by Kira Barker
“Will do,” Jack fell into my words before I could tell her where to shove her tomatoes, and at his sidelong glance at me, I changed my mind.
“I’ll try. Can’t promise that it won’t look like someone butchered the onions.”
“No onion cutting for you,” Jack told me in no uncertain terms. “You probably have the skill to stitch a wound on your own hands, but let’s not stretch things, okay? You can wash and tear apart the lettuce.”
I glared at him, ready to punch him, but Simon got in between us, shoving a bag at each of us.
“And before you commit vegetable slaughter, you might as well get your own crap from the car to the house,” he told us, but not without a small smile. Rolling my eyes at him, I took my bag and Jack’s, for good measure. We’d packed lightly, but with separate bags and my purse holding all the electronic equipment no self-respecting thirty-something could do without for a two-day vacation, there was still more than enough for Jack to lug into the house behind me.
As soon as we were out of sight in the living room, I slumped down on the aforementioned couch—a couch I knew almost as well as the one in our den, and had spent entire days converting it into a fort with Jack—needing a moment to get my thoughts under control.
“Well, could have been worse,” Simon observed as he entered behind me.
“Yeah, wait until you meet the brood,” Jack replied, smirking.
“You mean Emily’s sister’s family?”
“Yup,” I agreed, wincing.
“So nice to see that whatever else you get up to, you still behave like little children in some ways,” Malory observed as she shut the door behind her, leaning against it for a second. We shared a part frustrated, part amused gaze before she gathered herself, assuming a somewhat less unnerved exterior.
“And I doubt that’s ever going to change,” Jack replied, giving his mother that especially charming smile that had provided him that extra cookie for dessert since he’d been old enough to realize how he could make women’s hearts melt.
Malory sighed theatrically as she looked at Simon. He just shrugged. “I’ve pretty much given up on them.”
“Guess I should be glad that you at least don’t suffer from unrealistic expectations?” she asked, then shook her head. “Never mind. I’m glad to have you all here. Might give us a better chance to catch up.”
Both Jack and I winced in concerted synchronicity, making Malory roll her eyes at us.
Anything either of us might have replied got cut short when the loud sound of an engine revving before it shut off drew our attention to the windows. True enough, three cars were idling at the curb behind Simon’s jeep, the first two pretty much dwarfing the already not exactly small car.
“And here we go,” I observed, watching as a horde of adults and children embarked, swarming up to the house where Emily was bustling down the stairs again, all bright and chipper.
It was funny to observe how Simon’s belligerent smile from before morphed into a frown, then further into a partly disbelieving grimace as he watched Emily’s younger brother hug her pretty much like Jack had done with Jenny before. Only that they were both above forty, easily.
“Please don’t tell me that they all have names like Billy Joe and SueAnn?” he murmured under his breath.
“Nah, not quite that bad, but if you happened to have hunting and barbecuing as your main hobbies, you’d be their best friend in a minute.”
The horror in Simon’s eyes only solidified until I couldn’t hold back a laugh anymore.
“You do know that both Erin and I know how to shoot a rifle, too?” Jack cut in, equally amused.
“Yeah, but my prom dress wasn’t bright orange with all-over camo pattern,” I cut in, grinning.
“No, it was purple and kind of skanky,” Jack replied, grabbing me around the middle and spinning me around, making me shriek—much to his mother’s slight bewilderment, but it quickly turned into a smile.
“They are not that bad,” Malory tried to intervene when Simon still looked kind of out of it. “But they might not be as sophisticated as the company you’re used to. From the big city, you know?” The last was clearly meant as a joke, and it worked, making worry leak from Simon’s features.
“I’m already used to that from these two fools,” he offered.
“Then you’ll do fine,” she assured him, affectionately touching his upper arm.
“Hey!” I protested, while Jack just snorted.
“Because you’re pinnacles of tasteful topic selection and well-thought-out argumentation,” Simon replied.
“I have no idea what you mean,” I insisted, but couldn’t hide a smile.
Malory observed our bickering with that benevolent kind of indulgence she’d always had for Jack and me when we were younger, tearing into each other.
“Oh, you’ll do fine,” she observed, and I got the sense that she was mostly referring to us in general and less to the upcoming hours. It felt insanely good to get someone’s approval, at least.
The noise level from next door further increased as the last of the brats were released from their car seats, the entire five-headed gang immediately starting to chase each other around the front lawn while the adults gathered around Emily. I only recognized her sister and brother, but the other two adolescent guys must have been her sister’s sons, and the pregnant woman in her early twenties was likely the brother’s new wife. His third, if I remembered correctly. She had a toddler in her arm who looked longingly at the other children running amok.
“Guess we shouldn’t hide here for the rest of the day, right?” I suggested, my defeated tone making Jack wince.
“We could try, but Emily might sic that band on us to drag us outside, and I’d much rather go on my own free will,” he offered.
“Then let’s do this,” I said, ready to head into battle.
We only made it halfway across the lawn before they noticed, immediate scrutiny hitting us. Or so it felt to me; maybe it was just their usual squinty look. I left it at an all-encompassing wave, Jack and Simon copying me. As Emily was busy cooing all over the toddler who was now clutched in her arms, still struggling, it fell to my dad to introduce us.
“This is Erin, my daughter. And Jack’s Malory’s kid. And Simon is… Erin’s boyfriend.”
I might have been the only one who noticed his hesitancy there, but then I had been looking for it. Leaning to Simon, I smiled fakely at him as I whispered, “Well, congratulations, here’s your reason for existing.” He took it better than I’d expected, smiling back at me as he casually slung one arm across my lower back, pulling me against his side. Jack didn’t react at all, but his usual smile looked just a hint forced.
The brood took it all with throat clearing and nodding, then prattled off their relations—I’d been mostly right, except that two of the elder children were the young woman’s, the other two belonged to the sister—and only after that did I find myself confronted with Emily’s wide-eyed, open-mouthed, no-holds-barred grin.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I’m so happy for you!” she shouted, hugging us both now.
“Surprise?” I offered, a little torn between being annoyed at my father and amused by her exuberance.
“This is such great news!” Emily continued, then stepped back, still beaming at us both. “Not that I didn’t speculate when we heard that you’d moved in with the guys, but you made it sound like it was mostly for convenience, and I didn’t want to pry—“ Which, without a doubt, she’d catch up on now. “You have to tell me everything! All the details,” she made me promise, and before I could reply, she was already flitting off toward the house, giving me no chance to destroy her good mood.
I looked after her, shaking my head slightly, then nudged Simon on to follow her.
“Want a beer? I’m sure we have some in the fridge.”
“Sounds appropriate,” he replied dryly, him and Jack trailing after me. Jack exchanged a glance with Simon, and left it at a shrug and a murmured
remark that I didn’t catch. Probably for the best.
On the way inside, we passed Jenny where she’d retreated to the shade of the porch. Now, she looked at Simon in a slightly different way, and it took me a moment to realize that she was appraising him. She was still all doe-eyed over Jack, though, both realizations making me grin—and attempt to ruffle her hair again. Seeing it coming, she evaded me, but she tagged along rather than remain to observe the younger brood tearing into each other.
I grabbed a beer for the guys and me, then briefly looked from my bottle to Jenny where she remained lurking just inside the kitchen door, trying to appear invisible.
“You can have half of mine if you tell me how much you had last night. And don’t even think about lying to me. I’m a doctor. I can judge at a glance just how worse off you are.”
She eyed the bottle, but from the way it made her look slightly ill, I figured she was way beyond that point right now.
“You’re so full of shit, you know that?” she quipped once she’d swallowed twice, her voice still a little on the weak side.
Jack sidled up to me but made sure that he kept an inch of distance between us where he leaned on the kitchen counter. “No, I can personally guarantee that she can actually tell how much you drank. From years of experience of glaring at her hungover self in the mirror the morning after.”
“Ha, ha, very funny,” I griped, then clinked my bottle against his before taking my first sip. Jenny beamed just a little brighter at him coming to her rescue, making me snort under my breath. “And how exactly can you guarantee that when, most of the time, you were so much closer to dying than I was?”
He shrugged as he drank himself. “Because I’m awesome like that.”
Jenny seemed ready to agree, but then Simon came up to me on my other side, giving her something else to focus on. “I don’t get how you can put up with my sister,” she remarked, sounding a lot like me, much to my surprise. “You’re some kind of artist, right? I know that she can’t sing, and I’ve seen her old paintings from school. She must be like the least artsy person on Earth.”
Simon shrugged, looking me over as if he’d be able to visually judge my merit. “She has other qualities,” he offered—with a smile that was way too suggestive for a talk with my little sister. I elbowed him in the ribs, which just made his grin grow, and he nudged me back. Jenny’s eyes were just a little wide as she followed our exchange, the blush on her cheeks speaking clearly of the fact that she’d understood, but she also looked satisfied that apparently someone took her seriously enough not to sugarcoat anything. I couldn’t help but feel instantly grateful. I always had such a hard time trying to censor myself around her to sound more age appropriate—clearly, that wasn’t necessary anymore. And it made me doubly glad that Simon was already building bridges with her. Emily I could ignore, but my sister? Not that easily.
Of course, Jack had to ruin the moment in his own, charming way.
“It’s not her cooking skills, that I can tell you. Or her housekeeping skills. Or her keen eye for interior decoration. Or—“
“Like anyone’s keen to hear your opinion,” I cut him off with a grin.
“I’m always keen to hear your opinion!” Jenny piped up, then blushed a lot deeper than before, biting her lip. Jack just gave her a sidelong, easy smile, while Simon raised his brows at me. I shrugged, letting him make of that what he wished. He smiled back, clearly just as amused as I that Jenny was crushing so badly on Jack. Of the people present, we were likely the ones who could sympathize the most. And feeling that kind of connection strong between us made it just a little easier to ignore that my father apparently tried to press us into a more convenient picture than we presented.
The brood then surged deeper into the house, bringing chaos with them. Emily did a good job herding everyone into different rooms, sending the men outside to get the barbecue started, while the women took over the side dish preparations. Jack was excused from cutting the onions after all, but when I tried to slink away, I was tasked with washing veggies, handing them off to Jenny to dice. She looked oddly bewildered that I didn’t attempt to take over, but once everything was dripping by the sink, I realized that being empty-handed was not a good thing, because almost immediately the still-protesting toddler was thrust at me by his mother, with a knowing, “You’d better learn how to handle ‘em, now that you’ll soon have some of your own.” Any thread of sympathy I’d harbored for her already having three kids at what I figured was at least eight years my junior, died a gruesome, immediate death, but Jenny’s bright grin at my scowl made it kind of worth it.
The baby soon started fussing in earnest, and I was only too glad to hand him off to Emily when it became clear that we weren’t on the fast track to becoming friends. Of course, he quieted down immediately, but that wasn’t much of a surprise, considering my reluctance to take him in the first place. Even small humans had enough sense to pick up on clues like that. Maybe more so than their elder counterparts.
“Look, you have to hold him like this,” Emily instructed, as if anyone—least of all me—was interested in a lecture.
I just looked back at her with a deadpan stare, trying to quell the hostility rising inside of me. Or bubbling over, more like. “You do remember that I babysat Jenny quite a lot until I went to college. And I didn’t drop her on the head more than a couple of times.”
“Hey!” the little sister in question protested and faked a feint at me with the knife. In moments like these, she really reminded me of myself. Or Jack, but according to Simon, that was often the same.
“Would you stop this? Heaven forbid, you’ll cut someone with it!” Gina—Emily’s sister—shrieked, if anything turning the harmless joke into a near-accident as Jenny jumped, startled.
“Sheesh,” Jenny murmured, then narrowed her eyes at me in sudden inquisitiveness. “Could you stitch yourself up? Like they always do in the movies, you know?”
“What kind of question is that to ask, young lady?” the old hag went on, but I ignored her.
Grinning brightly, I stole a chunk of bell pepper from Jenny’s cutting board and shrugged.
“I’m not saying it would make for a pretty scar, but it’s not unlike normal sewing. I hear, not that I’d know. Shaking from pain and the endorphins kicking in might get a little bothersome, but I’m sure that there are many war vets who can confirm that it can be done.”
Jenny looked suitably impressed, while the other females present—Malory excluded, but as a former military wife few things I could say ever drew a gasp from her—basically scowled at me.
“Well, for some people, it is better if they don’t have children,” the ex-teen mom replied haughtily and relieved her sister-in-law of her burden. The kid didn’t look too happy, but didn’t turn it up like before with me.
I knew exactly how she meant that, and for once was quite happy to treat that to the only reply it deserved—silence. Of course, just then Simon had to come back in from the yard, already looking a little harassed, only to have the young harpy have a go at him next.
“What do you say about people being incapable of even holding kids?”
He looked appropriately taken aback at what to him must seem like a non sequitur, but when the toddler was thrust at him, he took him with uncanny ease, and the kid stopped fussing completely as he stared up at Simon, transfixed. Simon offered him a forefinger to grab in his grubby little hand, actually making the baby gurgle with glee. The entire exchange was both alienating and surreal.
“Were you trying to make a point, or just trying to scare me right back outside?” he asked, only the gentlest note of amusement in his voice. I’d likely have missed it if I didn’t know him so well.
“Of course not,” the baby’s mother protested, then took her child back—who grew kind of annoyed again, making me grin.
“I think what she was trying to say was that I would make a terrible mother because the baby doesn’t like me,” I helpfully supplied.
Simo
n raised his brows, then gave me a once-over as if my status of possible motherhood was something he could measure with a glance. “I’d expect you to handle your own with a little more familiarity,” he replied when he was done. “After, you know, carrying the baby as part of your body for nine months.”
I spread my arms in the universal “what do I know?” gesture, but couldn’t help but smirk at the girl. Really, next to her, Jenny looked a lot more mature, hangover and all.
Emily took the opportunity to try to defuse the situation—or deliberately make it worse, depending on whom you asked.
“Do you want children, Simon? You’re not so young yourself anymore that the very thought of them likely still scares you.”
Contrary to my expectations, Simon didn’t give her wide, scared eyes but simply smiled. “I believe that I’m not old enough to fret about the answer to that question yet. And anyway, it would highly depend on the prospective mother’s opinion on the topic.”
It was a typical Simon answer—diplomatic but with a clear “stop pushing me” message barely hidden underneath the veneer of civility—but Gina chose to ignore it.
“You might still have time aplenty, but her clock’s ticking. Or aren’t you gonna make her your baby’s momma?”
That was where I drew the line, not even giving Simon the chance to reply.
“You can foul-mouth me all you want, but you will not attack my guest,” I told her, then—because the high road was so not my road—turned to Emily, who already looked aghast. “Maybe it’s too much to ask that you keep up the basic expectations of hospitality, after already evicting me from what is supposedly still my home? What will you scrutinize next, my hairstyle? My lack of feminine dress? Or the fact that I very likely already make more money than all of you astute ladies combined, and I’m paying your welfare checks on top of that, too? What, too crass?”