It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to squash down his emotions. After a lifetime of putting a lid on them, they were boiling over like an overfilled pot on the stove. He couldn’t seem to rein himself in. No doubt Delilah thought he was over the top. Or off his rocker. He had left her office rather abruptly as memories of the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of his stepfather had threatened to choke him.
Delilah. She had been helpful. And kind. She had promised to look into the situation, although she had warned him about the possibility that the records might not be available. He’d shocked himself by how open he’d been about his past. Something about Delilah’s calm acceptance had made it way easier than he’d ever imagined to bare his soul. And she had listened to every word he said without interruption. She hadn’t made him feel crazy either. Not one little bit.
Mac pulled up to his place of business and took a moment to give it the once-over. The white clapboard shop had a timeless charm. He had wanted a classic look for his business, one that would withstand the test of time. The hunter green shutters added a touch of masculinity to the place. Woodworks. The bronze sign said it all very succinctly.
Woodworking had been the only thing he’d really ever been great at doing. He had never been at the top of his class like Brandon or excelled on the athletic field like Wyatt. Working with his hands had been his peace in the middle of the storms of life. Ever since he could remember he had been crafting pieces out of wood and turning the ordinary into the extraordinary. It was a humble endeavor, one that would never bring him fame or riches like some of his brothers. But it was his dream come true.
Thanks to Brandon and Remy investing in his business, he’d been able to create his shop exactly the way he had always dreamed of doing, without worrying about every last dime. And the shop had been a modest success so far, with sales increasing by the day.
His business. He couldn’t help but grin as he took the closed sign from off the door and let himself into his shop. For most of his life he had shied away from dreaming. Dreaming led to heartbreak and dashed hopes. Dreaming led to despair. Even though his life as a Donahue had shown him over and over again the fault in that logic, he’d always been hesitant to throw his penny in the wishing well. How wrong he’d been! Good things could happen for him. Although he wished he could tell himself he deserved it, there was still that little part of him that didn’t think he was worthy.
The sound of a creaking stair drew his attention. Mac stood completely still. Every instinct in his body told him that he wasn’t alone in the shop. The sound of a footstep had him grabbing a plank of wood and pivoting around with the plank extended in his hand as a weapon.
“Whoa! What are you trying to do? Kill me?” the man shouted.
Mac’s shoulders sagged and he released the plank as he laid eyes on the six foot, dark-haired, brown-eyed intruder. With his dark jeans and black T-shirt, he looked like the epitome of someone who was up to no good. He had always been part Ninja!
“Parker! How did you get in here?” he asked with a scowl.
His cousin, Parker Donahue, raised an eyebrow. “Now, Mac, do you really need to ask that question?”
Of course he didn’t. Ever since they were kids Parker had impressed everyone with his uncanny ability to pick locks and gain entry to places that were off limits to them. He’d possessed an innate skill for uncovering things that were hidden away. More times than not, Parker had gotten into major trouble for his shenanigans. Like Mac, Parker had his own house full of siblings, so whenever the extended family came together it was complete mayhem. Even though he’d never liked commotion, reunions and vacations with the Florida Donahue cousins had been magical. He’d long ago come to the conclusion that God had deliberately placed him in the midst of extroverted people so he could come out of his introverted shell.
“Some things never change,” Mac said, reaching out to grab Parker up in a bear hug. Parker thumped him on the back.
“You didn’t have to fly down. We could have talked it out over the phone,” Mac said. Leave it to Parker to just show up, ready and willing to help out.
“Hey, cuz. You said that you needed my help with something urgent, so here I am.”
“You almost got your head knocked off,” Mac said with a frown.
“My reflexes are better than that,” Parker boasted. “After all these years I can still take you.”
Mac threw his head back and let out a roar of laughter. “Still? I can’t remember you ever taking me.”
Growing up with Parker and his other Florida cousins had been unforgettable. Although they’d been separated by geography, their parents had made sure that they got together at least several times a year. It had given Mac and his siblings a chance to visit the Florida shores and to experience the Southern lifestyle. In return, Parker and his family had been able to enjoy the Cape Cod lifestyle and the pleasures of New England. And there was nothing better than seeing his father reunited with his own brother, Jude, who was one of triplets.
Parker leaned back against his desk. “So, what’s the deal, Mac? Your message was cryptic.”
“Take a seat, Parker and I’ll tell you everything.”
Parker sat down across from him. His eyes were filled with curiosity. As a PI, Mac knew that nothing stimulated Parker’s senses more than a mystery to be solved. He loved putting the pieces together and being out in the field chasing down leads.
For the next half hour Mac told Parker all about his search for Callie and his decision to try and track her down, along with Mrs. Worther. He explained that during a trip to Boston he’d been given a number for her that was no longer valid. Although he knew Parker must have been surprised by some of the information flowing out of his mouth, his cousin managed to maintain a calm façade.
“So, you see, I’m starting at square one,” Mac said with a sigh.
“Yeah,” Parker said, scratching his jaw. “Finding Beatrice Worther won’t be difficult, I imagine. Up until recently she was employed in Boston with the foster care agency, and, after such a lengthy career, she should have professional ties in the city. It might be easy for me to just run her name through the database here in Massachusetts. Then, if necessary, we can broaden the search in the event that she’s moved out of state.”
“And Callie?” Her name almost got lodged in Mac’s throat. After all this time it still felt emotional to be talking about the sister he had lost.
“That might be tough, Mac. For all intents and purposes she was most likely adopted or taken in by a foster care family. It could be that her paperwork got mixed up with another child or she was quickly taken out of the system by an adoptive family.” He shifted his gaze away from Mac. “But there’s also the possibility of something darker.”
Mac leaned forward in his chair. “What? Don’t hold back on me.”
“If there really has been such a cover-up, maybe something happened to her all those years ago. Maybe she’s deceased.”
“No!” Mac cried, his voice echoing in the stillness of the room. He could hear the pain ringing out in his tone. “She’s alive! I would know it if she wasn’t in this world anymore. Trust me, I’d know it.”
Parker viewed him with a shuttered expression. “You may be right, but I have to prepare you for the possibilities. It’s not pleasant talk, but I have to keep it real with you. Twenty years is a long time. Keep in mind that anything might have happened to her. Another stumbling point is that we have no idea as to whether her name is still Callie. Most likely her last name has changed. Her geography has most likely changed. From the sounds of it, you don’t even have a picture of her, do you? Or any ties to any members of your birth family who might have a photo, a record. Anything.”
“No,” he admitted. “I never even had a picture. We didn’t have pictures taken of us. We weren’t even in school. No school portraits for us or nice photos hanging on the fridge. I left that house with the clothes on my back. The only thing I wanted to keep was Callie. And it was jus
t my birth mother and my stepfather. No one else.”
“Mac, I’m so sorry. You’ve been through so much.” Parker ran a hand over his face. He looked shell shocked. “I don’t even remember hearing about you having a sister when we were kids,” Parker admitted.
“It’s okay. There are lots of layers to my story. Mom and Pops were being told that Callie might be a result of the trauma I suffered.”
“Like an imaginary friend?”
“Yeah. I don’t blame them or anything. Remember. No records. No picture. Even our neighbors wouldn’t have known about Callie or myself since we were kept inside all the time and we moved from place to place. My adoptive parents did the best they could with the information they had. They were shooting in the dark and trying their best to deal with all my anger issues.”
“They had no idea that the loss of Callie was at the root of those anger issues, I’m guessing.”
Mac shook his head. His life would have been so much easier if there had been a way to prove Callie’s existence. “Not a clue. After a while I had to pack her away like a box of memories. Something just woke up inside me recently. Maybe with all of my brothers settling down and getting married I started thinking about the past and how there was a big hole there.”
“Are you getting any local help?”
“Sarah’s sister, Delilah, works for social services.” Mac shrugged. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but having a local “in” felt huge. As far as he was concerned, the more people aiding him in the search for Callie the better. Somehow he’d never imagined that Delilah would be one of the people aiding him in his mission.
Parker raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. Delilah, huh? I remember her from Blue’s wedding.” He let out a whistle. “She’s all kinds of gorgeous from what I recall.”
Gorgeous? Hmm. Delilah was extremely attractive. With her light red hair, cornflower blue eyes and wide, high cheekbones, she would make any man do a double take. He’d never really thought about her that way. She’d always been sociable and friendly, way too outgoing to be a possibility for him though. Delilah had always been a part of the social whirl in Breeze Point. He seemed to recall her dating Tim Sutton a few years ago. He’d been one of the jocks Wyatt had played baseball with in high school. A big-headed athlete who had been under the belief that he was God’s gift to women. Mac had never liked him. If he was being honest with himself, he’d judged Delilah for dating a jerk like Tim. What kind of woman, he’d asked himself, would date an obnoxious know-it-all?
“She’s pretty,” Mac acknowledged.
“She’s more than pretty,” Parker said. “If I lived here in town I might make a play for her.”
Mac laughed. Parker had always had an eye for the ladies. He liked to boast that no woman had ever owned his heart. Mac knew for a fact that wasn’t true, but he never challenged his cousin on it. As a PI, the main love in his cousin’s life at the moment was his job.
Parker’s comment about Delilah forced Mac to consider whether he’d ever really stopped to look at her. Had he made a mistake in shooting down the idea of going out on a date with her? Was it right to make a judgment about her based on who she’d dated in the past?
“So, Parker, how about we have dinner later on at the Cove and talk about me hiring you to find my sister?”
Parker clapped him on the shoulder. “Sounds good, Mac.” He flashed him a pearly grin. “And if you play your cards right, I might charge you my family and friends rate.”
“Aren’t I lucky?” Mac cracked as Parker headed toward the exit with a wave. Mac shook his head and let out a low chuckle as his cousin sailed out the front door. Having Parker in town was a blessing. Suddenly, he felt more hopeful about finding Callie than he’d ever felt before.
**
“The best laid plans often go astray,” Delilah muttered as she stood next to her beat-up Chevy and surveyed the smoke emanating from under the hood.
Every day when she started her car she’d wondered whether this might be the day when Betty broke down on her. Betty had been with her for almost eleven years. Four years too long according to Sarah. Although she loved being a social worker, her salary was fairly modest. Hanging on to Betty for as long as possible had been her game plan for quite some time. New cars were expensive.
A trickle of fear slivered down her back. This stretch of road was heavily traveled during the day but fairly isolated during the evening hours. So much for enjoying the soothing view of Breezy Beach. After a quick bite on Main Street with some girlfriends, Delilah had made the impulsive decision to take a drive alongside the beach road with her windows down with the wind whipping in her hair.
Riding in her car with the top down reminded her of all those summer nights when she’d been a dreamy-eyed teen-ager. Back then her heart had been wide open and innocent. Believing in true love had been as natural as breathing. It hurt her soul to realize how those dreams had been crushed time after time. At seventeen, Delilah had been a hopeless romantic. She’d read romance novels in her spare time. Her head had been filled with dreams of being swept off her feet by a handsome stranger. Although she had never lacked for boyfriends over the years, not a single one had treated her well. And because of those relationships, her self-esteem had plummeted. When her ex-boyfriend, Tim, had made comments questioning her weight she’d restricted her calories and thrown out anything that made her look heavy. Never before in her life had she ever questioned her looks. She’d always been happy just as God made her. Sometimes, even now, she had to remind herself that she was worthy of love. She was a good person.
Love yourself. Her mother’s words buzzed in her ears. When the doubts washed over her she recited the words over and over again. If she couldn’t love herself, how could she expect a man to love her? As a result, she was taking it slow on the dating front. The next man who entered her life would have to be someone very special. A man who didn’t just spout Bible verses. He would have to be a man who lived those principles each and every day.
Heaving a tremendous sigh, Delilah fished her cell phone out of her purse and dialed the number for Rusty’s Auto Shop. She let out a groan as an automated message came on announcing that the shop was closed until eight a.m. the next morning.
The bright lights of an oncoming car momentarily blinded her. The car—which appeared to be a truck—slowed down a few feet from where her car was parked. Although part of her wanted the car to stop and provide her assistance, another part of her felt a trickle of nervousness about being alone with a stranger on a darkened road. Breeze Point was a tight-knit, safe community, but it was never wise to let one’s guard down. Bad things happened everywhere.
The driver cut off his lights, which allowed Delilah to get a better look. As the truck door opened, Delilah felt her heart hammering inside her chest. The sound of it was pulsing in her ears. A familiar, brawny figure came into view. Although there was only a dim light illuminating the area, she was able to make out the driver’s identity. Mac! She knew him instantly by his broad shoulders, the strong tilt of his head and the way he swaggered toward her. There weren’t many men in town who looked like him. She placed her hand over her stomach as butterflies began to swirl around inside.
“Hey! Do you need some help?” he called out.
Delilah had the feeling that Mac had no clue he was riding to her rescue. The interior of her car was as dark as the dimly lit beach road. She wrenched open her door and got out.
“Hey Mac. It’s me. Delilah! My car won’t start. I think it might have overheated. There’s lots of steam coming from the hood.” She pointed feebly in the direction of the hood.
Mac’s expression didn’t change. There was a slight widening of his eyes. He nodded in her direction. “Hi, Delilah. How long have you been out here?” he asked with a frown.
“Ten minutes or so. Not too long.”
“Are you all right?” he asked, his eyes flickering with something that resembled concern.
“I’m fine,” she answered, feeling perpl
exed by the sudden pleasure rushing through her as a result of Mac’s question. It had been a long time since a man had asked or cared about her well-being.
“Is anybody coming?”
She shook her head. “Rusty’s place is closed.”
“Let me take a look under the hood.”
“Sure. Let me pop the hood open.” Delilah opened the door and pressed the button to open up the hood. She stood outside the car and watched as Mac lifted the hood and began poking around inside. After a few minutes he closed the hood and brushed his hands on his dark jeans. He took a few steps toward her. “You’ve got a few things going on. The car is overheating, which is most likely due to a problem with your radiator. You’re also dealing with a pretty old car here. I hate to break it to you, but this could be it. You might want to start looking for a replacement car.”
Delilah’s spirits sank. She couldn’t mask her expression at the moment if she tried. “I’ve had Betty for so long I can’t even imagine not having her.”
Mac frowned, making his handsome features even more intense.
“Betty?” he asked. “You lost me.”
Delilah chuckled. “Sorry. I named my car Betty. She’s like an old friend.” The smile that crept over Mac’s face was slow in the making, but by the time it reached its full potential it threatened to topple her over. How in the world had she been unaware until recently of Mac’s devastating appeal? It had crept up on her and knocked her over the head. Perhaps she had been too busy dating the bad boy variety to have been able to appreciate the Mac Donahues of the world.
“That’s funny. I’ve never named one of my rides before.”
Delilah peered around him at his truck. It was gigantic and as red as an apple. She tapped her finger on her chin. “Your car looks like a Thor. Big and powerful.”
Mac’s throaty chuckle sounded delightful to her ears. It felt good to make him laugh.
“Thor! That’s a perfect name for it. You’re good at naming cars.”
“It’s a special talent,” she teased, enjoying the light camaraderie that flowed so easily between them.
When A Man Loves A Woman (Seven Brides Seven Brothers Book 7) Page 4