The Christmas Bouquet

by Sherryl Woods

  “I’m going to talk to Trace and Grandpa Mick in the morning.” She sighed heavily. “I’m really not looking forward to that.”

  “I’m still willing to hop in the car and drive down there to be with you when you tell them. I can take the heat.”

  “And I appreciate that,” she said. “But I need to be the one to break the news. Once I see how that goes, I thought maybe you could come down on Sunday. We have this big family dinner at Grandpa Mick’s every week. Remember, I’ve told you about that.”

  Noah, whose own family was small and apparently very sedate by comparison, had envied the chaotic meals she’d described. “I remember.”

  “It’s a bit of a mob scene, but you know what they say about there being safety in numbers. I doubt even my grandfather would do anything crazy with that many witnesses.”

  “Gee, you make it sound like a fun time,” he said. “But if you want me there, I’m game.” He was, in fact, surprisingly eager to take this next step. He sensed that despite Cait’s fears, he’d have allies there.

  “I’ll call you once I’ve seen them tomorrow and we can decide what’s best,” she promised. “Now tell me about what’s going on at the hospital. Did you work tonight?”

  “I did, though my mind kept wandering. Jill called me on it. I was abrupt with poor Mr. Simpson,” he confessed. “He was just looking for more reassurance that he’d be okay and able to go back to work once the worst of his injuries from the accident heal, but I snapped at him.”

  “I can’t believe you were short with anyone,” Cait said, sounding shocked. “You never lose your temper with the patients, no matter how many times they ask the same questions.”

  “I apologized.” He recalled that uncomfortable conversation. It was one he hoped never to have to repeat. “Do you know what he told me?”

  “What?”

  “That for the first time it made him realize I was only human, too.”

  Cait laughed. “Could be a lesson in there for all of us,” she said. “Not that I recommend losing your cool on a regular basis, but we need to remember we’re not gods and the patients need to know that, too. Aren’t you the one who’s always preached that we need to connect with them as real people?”

  “And I do believe that,” Noah confirmed. “Tell me about Chesapeake Shores. What’s it like this time of year?”

  “I was pretty distracted as I drove into town, but the weather’s nice. Mom and I took a walk along the bay after dinner, then went for coffee. Decaf,” she added quickly.

  “Good for you. I know how you love your caffeine.”

  “Way too much,” she conceded. “Maybe this is one sacrifice that will stick with me and I’ll stop craving it to get through those long days at work.”

  “Describe the town for me again,” he said. He’d never tired of hearing about it. He’d grown up in the middle of a blighted urban area that had made him long for a more peaceful and serene setting.

  “The daffodils are fading on the town green,” she reported. “But the tulips will be in full bloom soon. And the little patch of lily of the valley at the house smells wonderful. That was Grandma Megan’s favorite flower, so Mom and all of her siblings have planted it by their front walks. They say back then it reminded them of her when she was away for so long and they never want to forget how much they missed her and how grateful they’ve come to be that she’s back in their lives.”

  Noah was familiar with the story of how her grandmother had walked out on her workaholic grandfather, a famed architect and urban planner. She’d left behind five children, convinced by Mick O’Brien they’d be better off growing up right in Chesapeake Shores, a town he and his brothers had built along the shores of the Chesapeake Bay. While she’d left with the best of intentions for her family, it had caused a serious rift with her children that had only recently healed. Now Mick and Megan had patched up their differences, as well, and were far more happily remarried. It was proof, he thought, that with true love there was always reason to hope.

  “I can’t wait to see this town that’s so special to you,” he told Cait. “And to meet your family.”

  “You’re going to love it here,” she said. “It’s an idyllic setting and a great community.” She yawned sleepily. “I’m beat. You must be, too. I’ll give you a call tomorrow and we’ll decide on a plan for Sunday, okay?” She hesitated, then added, “Or I’ll warn you if it would be wise to leave the country.”

  Noah laughed, though he could tell she wasn’t entirely kidding. “I’ll wait to hear from you,” he said. “I love you, Cait.”

  “Love you, too. Good night, Noah.”

  Even after she’d disconnected the call, he held tightly to the phone, reluctant to sever the connection himself. Cait had definitely sounded more upbeat than she had before heading home. He counted on that being a promising start for this new journey.

  Maybe by Sunday they’d have a real strategy for the future that would work for both of them. He’d certainly been putting the pieces of his own plan together in his head ever since he’d discovered that Cait was pregnant. And once she’d calmed down, he knew she was more than likely to have her own very specific ideas. Somewhere in there, he hoped, was exactly the right compromise.

  * * *

  Caitlyn lingered at the kitchen table, pushing French toast around on her plate.

  “You need to eat that,” her mother scolded.

  “I know, but I can’t seem to swallow.” She met her mother’s worried gaze. “Thanks for making it, though.”

  “Even I can dip bread into eggs and manage not to burn it,” Abby said. “Enough butter and maple syrup and nobody ever notices that’s all it is—bread, eggs and a little milk. Trace acts as if I’ve taken breakfast to a whole new level of culinary achievement.”

  Caitlyn chuckled. “In his view, maybe you have. This is an improvement over cold cereal, frozen waffles or even scrambled eggs.”

  “You and Carrie survived on that, didn’t you?” her mom retorted.

  “Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the extra effort that went into this.”

  “If you appreciate it so much, finish it,” Abby prodded.

  Caitlyn shook her head and pushed away the plate.

  “Okay, then, you might as well get your big announcement over with. Trace is already in his office working. I can call Dad and get him over here, so you can speak to both of them at the same time.”

  “It would be easier to break the news just one time,” Caitlyn agreed. “Maybe they can prop each other up as the shock settles in.”

  “Or I can stand just outside the door with smelling salts,” her mom suggested.

  Caitlyn laughed despite herself. “Probably an even better idea, especially for Grandpa Mick. Maybe you should ask Grandma Megan to come over here, too. She can usually calm him down.”

  Abby gave her a wry look. “But it’s Nell who’s able to peel him off the ceiling when he’s about to lose it.”

  Caitlyn thought of Nell’s soothing influence on all of them and nodded. “Fine. Call her, too. Though I hate to imagine what they’re going to think when you summon them over here first thing on a Saturday morning and they see me.”

  “They’re going to be delighted to get a glimpse of you,” Abby assured her.

  “That won’t last,” Caitlyn predicted. “I’d better go and pull myself together. Let me know when the cast has been assembled for the big reveal.”

  Her mom gave her an amused look. “Your aunt Bree, the playwright, will be thrilled you’ve inherited her sense of drama.”

  “Don’t even mention her to me. It’s that bouquet she made for Jenny’s wedding that I blame for all of this,” she said as she left the kitchen and headed to her room.

  Far too quickly she heard a tap on her door and her mother announced that her grandparent
s and Nell were in Trace’s office. Abby walked downstairs with Caitlyn.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me with you for moral support?” she asked.

  Caitlyn shook her head. “Too bad I can’t drink. I could use a stiff shot of something about now.”

  “It’s going to be okay,” Abby reassured her. “Just remember that they all love you. And once they’re past the shock, they’ll agree with me that this is great news. I’m counting on them to help me convince you that it doesn’t have to derail your life.”

  Caitlyn opened the door to Trace’s spacious home office with its tall windows letting in lots of morning sunshine. When they’d all moved in years ago, she and Carrie had spent hours in this room playing as Trace worked. Taking a huge breath, she stepped inside.

  “Well, look who’s here,” her grandfather boomed, enveloping her in an exuberant hug. “My favorite granddaughter.” Mick leaned close to whisper, “Don’t tell the others.”

  It was a familiar refrain, one repeated with every single grandchild at one point or another. They were all Mick’s favorites to hear him tell it, and they grew up believing it and counting on that exuberant and unconditional love, even as they chafed at his well-meant interference in their lives.

  Caitlyn crossed the room to kiss her grandmother, then sat down next to Nell and reached for her hand. That garden-roughened hand had soothed away many hurts over the years. It was a shock to realize how frail it felt in Caitlyn’s grasp.

  “You okay?” Nell asked, regarding her with worry. “I know perfectly well we’re not here just so you can say hello.”

  “If only that were the reason,” Caitlyn told her with a heartfelt sigh. She looked across the room at her stepfather. Trace had been such a powerful force in her life. He’d been present in ways her biological father never had been, not just physically present, but emotionally supportive, too. She could recall the candy he’d brought to her and Carrie from Ethel’s Emporium, the trips into town for ice cream and pizza as he’d wooed them as determinedly as he’d tried to win back her mother’s affections. Theirs was just one more story that proved true love really could have a second chance.

  “What’s up, kiddo?” Trace asked quietly, his gaze steady and expectant. It was evident he knew something was up.

  Holding tight to Nell’s hand, she began, “I thought you all should know that I’ve been seeing someone.”

  Her grandfather frowned. “You’ll need to define just what that means. I thought you didn’t have time for dating?”

  Caitlyn smiled at the claim she’d made so many times over the years. “To be honest, it’s a little more than dating,” she confessed.

  Now Trace’s shoulders visibly stiffened. “Meaning?”

  “It’s serious,” she told him, looking directly into his eyes. She sucked in a deep breath, then blurted, “We’re going to have a baby.”

  The commotion that ensued wasn’t entirely unexpected. Grandpa Mick immediately started blustering about going after the man responsible. Trace seconded him, even as Nell and Grandma Megan were circling the wagons around her, beaming. Her mom, who’d clearly been listening at the door, came into the room and poked Grandpa Mick in the chest.

  “Sit down,” she commanded, then went to sit on the edge of Trace’s desk, her gaze all but daring him to make a fuss.

  To Caitlyn’s shock, her grandfather fell silent and Trace sat back and closed his eyes, clearly gathering his composure. They looked shaken, but no more so than she’d expected.

  “Tell them about Noah,” her mom suggested, then added meaningfully, “He sounds like a wonderful man to me.”

  “You knew about this?” Trace asked, regarding her with a hint of hurt in his voice.

  “Only since last night,” Abby told him. “I would have said something then, but Caitlyn wanted to tell you all herself. I had to respect her decision.”

  “Well, personally, I couldn’t be happier to hear that we’ll have another baby to celebrate,” Nell said, giving her son and Trace a defiant look.

  “Of course we’ll be celebrating this gift, Ma,” Mick responded impatiently. His scowl deepened. “But I want to know what this young man intends to do to make things right. Have you set a wedding date?”

  Caitlyn shook her head. “We’ve barely had time to absorb the news. We haven’t made any plans yet. There’s a lot to consider.”

  “There’s only one thing I can think of,” her grandfather contradicted. “Whether the church is available.”

  “Mick, let the girl talk,” Grandma Megan said quietly, then faced Caitlyn. “Sweetheart, have you discussed marriage?”

  “It’s on the table,” Caitlyn acknowledged, reluctant to make the admission because of the pressure that was bound to follow for her to say yes.

  “Well, of course it is,” Trace said, proving her point. “It’s the right thing to do.”

  Her mom frowned at him.

  “I’m just saying,” he said defensively.

  “Caitlyn’s decision,” Abby reminded him.

  “And Noah’s,” Caitlyn added. “I’ve thought of inviting him to join us for dinner tomorrow, but I won’t do it unless you all promise to treat him decently.” She looked directly at her grandfather and then at Trace as she said it. “I want all of you to get to know him, but I don’t want any pressure about wedding dates.”

  “They’ll be on their best behavior,” Nell assured her before glancing sharply at both men. “Won’t you?”

  Silence fell.

  “Won’t you?” Nell repeated.

  Trace sighed. “Of course.”

  Mick’s scowl settled in. “I reserve the right to say whatever I please in my own home.”

  Megan lifted a brow. “Do you want to meet this young man of Caitlyn’s or not? You’ll guarantee politeness or the rest of us will be having dinner at Brady’s without you.”

  Caitlyn choked back a laugh at Grandpa Mick’s stunned expression. “Maybe that would be best,” she said innocently.

  “Over my dead body!” Grandpa Mick blustered. “Okay, okay, I’ll promise to keep a civil tongue in my head, but if I don’t like what I’m hearing, none of you can hold me to that.”

  That wasn’t quite the assurance that Caitlyn would have preferred, but it was more than she’d anticipated. She crossed the room to give him a fierce hug. “Thank you.”

  When she looked into his eyes, she saw they were damp with tears.

  “You love this man?” he asked, his tone quieter and far more reasonable.

  “I do.”

  “Then we’ll start from there,” he said. “Everything else can be worked out.”

  Caitlyn wished she were as confident of that, but knowing that her family was on her side was a huge relief. It already felt as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

  “I think we’ve had enough surprises for one morning,” Nell said. “Sweetheart, why don’t you come back to my cottage with me? You can help me make a big pot of Irish stew for tomorrow’s lunch.”

  “I’d love that,” Caitlyn said eagerly.

  And it wasn’t just because it meant she could escape from this room before either her grandfather or Trace could go back on their word and start asking questions she was nowhere near ready to answer. It had just as much to do with the soothing effect of being around Nell, and maybe finally learning to cook a favorite Irish meal that would be edible.

  * * *

  “Okay, now that they’re gone, what are we going to do about this?” Mick asked his son-in-law.

  Trace gave him a startled look. “I was under the impression that we’ve been given clear marching orders. We’re to be nice and keep our mouths shut.”

  “Oh, balderdash!” Mick retorted. “Have you ever known me to sit back and wait to see what happens?”

/>   Trace smiled. “And how has that worked out for you?”

  “Perfectly fine,” Mick replied at once, then sighed. “Mostly.”

  Trace gave him a rueful look. “It’s those exceptions that worry me.”

  “But you agree with me that Caitlyn and this man need to get married as soon as possible?” he pressed.

  “Not necessarily,” Trace said.

  Mick was startled by Trace’s apparent indecision. “You don’t agree? What kind of father doesn’t want to see his daughter married to the man who got her pregnant?”

  “Stepfather,” Trace corrected.

  Mick rolled his eyes. “We both know you’ve been more of a father to that girl than Wes Winters ever was. Why are you hesitating about doing what we both know is right?”

  “Because this is Caitlyn’s decision. If she has second thoughts about marrying this man, maybe there’s a reason for that. I think we need to meet him and then decide on the best course of action.”

  Mick took his son-in-law’s suggestion under advisement. “You could be right,” he admitted eventually. “We’ll know more tomorrow, then first thing Monday we can get busy making plans. Maybe I’ll call the priest this afternoon just to get the ball rolling.”

  Trace laughed. “So much for waiting until we know more.”

  Mick waved off his sarcasm. “Oh, we both know that Caitlyn’s smart as a whip. If she’s involved with this man, then we’re going to approve of him, too.”

  “Probably so,” Trace conceded.

  Mick nodded, satisfied. “Then we have a plan.”

  “Well, at least you do,” Trace said. “I just hope it doesn’t blow up in your face.”

  “Now, why would it do that?” Mick asked, bewildered.

  “Because you seem to be forgetting one thing. Caitlyn is your granddaughter. She has a mind of her own.”

  Now it was Mick’s turn to sigh. That was, indeed, a little worrisome.

  * * *

  In the kitchen of Nell’s cozy cottage overlooking the bay, a fire had been lit to take off the morning chill. Dillon O’Malley was waiting for them, the water already hot for tea.