Becoming a Cavanaugh

by Marie Ferrarella

  Instinctively, she knew this had to be Andrew Cavanaugh.

  “You came!” he exclaimed, his booming voice echoing with both pleasure and surprise. He turned approving eyes toward the young woman with his brother’s son. “And you brought someone with you.”

  Kyle nodded. “This is my new partner, Andrew. She’s new to Aurora and she asked me if I knew anyplace that served really good food.”

  “And you brought her to me,” Andrew concluded, pleased. “Well, young lady, I hope you don’t come away disappointed. By the way, Kyle forgot to introduce us. I’m Andrew Cavanaugh.”

  “Yes, I know,” Jaren said, shaking his hand. His grip was firm and warm. She noted that he didn’t insult her by weakening his grip in deference to her softer gender. She liked that. Nothing worse than a limp-wristed handshake. “My name is Jaren. Jaren Rosetti.”

  “Rosetti,” Andrew repeated. His eyebrows drew together as he thought for a moment. “I used to know a Joe Rosetti. He was on the Oakland police force. Had an occasion to work with him early on. Great guy. Any relation?”

  A spark of pride ignited. Until the end came when he had to be hospitalized, her father had somehow managed to be a functioning alcoholic, never drinking on the job, just continually from the moment he was off duty. He’d fooled a lot of people, she remembered.

  “He was my father.”

  “Was?” The concern in Andrew’s eyes was genuine. She liked him immediately.

  Jaren nodded. “He died a couple of months ago.” It was still hard for her to say that. Harder still to imagine a world without Joe Rosetti.

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear that, Jaren. Your father was a good cop.” Somewhere in the distance, a timer went off, but Andrew continued talking to the young woman his nephew had brought into his house. “He must have been proud to see you follow in his footsteps.”

  By the time she’d made it to the rank of detective, her father had retired from the force and been too wound up in his daily ritual of emptying wine bottles with Black Russian chasers to take much notice of anything.

  Jaren knew that her smile was just a wee bit tight as she said, “I’d like to think so.” Was it her imagination, or had the chief’s eyes softened just a shade, as if he understood what wasn’t being said?

  Andrew turned toward his nephew. “Why don’t you introduce Jaren around, Kyle? By the way, in case you’re wondering, your brother and sister are already here. You were the last holdout,” Andrew said with a soft laugh, as if he’d known all along that it would just be a matter of time before he was won over by the family. He clapped Kyle on the shoulder and said warmly, “Glad to see that you decided to make it. Wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

  Kyle looked back into the house. The living room, the family room and parts beyond, including the backyard, were teeming with people.

  “And how would you have noticed?” he asked dryly.

  “Trust me,” Andrew assured him, “I would have noticed.” The timer sounded a second time. Andrew checked his watch. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to see to the main course.”

  “He really does cook, then?” Jaren asked.

  Kyle laughed. “You don’t know the half of it.”

  She had never really mastered the kitchen. The best she could do was work with things that came in boxes and had the word helper in the title. Cooking for its own sake was a foreign concept to her. She’d been too busy juggling school, jobs—part-time and full—and caring for her delinquent father to spend any real time in the kitchen beyond cleaning up.

  “He seems like a very nice man,” she observed as she watched the former chief retreat into his state-of-the-art kitchen.

  “Yeah.” No matter how he felt—or didn’t feel—about becoming part of this close-knit clan, there was no denying the fact that Andrew Cavanaugh had done his damnedest to make the transition easy on all three of them. But he still wasn’t completely convinced that he wanted in.

  He became aware that his new partner was studying him. When he glanced over at her, she asked, “And you’re actually related to him?”

  He could see how she might doubt that, given their natures. “Yeah.”

  “How?” The single word had launched itself out of her mouth before she could think to stop it.

  He blew out a breath. “Do you ever stop asking questions?”

  “Sure. Once I get the answers.”

  Just because—in a moment of weakness he was beginning to regret—he’d felt sorry for her and brought her to this gathering, didn’t mean that he was going to bare his soul to her.

  “If you get all the answers,” he told her, “then there’s nothing to look forward to.”

  “Sure, there is,” she contradicted. “More questions—and answers.”

  He wasn’t about to be cornered into a game of truth or dare with this woman. “Don’t make me regret bringing you here.”

  Jaren knew when to back off. “I’ll do my best,” she promised.

  They stood in the doorway of the living room for perhaps ten seconds before they were approached by another one of the Cavanaughs. This time, it was Patience, the only Cavanaugh besides Janelle who wasn’t a law-enforcement agent. Patience’s vocation lay with curing animals. Her involvement with the police department, other than through her sibling, cousins and uncles, was by being the official vet for the K-9 unit. Which was how she’d met her husband.

  She was also Mike’s daughter and thus Kyle’s half sister, a connection she more than readily embraced. As she came toward them now, there was the same mixture of pleasure and surprise evident in her face that her uncle had displayed.

  She brushed her lips against Kyle’s cheek, catching him off guard. “I didn’t think you were going to make it,” she confessed. Her eyes darted to Jaren’s face, then back to her newly discovered half brother. “And you brought a date?” It was more of a question than an assertion.

  “I brought my partner,” Kyle corrected. “She was hungry and it’s a known fact that Andrew’s the best cook in town, so I just thought—”

  Why was he even explaining himself? Kyle wondered. Maybe he shouldn’t have shown up at all. More than that, a part of him regretted pushing for recognition as Mike Cavanaugh’s son. He wasn’t even completely certain why he’d pushed the way he had. What had he hoped to accomplish? It wasn’t as if the man was still around to acknowledge the connection.

  When he’d undertaken this little mission, he’d been prepared for fierce opposition. Just the opposite had occurred. He’d had dealings with the Cavanaughs before. Anyone who was on the force had had dealings with a member of the clan at one time or another. He’d always thought that they were a decent bunch of people. But even so, he’d expected them to be hostile to the idea that he and his siblings cast a shadow on Mike Cavanaugh’s name by turning up and claiming to be his offspring.

  Nothing could have been further from the truth. He still didn’t quite understand why.

  Patience hooked her arm through Jaren’s. “So, his new partner, huh? This should be interesting,” she prophesized. “By the way, I’m Patience, Kyle’s half sister. We shared a father,” she said matter-of-factly. “Let me take you around and introduce you, Jaren.”

  Jaren felt her mouth curving, reflecting the smile she felt inside. “Works for me.”

  Her smile didn’t even fade as she heard Kyle instruct Patience, “Take your time. There’s no hurry.”

  “He takes getting used to,” Patience confided with a comforting smile. “But in the long run, we figure he’s worth it.”

  “I’ve kind of figured that out myself,” Jaren told her.

  Patience looked at her for a long moment, her smile warm and welcoming. “My money’s on you, Jaren.”

  “Nice to know,” Jaren replied, the sentiment warming her heart.

  Chapter 4

  “C’mon, Callie, tell us. How old are you?” Riley McIntyre teased as they all gathered around the birthday celebrant and the huge, three-tiered cake Andrew
had baked, the last strains of an off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday” fading away. “You’ve got to be older than one.”

  One large white candle, a pink rose winding around its thick base, was all that stood atop the third tier. Callie had made her wish and blown it out to the sound of cheers, applause and laughter.

  “Older than you,” Callie responded with a toss of her head. Her eyes shone as she added, “That’s all you need to know.”

  “My wife is ageless,” Brent Montgomery informed Riley and anyone else who cared to make inquiries about Callie’s chronological age. “Like fine wine, she just gets better with time.”

  Slipping her arm around Brent’s waist, Callie inclined her head, resting it against his shoulder as she gave him a quick squeeze. “Knew there was a reason why I married this man.”

  “Yeah, ’cause he was the only one who wasn’t fast enough to run for the hills,” Clay, her younger brother and Teri’s twin, chimed in. It earned him a swat to the back of his head from his wife, Ilene.

  “I suggest we begin cutting the cake before someone gets tempted to start throwing it instead,” Andrew told the gathering. He placed one of his prized knives in Callie’s hand, moving the plates closer to her.

  “You heard the man,” Callie said to the rest of her family and friends. She made the first cut. “Line up if you don’t want to be left out.”

  No one had to be told twice. Riley was first in line, but rather than take a plate and walk away, she began to pass out the slices as Callie cut them and placed them on the plates.

  “Are they always like this?” Jaren asked. She was standing off to the side with Kyle, waiting for the crowd to thin down a little.

  Kyle shook his head. “I wouldn’t know. I’m new to this.”

  She slanted a knowing look in his direction. “That would explain it.”

  “Explain what?”

  “Why you didn’t sing ‘Happy Birthday’ when everyone else did.” She’d been standing right next to him and had wondered why he hadn’t joined in with the rest.

  “I sang,” he protested tersely.

  “No, you moved your lips,” she corrected. “But no sound came out of your mouth.” She grinned at Kyle. “So, what we had was video, but no audio.”

  He was one of those people who couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket and he knew it. He didn’t particularly like calling attention to the fact.

  “Maybe that was because I figured you’d take care of the audio all by yourself,” he retorted.

  She was a guest here and since he was the one who’d brought her, she wasn’t about to get embroiled in an argument, no matter how innocuous it was. So she nodded. “Glad to pitch in.”

  Riley handed him a plate. He, in turn, passed the slice of vanilla fudge cake to Jaren. “I’ve got a question for you,” he said.

  That surprised her. He seemed more inclined not to ask any questions, and she was certain that he was given to the philosophy: the less you know about a person, the less likely you are to get close to that person.

  “Okay,” she responded, drawing the single word out.

  Accepting the slice that Riley handed him, Kyle moved over to the side. Seeming to devote his attention to the cake on his plate, he asked, “Are you always this cheerful?”

  There were times when a sadness threatened to overwhelm her, but she always fought it off. She’d seen what an innate sadness could do. It had eventually destroyed her father.

  “I do my best.”

  “Well, stop it,” Kyle ordered just before he took a bite of cake.

  She glanced in his direction. There was a tolerant smile on her face that he found annoying and yet, still oddly attractive. Whatever else her faults were, she had an aura of sorts.

  “You don’t mean that,” she replied. “You might think you do, but you don’t.”

  “Oh, so now you think that you’re a psychiatrist?” he scoffed.

  “No, but I did take a few psych courses in college,” she answered glibly. “Everyone is better off thinking positive than dwelling on the negative.”

  “I don’t dwell on the negative,” he corrected her tersely, “I accept reality for what it is.”

  “Or what you make it out to be,” she countered.

  “When I figure it out, I’ll let you know,” Kyle told her darkly and with that, he turned away and put distance between them. Her cheerfulness was really starting to get under his skin.

  Feeling awkward was not something she ever allowed herself to experience for long. Left alone, Jaren made her way over to Andrew. The latter stood with his wife, Rose, as well as Callie, her husband and their children.

  Callie smiled at her, then, excusing herself, she ushered her family away.

  “What can I do for you, Jaren?” Andrew asked.

  That he remembered her name amid all these other people, even if they were his family, told her the kind of man he was. She wondered if his family appreciated him.

  “Chief, I just wanted to tell you that this has to be the best cake I’ve ever had.”

  Andrew allowed himself a moment to bask in the compliment. He knew exactly what he was capable of and had the utmost confidence in his abilities. But every once in a while, he relished hearing someone say it. His own family had become so accustomed to having their taste buds romanced. For the most part, the Cavanaughs took their meals here for granted.

  “Thank you, Jaren. And it’s Andrew,” he corrected. “It hasn’t been Chief for a very long time.”

  “If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’d still like to call you Chief. You’re my dad’s age and it just doesn’t seem respectful for me to call you by your first name.”

  He was nothing if not flexible. Raising five children single-handedly while searching for his missing wife had gone a long way in teaching him how to bend. “Then Chief it is,” Andrew allowed kindly. As he spoke, he refilled her plate with another slice. “So, tell me, how long have you been in Aurora?”

  It began simply enough, with her answering his question. That led to another question and another after that. Before she realized what was happening, Jaren found herself pouring out her heart to this man who had once known her father.

  By the time she finished, Jaren confided to Andrew that his was a family that most people dreamed of having.

  Andrew grinned broadly, surveying the room. “Yes, they did turn out pretty well, didn’t they? And the most amazing part was that every last one of them found soul mates who blended well into this mix.” He thought of the events of the last few months. “And just recently, the family expanded again when we gained Brian’s four stepchildren, plus my late brother’s trio.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the room where he spent a good deal of his time each day—the kitchen. “We’ve had to expand the basic table that’s in the kitchen. Again,” he added with a soft chuckle.

  “Not to mention that the kitchen’s been expanded twice,” Rose Cavanaugh told her, then confided, “You’d think with all that extra room, the man would let me in once in a while to experiment.”

  Andrew kissed the top of Rose’s head, the deep affection he had for her evident in his eyes. “Experiment’s the word for it all right,” he agreed, humor curving the sides of his mouth. “I love you with all my heart, Rose, you know that, but you have to face the fact that you really can’t boil water.”

  Rose gave an indifferent shrug. “I guess it’s lucky for me, then, that I found you,” she quipped.

  “Very lucky,” he agreed. The wink he gave her separated them from the rest of the room, creating their own little haven.

  Wow, Jaren thought as she quietly stepped back to give the chief and his wife a private moment. After all these years, the two were still very much in love.

  Maybe if her mother had felt that way about her father, he might have still been around rather than seeking to decimate his liver a lethal ounce at a time.

  But then, she reminded herself, her mother had initially left because of her father’s drinking. Nora R
osetti’s departure hadn’t been the cause of her father’s descent into the bottle. That had come about because of his inability to deal with the realities of his job, among other things—things that he took with him to the grave.

  “Kind of makes you believe in love, doesn’t it?”

  Startled, Jaren turned around to see a young woman standing almost at her elbow. The woman bore a striking resemblance to Kyle.

  “Yes,” Jaren said with a sigh, “it does.”

  The young woman extended her hand to her. “Hi, I’m Greer O’Brien. Or Cavanaugh. I haven’t quite decided yet,” she admitted honestly. Her smile widened. “I hear you’re my brother’s new partner.”

  “I am,” Jaren answered. Her curiosity piqued, she couldn’t help asking, “Are you getting married to a Cavanaugh?”

  Greer laughed. “No, turns out I am one. As are my brothers.” Not nearly as private a creature as Kyle, Greer focused on the positive side of this latest development. “All information the three of us received via a deathbed confession from my mother.”

  Kyle had mentioned his mother’s passing. But she’d had no idea that it had been this traumatic. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just recently lost my dad.”

  “Stings, doesn’t it?” Jaren nodded in response. “It’s even worse when you find out that the parent you worshipped was keeping things back from you.”

  She could see why that would hurt. In the woman’s shoes, she would have had trouble dealing with that herself. She tried to think of a reason that might be acceptable to Kyle’s sister.

  “Maybe your mother was just afraid that you’d think badly of her if you knew the truth,” she suggested. “From what I hear, parents care deeply what their children think of them.”

  The look in Greer’s blue eyes told Jaren that she hadn’t entertained that idea previously.

  “Maybe you have something there,” Greer commented, rolling the idea over in her head. And then she flashed a quick smile. “Makes it a little easier to deal with,” she admitted. “But Mom should have known we wouldn’t have sat in judgment of her.”