a great deal.”
“What’s wrong with that?” The snap in Terry’s voice told him she’d taken offense. “We’re a family. Naturally we stick together. Or don’t you think that’s natural?”
Why on earth did she have to take offense at everything he said? He’d come here to mend fences, not start a war. “I didn’t mean—” he began calmly, but Mrs. Flanagan stood up and caught Terry’s hand.
“Terry, come along and help me with the dessert. You can finish your conversation later.” She practically dragged Terry away from the table.
Wise woman. She’d seen trouble coming and headed it off, but he’d still somehow have to convince Terry that he hadn’t been criticizing. She seemed constantly ready to think the worst of him. Of course, she’d say she had good reason for that.
“Keep you hand flat, Mandy.” Terry put a carrot on her small niece’s palm. “You don’t want Toby to think your fingers are carrots, do you?”
Mandy giggled, stretching her arm through the paddock rails toward the gray donkey. Toby, used to children, waited patiently until her hand uncurled, and then delicately took the carrot.
“It tickles,” Mandy declared. “I love Toby, Aunt Terry.”
“I love Toby, too.” She gave Mandy a quick squeeze.
“Who is Toby?” The voice came from behind her. “Your boyfriend?”
Mandy and Michael both started to giggle, giving h
er time to tamp down her irritation and plant a smile on her face before she turned toward Jake. Really, couldn’t the man see that she didn’t especially want to spend her day off with him?
“Toby’s the donkey,” Michael explained, recovering first. “Aunt Terry doesn’t have a boyfriend. She’s a paramedic.”
“I don’t think the two are mutually exclusive, are they?”
“Michael thinks so.” She ruffled Michael’s curls, as red as her own. “He’s almost seven, so he knows all about it.”
Jake leaned over the fence to pat the donkey, listening to the children prattle on about how smart and how sweet he was, and giving her time to catch her breath. Had she overreacted to Jake’s comment about the family? Possibly, but she was rather sensitive to the topic of being dependent on her family. He’d hit a sore point without even knowing it.
And probably he’d meant the comment to be just as condescending as she’d taken it. She didn’t know what a family like the Landsdownes did together—sat around and talked about complicated surgical procedures, maybe. They probably didn’t feed carrots to donkeys, as Jake was doing right now under Mandy’s careful tutelage.
“Keep your hand flat,” Mandy cautioned, parroting Terry’s words to her as she straightened out his long, gifted fingers with her small hand. “You don’t want Toby to think your finger is a carrot.”
“Certainly not,” he agreed. He tilted his head, smiling at Terry as the donkey nibbled the carrot.
She could only hope her face didn’t express what she was feeling. She was so accustomed to a frown when Jake looked at her that the easy, relaxed smile knocked her back on her heels. The man had charm when he bothered to use it, which wasn’t very often, at least with her.
“Hey, Michael and Mandy!” Gabe shouted from the porch. “Come quick if you want a turn with the ice cream.”
The two bolted for the porch, not bothering to say a word.
Jake dusted off his hands. “Guess we know where we stand in the scheme of things. Somewhere below ice cream.”