“Really?” I blurt back him, and he nods.
Jesse coughs, and I look at him. “I never said a word to anyone, but the night I met Allie at DJ’s? First time I saw her, I was staring at her when the smell hit me out of nowhere.”
Jake takes a deep breath and glances at everyone. “The hospital. When I met Kore, coming out of your room,” he admits, then walks over to window where Dad was just a moment ago and takes a deep breath.
Oh my God, my mom was with me while I was hurt and lying in that hospital bed. She was there watching over me, just like Max. My breath hitches, but before I get lost in tears I stop, because Dad sits down next to me almost in a daze.
“Dad?” Nash calls out concerned, and we all watch our dad as he covers his face with his hands and his body begins to jerk with sobs.
“Dad,” I cry.
“Dad, what’s wrong?” Jesses voice begs franticly.
Dad gathers himself almost immediately. He lowers his hands and wipes his tear stained face with the heels of his palms, before he looks between us.
“The night I met Violet, I’d gone out with some buddies. I didn’t want to, but they wouldn’t stop bugging me. We went to hear a local country singer out at Floore’s Country Store. I’d stopped by the bar to order a beer, when it hit me. I whipped around to see where it was coming from. I pushed through people as I tried to follow the smell. To find her. I rounded a corner and bumped right into Violet. Almost knocking her over. I caught her before she fell though. That’s how we met.
“I remember the smell faded in an instant. Thought I’d gone crazy. Violet, being Violet, noticed that I seemed out of sorts. She took me to the bar and insisted on buying me a beer. She didn’t though. I bought her a glass of wine and we talked all night. I told her about you all and Siobhan. She told me about Chase, and how his dad took off when she told him she was pregnant. His loss, my gain,” he mutters. “She didn’t judge me for signing those papers, either,” he shares and sighs.
“Dad, she led you to her.” I smile and so does he. “She never left any of us.” After a few minutes of reflection, it hits me. Nash.
“Nash, have you smelled her?” I know there’s something going on with Raleigh, whether he wants to admit it or not. His face contorts to one of anger at my question. Whoa.
“Yeah, have you?” Jake probes, and Nash growls. Yes growls.
“Ha! He has.” Jesse bursts into deep laughter, and it breaks the tense mood.
I softly giggle, and my dad and Jake chuckle. Well, not Nash.
“Doesn’t matter,” Nash growls, again.
“Would it happen to be some blue-eyed, freckled face, beauty that mom is trying to hook you up with?” Jake asks, ignoring his remark.
“Yeah, one with long dark hair?” Jesse pokes further, humor in his question.
“It can’t happen,” Nash murmurs, and now appears dejected.
“Why?” Dad asks concerned. All the laughter and teasing has come to a halt.
“Because she’s a baby,” he exhales.
“Nash,” I respond with a stern voice, and that gets his attention. He glares at me with a frown, obviously not appreciating my tone, but Nash doesn’t scare me. I finally realize this is what’s been holding him back. I stand and stomp over to him. “Raleigh is not a baby,” I state firmly. I want him to get over this, so he and Raleigh can at least try to see if they have something, instead of them both moping around and arguing when they’re together.
“She’s almost ten years younger than me.” He straightens his back and shoulders, and a blank expression takes over his face.
“Son, Raleigh might be younger than you, but that does not make her a baby.” Dad tries to reason, so I stand back and let him try to break through. “Violet is nine years younger than me. Age has never been an issue for us.”
“Allie’s eight years younger than me, Nash. I get why you’re concerned, but I will tell you, our age gap is a non-issue. We joked about it once when we first met, and that was the end of that,” Jesse adds.
“I don’t know,” he mutters while seeming to contemplate. “What if I hurt her? I’d never mean to, but what if I do? She’s so young.”
“What if you don’t?” Jake asks. “What if someone else gets there before you do? Someone who doesn’t care about her like you do. She’ll get hurt anyway.”
Suddenly and abruptly, he prowls from the room. We all watch concerned, but Dad puts our minds at ease.
“Just give him time. He’s already fallen for her. He just has to battle it out with himself. Doesn’t make him anything other than a good man, that he’s worried about their age difference.” Dad states and we all agree.
8
Nash eventually comes back, and we don’t torture him anymore. He’s torturing himself enough. We sit around for the next little while, as my dad and brothers share their memories about mom. During their stories Abigail, Callie, Max, Nick, Allie, Kore and Ana join us, and we sift through the photos and keepsakes, sharing them all with them. Acer arrives a bit later, and sits quietly listening to us. Chase is out-of-town for the weekend and I’m so sad he’s missed all this. Soon my uncles, aunts, and Grandma, are all revealing stories they remember as well. Sadly, there aren’t very many memories from my brothers, as they were all so young when she died. Dad vows that she lived for us and loved us so much, which none of us doubt. Finally, with melancholy, he divulges that she sang lullabies and read stories to us at bedtime, and spent every moment she was alive vowing to be the mom hers wasn’t. Well, mom, you were, and we love you and thank you.
“She was beautiful,” Max mutters in awe, as we sit and sort through the photographs. I told him about smelling cookies, and what my brothers and dad told me. He didn’t doubt me or think I was crazy. On the contrary, he was happy for me. “I mean, I knew there was a strong resemblance from the photos around the house, but I didn’t really realize how much. You’re twins.”
“I know.” I’m just as astonished as he is.
9
Grandma cooks up a huge dinner of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, black-eyed peas and cornbread. All through dinner we talk about the upcoming wedding, but soon the conversation turns to memories again. This time we revisit our past summers at the lake. We’re all laughing and having such a good time, that I don’t want it to end.
After dinner and the clean-up, I head back into my grandma’s room. I take one more trip to the past as I stack the memories into piles, one for each brother and myself. I plan to purchase them all some type of keepsake box, so that they can have their things with them. I notice a few recipe cards, and pick them up and read them. I grin when see one is for sugar cookies. I take the card and go in search of Violet, to see if she’ll help me make a batch, since she’s the resident baker. When I don’t see her with everyone else, I make my way through the house in search of her. I find myself frozen as I grip the door jamb of the living room, and gaze through blurry eyes at her silhouette through the window. She’s sitting alone on the porch swing, gently swaying back and forth. My heart bottoms out in dread, as I worry we have made her feel like an outsider. I slowly make my way across the room while wiping my eyes. I collect myself as best I can, before I push open the screen door and walk onto the porch.
Violet turns and greets me softly, “Hi, sweetheart.”
“Hey,” I respond and attempt to smile back, but I know it doesn’t reach my eyes. She takes this in and her expression turns concerned.
“You okay?” she asks, her eyes searching my face. She frowns when I don’t answer, stops swaying, and pats the seat next to her. “Come here. Talk to me.”
I sit down, then side glance over at her, and see she’s watching me–waiting. “I’m sorry if we made you feel left out,” I blurt out, my voice cracking and tears of guilt fall. Violet has been so wonderful to me. I would never want her to feel alienated.
“Jaycee,” she gasps and grabs my hands. “No.” I blink back the moisture continuing to gather in my eyes and fall. “Baby, don�
�t cry. I just wanted to give you your time. She let’s go of my hands to wipe at my wet cheeks.
“Violet, I know I’ve done my mom a disservice by not talking about her. I guess I was worried it would take away from what Grandma and I have, and also you and me,” I admit, and she pulls me into a tight embrace.
“Shhh. You have me. No matter what, you have me. You will always have me,” she promises and pulls back from our hug, but stays close while I pull it together and nod that I understand her pledge. “In a perfect world, Siobhan would still be here and so would I. All of us, together, but, regrettably, life isn’t perfect,” she murmurs.
“But life’s imperfection is also its perfection,” I reply and smile. I finally comprehend that life's flaws are also what makes it beautiful. We, the McGinty’s, are rare like every other family on this earth. Like diamonds. Not one is the same, and not one is perfect, but they’re all beautiful. I gaze up the moon realizing the entire day has gone by. “That’s our family. Perfectly flawed,” I say to the night.
“It is,” Violet whispers in agreement, and I glance back at her. “I’m going to tell you something,” she says. “And I hope you believe me, because if you don’t, then I haven’t done right by you.” She locks her beautiful amber eyes, shaped the same as Abigail’s, on mine. “I love you and your brothers as much as Abigail and Chase. Just like your dad loves Chase as much as he loves you, Abigail, and your brothers. Abigail and you, Chase, Nash, Jesse and Jake? There is no difference in our hearts. You are not his, or mine. You are ours,” she asserts lovingly. She has done right by me, because this I know.
“Violet, I hope you know I love you just as much as you love me,” I reply, uncertain that she does.
A beautiful smile crosses her face as she reaches up and caresses my hair. It reminds me of the caress I felt at Marceline’s. A mother’s touch. I return her smile and hold up the card. “I found this in my mom’s things. I was wondering if you might help me make it.” I hand her the recipe card, and she glances down and studies it.
“Sugar cookies?” she says, and her jaw drops. “I was just…” Her eyes skirt the area. “I could have sworn….” she mumbles.
“Violet, did you smell cookies?” I ask with a smile. She stares at me and nods. “Well, it seems while we were all in there, Siobhan, my mom was out here with you, but I’ll let Dad explain.”
Violet returns my smile, then closes her eyes and faces the night in silence. I can only guess she's praying. Maybe saying thank you to my mom. I sit patiently, until she peeks back at me with a wobbly smile. She then leans over and kisses for forehead. “I’d love to help you,” she says softly.
10
The men are outside checking out Nick’s new motorcycle while Grandma, Aunt Savannah, Callie, Aunt Paige, Abigail, Ana, Violet and I go over my mom’s recipe for sugar cookies. Once we gather all the ingredients, we make a few batches. Over six dozen are gone, before they can cool.
“Thank you,” I tell her. On that, Violet gifts me with her most brilliant smile to date.
Nick takes Abigail for a ride, while Grandma and Callie have a sewing lesson. All the men are on the front porch having a beer, as Aunt Paige and Savannah carefully return all of my mom’s keepsakes back into the hope chest while Violet and I tidy up the kitchen.
Violet and I have retired to Grandma’s island, resting on the barstools when Aunt Savannah walks into the room smiling, with a picture and small package wrapped in tissue paper in her hand. She hands it to Violet, and she inhales a sharp breath. She hands it to me, and immediately I get choked up. Aunt Paige walks up and wraps her arm around me, holding me close.
It’s a photo of my mom and dad on their wedding day. My mom is wearing strapless sheath dress, somewhat similar to mine, that’s fitted to her curves. Her long auburn hair is down, but adorning it is a beautiful white veil. It rests delicately across the top of her head, the back flowing down past her hips. There’s a pattern of flowers on the sheer material, and I zone in on it. Magnolias. I then study my dad. He’s in a gray suit with a black shirt and silver tie. Again, very close to what Max is going to wear. Dad’s face is clean shaven, and his hair is short. They’re staring at each other like they’re the only people in the world.
Finally, my visual turns back to my mom and the veil in her hair, when Aunt Savannah hands me the package. I glance at her before setting the photo down on the island, then gently opening the package. When I see what’s inside, my heart warms. I run my finger across the sheer material, before picking it up and watching it unfold. It’s my mother’s veil. It will go perfect with my dress.
11
Everyone is still visiting when Abigail, Nick, Max and I decide it’s time to head out. I put on my gear that Max brought along when he came with Nick, and like every time, Max double checks the safety clasps and hooks. Nick bought gear for him and Abigail from the dealership too, and while Nick pulls on his jacket, Abigail stands with her jaw dropped. He’s definitely hot, sister. After Abigail gets her helmet on, Nick makes sure it’s all secured, just like Max did for me. Then they straddle their bikes, and Abigail and I hop on behind them. Nick is not a novice. He told us he rode dirt bikes and motorcycles along his property, before he even had his license.
We make our way down the highway, and the night is flawless with the stars and moon shining bright. My arms are wrapped tightly around Max, as I rest my chin on his shoulder and watch the trees and homes, now only shadows, fly by. Nick and Max ride side by side, like they’ve been riding together for years. When we finally arrive back at our home, Nick and Max grab a beer, then head back out to check out the bikes. Abigail and I sit in the rockers and watch them, but soon our conversation turns back to the wedding.
“Since you’re my maid of honor, do you have any idea what you’ll wear? Anything you choose will be perfect,” I tell her as I rock back and forth with my tiptoes, my eyes on still on Max.
“I already picked a few things. I brought them to show you but haven’t had time. Want to see now?” she asks.
“Yessss!” I reply excited.
We both head inside to my beautiful country kitchen and grab a few beers. I pull a tin bucket down from one of my cabinets, fill it with ice, then slip a few bottles in the cubes to keep them cold, while Abigail slides her ringing phone from her back pocket.
“It’s China. I’ll just be a few minutes,” she says. I nod and smile in understanding, so she strolls over to island and sits down on one of our black cushioned stools that line the large counter, and answers.
While she’s talking, I set the bucket down in my kitchen sink and glance around. This is my most favorite room in our home. The large island with vegetable sink, separates the kitchen from the family room. When I cook, I’m able to watch Max relax on our rustic brown leather sectional. A huge, round, wood cocktail ottoman sits as the centerpiece of the room. Another housewarming gift, from Uncle Brock, Aunt Paige, and Callie. Aunt Paige told me Callie was the one to pick it, so I love it even more. Callie also picked the fabulous, furry chairs with dice, that sit in Jesse and Allie’s bedroom. On top of the ottoman are our remotes, and a few coasters. An extremely-too-large flat screen, which Max bought, is mounted on the wall along with the surround sound he added. Two oversized, brown lamps, with multi-colored Tiffany style shades, sit atop the two deep oak tables that sit at each end. When Max watches his action movies with the volume up, the windows rattle, which usually has me reaching for the remote to turn it down.
“Love, we’re in the country. We’re not bothering anyone,” he always tells me.
“I’m not worried about that. I’m worried we’re going to shatter every window in the house,” I warn, at which point I usually dive for the remote, again. Not that I ever get my hands on it though, because Max is quicker than me. Sometimes a wrestling match ensues, and when that happens Max doesn’t turn the television down. No, he turns it off. Many make out sessions that began on that couch, turned into us ripping each other’s clothes off and making love.
My eyes then slide to my breakfast nook. The entire wall is windows with French doors centered in the middle, that lead to the back of our wrap around covered porch, where we have a patio set with black cushioned chairs. I walk over and run my hand along one of the chairs that sits neatly pushed in under the table, that furnishes the nook. With part of my savings from work, and the money I inherited from Grandpa, I bought a round oak table with hourglass base. Six, gray tufted, straight back chairs circle it, and a bowl of fruit sits in the middle.
In our dining room is the most expensive piece of furniture we picked–or I picked. It’s a rustic style oak, rectangular table, that seats eight, but with the two leaves added, it can almost seat fourteen. The matching hutch sits across the room on the opposite wall. When I saw it in the furniture’s showroom, I burst into tears. I knew I had to have it for us and our kids–all one million of them. For now, it will seat nearly everyone in our family, and that warms my heart. Two Victorian style, cushioned arm chairs sit at either end, with matching armless chairs on either side. I even bought six extra chairs that we keep stored in the barn. When the woman who helped us gave us the final price, I was sure Max’s head would explode. He didn’t complain though. He didn’t say a word in the store. He gave me a tight smile and took his breakdown outside. After I arranged delivery, I hurried outside and found him leaning against his black GTO, with his arms crossed and his eyes on me. To say I was worried at this point, was an understatement.
“Max...,” I began to apologize when I reached him.
“Love, don’t.” He shook his head.
“But…” I tried again.
“Jayc, hush,” he bit out on a groan.
“Kay,” I agreed softly and immediately, due to his tone.
I slid my hands in the back pockets of my blue jeans to keep from wringing them nervously, but I knew he couldn’t miss the tears gathering in my eyes. My heartbeat pounded, and my stomach turned at the thought of him being upset with me. I wanted the table, but I wanted him not to be upset even more. It was just a piece of furniture after all. I licked my lips and decided to cancel the order.
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