A Wedding in Apple Grove

by C. H. Admirand

  Dan hesitated, but his aunt was waiting expectantly, so he stood up and smiled. “Hi, I’m Dan Eagan. I’m the new phys ed teacher at the high school. I’m taking over for Coach Creed, who I hear is on the road to recovery, thank goodness for that.”

  Reverend Smith’s amen was echoed by the entire church.

  When the service was over, Aunt Trudi leaned toward him and said, “I’m serving during coffee hour. I hope you don’t mind staying.”

  He had hoped to have a minute to speak to Meg after church, not get roped into staying for the entire coffee hour, but he wasn’t going to put a damper on things for his aunt. She’d gone to so much trouble helping him find and land the job in Apple Grove. He owed her a great deal and would make sure he did all he could for her, even if he had to stick around and make small talk when he could be unpacking the rest of his boxes.

  Drawing in a deep breath, he followed Aunt Trudi down the aisle and into the wide room at the back of the church. There were two long folding tables, one set up with the coffee urn, milk, sugar, and mugs, and the other with sweets: donuts, coffee cake, and, his favorite, a sugar-glazed pecan ring. Everything appeared to be homemade—too bad; he really loved Entenmann’s cakes. He hoped they carried his favorite brand in Apple Grove.

  “Come on over here and help pass out the coffee, Daniel.”

  Thus summoned, he made his way to the coffee urn and started passing out the mugs his aunt filled with fresh, hot, fragrant coffee. Dan recognized a few faces from the wedding.

  “Hi, Bob.” He passed a steaming mug to Bob Stuart. “What time is the race on today?”

  Bob grinned. “It’s an early one, since it’s on the East Coast. Things are heating up with the chase in full gear.”

  Dan agreed. “I can’t believe there are only a handful of races left.”

  “Sounds like you’re a fan.”

  “I used to watch the race with my dad, but now it’ll have to wait until I go back home for a visit during the school break in the spring.”

  “You’re welcome to come on over and watch the race with me anytime.”

  “Thanks, Bob. I didn’t get much unpacking done yesterday, so I’m going to have to get it all done today. How about a rain check?”

  “No problem.”

  “Dan Eagan,” Mrs. Parrish smiled warmly.

  It was easy to return her warm smile as he handed her a cup of coffee. “How are you today?”

  “Missing our Edie,” Mr. Parrish said as Dan handed him the cup his aunt just poured.

  “You have your children with you for so many years,” Mrs. Parrish said. “Sometimes they drive you crazy and you can’t wait for them to grow up and move out—and then they do!”

  Dan’s mom had said something along those lines when he’d told them of his plans to move to Ohio. Even though he’d moved out of his family home a few years back, this was much farther away. “My mom was sorry to see me move out here but understood that it was important to me to make the leap.”

  “Parents will do just about anything for their kids,” Joe Mulcahy said, walking over with Mrs. Murphy close to his side.

  “Good morning, Joe, Mrs. Murphy.”

  The widow smiled. “Please, call me Mary.”

  He handed her a mug. “Mary. Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

  Mary Murphy looked up at Joe and smiled, a soft sweet smile that had Dan suspecting they were a couple, even though no one seemed to refer to them as such. “It surely is. How was your first night in your new home?”

  “I still need to unpack, but I really love the house. There’s just something about it… it’s hard to describe… it’s like it has a character all its own.”

  “I believe that houses absorb the personalities of those who have lived in it. The older the house, the more interesting it is.”

  Dan looked at his aunt and nodded. “That’s it exactly, Aunt Trudi.”

  She smiled and poured another cup. “Well, hello, Megan dear.”

  “Hi, Miss Trudi.”

  Megan was every bit as entrancing as she’d been the day before. Her auburn hair was loose today and fell in a silky curtain past her shoulders.

  “Hi, Dan.” Meg’s smile lit her face. She scrunched her nose so that he had no choice but to notice her freckles.

  He cleared his throat and returned the greeting. “How are you today?”

  “I’m great. The sun is shining, the wind is soft, and there’s a hint of fall in the air.” Their fingers brushed and the zing of electricity had his gaze locking on hers. He knew she’d felt the sparking sensation too.

  She licked her lips, stared at his mouth, and said, “Thanks, Dan.”

  ***

  Meg’s skin tingled from the tips of her fingers to the soles of her feet and all because of that brief brush of skin to skin. Her stomach had an odd fluttering and she felt light-headed. Who knew that his hands would cause her body to go haywire?

  “Did you sleep well?” Now why did she ask him something like that?

  His gorgeous gray eyes focused on hers. “Not really—strange house and so quiet.”

  She wondered if he realized that he was staring at her mouth. Storm-gray eyes filled with emotions she recognized because they were sprinting through her own system—interest, desire, and need.

  “Give it a couple of days and you’ll feel right at home.”

  It was hard not to be captivated by the cleft in his chin and the strong line of his jaw, but she focused on his face and not his mouth, his smile and not his lips. It wasn’t easy. She finally asked as casually as she could, “What are you going to be doing the rest of today?”

  He handed out one of the last few mugs of coffee and brushed his hands on the thighs of his jeans.

  “I was hoping he’d be staying for lunch after church,” Aunt Trudi said.

  “Oh, well I…” Dan looked down at his aunt and then back at Meg, and Meg could see the wheels turning inside his head and knew he’d be accepting his aunt’s invitation, no matter what else he had planned today.

  “That would be great. Let me help clean up and I’ll drive you home.”

  A warmth spread from the vicinity of Meg’s heart all the way down to her toes. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around town, Dan.”

  “Meg, wait—”

  She felt the heat from Dan’s hand as it enveloped hers. Staring down, she noticed his was twice the size of hers and shades darker, as if he spent a lot of time outside. Because of the way she made her living, working for her family’s handyman company, hands were important. Her father, grandfather, and great-grandfather all had wide-palmed, long-fingered hands that could finesse just about everything.

  “Can I see you later tonight?”

  Her throat went dry and her tongue got stuck to the roof of her mouth. Finally, she summoned up enough spit to loosen her tongue. “I’m not sure—”

  Peggy McCormack chose that moment to join their conversation. “Hey, Meg, are you still coming to take a look at the backup stove at the diner?”

  “Yeah,” Katie said, coming to stand beside her sister. “We’re worried that we won’t be able to handle all of the baking for the diner without it.”

  Dan released her hand, and she sighed and looked at the McCormacks. “Sorry, I had forgotten, but I won’t let you down. I’ll be there and see what we can do to keep you running at full speed. Aside from Sunday afternoons, Monday’s your busiest day.”

  “You’re the best, Meg!” Peggy said.

  Meg wished she didn’t feel so guilty about wanting to forego the repair and head on over to Dan’s house to distract him with another heart-pumping lip-lock… maybe a make-out session. Jeez, now she was thinking like a hormonal teenager.

  Dan put his hands in his front pockets and the regret in his gaze was echoed in hers. �
��Well, maybe I’ll catch up to you tomorrow.”

  “Sounds great, Dan.” Meg looked from one sister to the other. “See you.”

  “Are you coming, Daniel?”

  He grinned down at Meg and called out, “Right behind you, Aunt Trudi.”

  ***

  Monday morning at half past seven, Meg and her sisters were already at the shop. When the phone rang, Meg glanced at the clock, put it on speaker, and answered it. “Mulcahy’s Funeral Home, you plug ’em, we plant ’em.” Meg smiled, held the phone away from her ear, and waited for the fireworks.

  “Megan Maureen Mulcahy!” her father shouted into the phone. “I told you no shenanigans when answering the telephone! Besides,” he grumbled, not quite as loudly, “it’s bad for business.”

  She smiled at her sisters, who were both trying not to laugh—their dad would hear them and reprimand them for acting like hooligans. With the press of a button, she turned the speaker off so she didn’t get her sisters in trouble. She looked from one to the other and felt a burst of familial pride fill her.

  Caitlin was dressed for another day at Mulcahy’s in jeans and a black polo shirt with their logo on the breast pocket. Her sister wore her jeans snug at the hip and thigh. Meg preferred the looser fit of carpenter jeans and had taken to wearing a chambray work shirt a size larger than she needed; that way she could move without feeling restricted when she worked.

  Grace, on the other hand, looked like a picture out of a fashion magazine in taupe slacks and silky blouse the color of a summer sky. Meg couldn’t help but wonder how much longer they’d be able to convince the youngest of the bunch to stay on in Apple Grove. The big city beckoned to Grace in a way it never had to Meg.

  “Are you listening, Megan?”

  “Uh… yes, Pop.” While he listed all the reasons why she shouldn’t fool around on the phone, she rolled her eyes.

  Caitlin shook her head and walked past their father’s massive oak desk, giving Meg a thumbs up. Before she made it to the door marked “employees only” at the back of their hole-in-the-wall office, Grace passed her a steaming mug of fresh-brewed coffee. Caitlin smiled and sipped from her mug before opening the door and heading to the storage area at the back of their shop. Meg knew her sister was going to be gathering the tools she’d need for the day. Meg would be doing the same thing as soon as she could get her dad to stop talking.

  When Grace handed Meg her cup, Meg mouthed to please pick up the phone, but it was her sister’s turn to roll her eyes. It had been their silent way of communicating whenever one of them was on the phone with their father, who would undoubtedly be telling them what to do, when, and how.

  Grace held up her hands and walked through the same door Caitlin had. Their office on Main Street was set up shotgun style with the office at the front and their tiny kitchen behind the door at the back. Passing through the kitchen there was another door leading to the nuts and bolts of the shop, their storage area, and the parking lot.

  Meg listened as her father continued to remind her of their family’s reputation in Apple Grove until Meg had a chance to tell him, “I’m sorry, Pop, I just can’t seem to help myself.”

  His sigh of acceptance was loud and low. “Why did the Lord decide to bless me with daughters? I could have had strong, strapping sons and handed the business your great-grandfather toiled to build with his own two hands over to someone who would appreciate what they’d been given.”

  Alone in the office, Meg waited a moment before speaking; she wanted to make sure her father was finished with his morning lecture. Ever since he’d retired six months ago, he called at the same time every morning, and she answered the phone the same way, every morning. It never failed to rile him or have her smiling when she went off to the first call of the day. “Now, Pop, you know we love you and have worked just as hard as any angel of a brother would.”

  As if he sensed that she needed it, Joseph Mulcahy soothed, “I know, Meggie, it’s my temper talking. A father couldn’t have asked for better than my three darling girls.”

  “I’ll be heading over to Miss Trudi’s today. Grace said that she called and left a message on our machine about the sump pump in her basement again.”

  “You might need to replace the switch again; that half-horse motor should be good for another couple of years.”

  “But, Pop, it’s the third switch this year.”

  “Those pumps are workhorses; they just can’t seem to build a switch that’ll last as long. Mark my words, there’s still life in that motor.”

  “Yes, Pop. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.” She always listened to her father. No one knew as well as he did how to keep things running long after a sane person would have given up. Joseph Mulcahy would magically coax just a bit more life out of whatever he was working on, whether it be an aging refrigerator or a finicky sump pump. He had passed on his gift to his daughters: Meg had inherited his way with plumbing, Caitlin his carpentry skills, and Grace his innate charm and good business sense.

  Together the sisters had been keeping the family business going, despite Grace’s daily grumbling that she was being wasted working in Apple Grove, Ohio, when she could have gone off to Columbus and landed a job as an executive assistant. Caitlin insisted that she really wanted to build things, not repair them, but at least Cait hadn’t talked about moving away. Meg loved every minute spent working in their town to rebuild, and when that wasn’t possible, replace, whatever the good citizens of Apple Grove needed to keep their lives moving forward.

  She had never doubted that she and her sisters would grow up and learn how to be handymen. Gender had nothing to do with it; they were Mulcahys, and in their small town, their name had always been associated with the family business their great-grandfather had built and kept going through good times and bad.

  They didn’t always receive payment in monetary form; there were a few customers who bartered whatever they could, and the Mulcahys always accepted trade in exchange for whatever repair work was needed. Meg’s personal favorite was Mrs. Winter’s home-baked cherry pie. She’d gladly continue to sweat the pipes or crawl through spiderwebs in the basement of Mrs. Winter’s house in exchange for the pie. Caitlin was fond of Mr. Weatherbee’s wind chimes. He used bits of metal and glass to create musical whimsies that her sister treasured and accepted in trade for replacing his linoleum floor.

  The phone rang, startling Meg back to the present and the fact that the clock was ticking. “Mulcahy’s,” she answered, “no job is too small, Meg speaking.”

  “Hi, I need help,” a familiar deep voice rumbled. “The power just went off in my house, I can’t find the circuit breaker, I’m late for work, and it’s the first day of my new job.”

  Meg listened to the frustration building in the baritone on the other end of the line and couldn’t hold back her smile. The image of the man who’d brought a spark back to her life filled her mind and then her heart. “Well, Dan, let’s see what we can do for you.”

  The heartfelt sigh had her fighting the urge to chuckle. It was definitely a challenge; just the idea of not knowing where your circuit breakers were located was too funny.

  “How did you know it was—did you say Meg?”

  “Yes,” she laughed. “This is Meg. I recognized your voice first of all,” Meg told him, “and then the clue about the first day of your new job, unfamiliar house, blah, blah, blah.”

  “So you probably know where I live too, don’t you?”

  “Yep: 32 Elm Street, the old Saunders place.”

  There had been a lot of talk in town about the new phys ed teacher and high school varsity soccer coach. A few people had seen him when he came to town for the interview a few weeks ago. According to Honey B. Harrington, head of gossip central at Honey’s Hair Salon, he had a physique to die for—or in Honey’s younger sister’s words, he was a “hottie!” After meeting him Saturd
ay and then seeing him again yesterday at church, Meg could testify to the fact that he more than lived up to the gossip. He was totally hot.

  “You don’t have a circuit breaker box, just fuse panels.”

  “I know where to locate the fuses under the dashboard of a car, but heck if I’d know what to do with one in a house. Don’t all homes have circuit breakers for power these days?”

  “Depends on the age of the house and whether or not you have 120 or 220 volts of power coming in off the pole.”

  “I… uh… listen, I’d love to learn more, but right now I’m seriously going to be late and I’ve only got one chance to make a good first impression.”

  She knew exactly what he meant. Her heart went out to him and had her shifting her schedule around. “Tell you what, why don’t you head on out to work and I’ll squeeze you in between Miss Trudi’s sump pump and Mr. Weatherbee’s broken back door latch.”

  “But I won’t be home.”

  Taken aback, Meg didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t as if they were strangers. He’d met her dad and had been to their home. Growing up in Apple Grove meant that you took care of your neighbors, no matter how irascible they might be. Trust was second nature here. Everyone knew everyone else, or knew someone who did. Apple Grove was a close-knit town—like a page out of the past.

  She blew out a breath and said, “Since you’ve just moved to Apple Grove, you’re a neighbor. Neighbors help each other out here.” When he didn’t say anything, she added, “Technically we aren’t strangers since we met at Edie and Bill’s wedding, but I can have one of Sheriff Wallace’s deputies accompany me if you’re worried.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to such a friendly, open environment. Where I’m from, we lock our doors and have security systems.”

  Meg paused to let that foreign concept sink in. “I guess Apple Grove is a world away from that.”