To Laugh

by Laura Scott

  To Laugh

  Laura Scott

  Readscape Publishing, LLC

  Copyright © 2018 by Laura Iding

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  Untitled

  1

  Jonas McNally slid out from behind the wheel, then leaned heavily against his car, staring up at his grandparents’ large and cheerful yellow house. It felt good to return to the place filled with happy childhood memories.

  The bright warm sunshine and the blue Michigan water were the same. The only thing missing was the laughter.

  At least on his part. Maybe the B&B guests would find the joy that eluded him over the past few months. The house looked exactly the same as he remembered when he and his siblings had spent summers here. The McNally Mansion as it was known by the townspeople. The place was still regal, tall and proud, the way his grandparents had been. It was sad that his grandparents had passed away while he’d been overseas, but it was good that Jazz and Jemma had created a business that would honor their memory. He and his three brothers had been more than willing to add their support to the twins’ business endeavor.

  With a sigh, he braced himself on the car, hopping on one foot until he could open the rear passenger door to pull out his crutches. The three-hour drive from the VA hospital in Battle Creek, Michigan, had been grueling. Seven weeks since his injury and his left leg throbbed like a bad toothache, amplified by a thousand.

  Tucking the crutches under his arms, he gingerly made his way across the wide parking area toward the front door. He was a day early because he’d left the VA hospital against medical advice. The only thing that would help him now was physical therapy. He knew it. The doctors knew it. Why they resisted signing his discharge paperwork was beyond him. He was fed up to his eyeballs with bureaucratic bull.

  Getting acclimated into the civilian life was what he was supposed to be doing, right? Here was the place to start. He lifted his hand and rapped on the door. Hopefully, his twin sisters wouldn’t mind his unexpected early arrival.

  “Coming!” A cheerful voice reached his ears. The door opened revealing his sister Jemma, her blond hair pulled back in a bouncy ponytail. She gasped in surprise. “Jonas! You’re here!”

  “Yep.” He tried to smile but thought it probably looked more like a pained grimace. “Hope it’s okay.”

  “You’re always welcome.” Jemma quickly embraced him, enveloping him in the scent of cinnamon and cloves. When she stepped back, her gaze dropped to the spot where his left foot was supposed to be. “Oh, Jonas.” Her voice was full of regret and sympathy. “Why didn’t you tell me? Tell any of us? We would have been there for you.”

  “Hey, I’m alive. That’s what matters.” He hated the way people stared at his now deformed left leg. And he wasn’t here to get sympathy from Jemma or anyone else in the family. “You gonna move out of the way, or what?”

  “Of course!” Jemma’s cheeks went pink, and he inwardly winced, realizing his curt sarcasm had hurt. It had been too long since he cared about other people’s feelings. She opened the door, holding it with one arm so he would have room to maneuver. “Please come in. Are you hungry? Thirsty? What can I get you?”

  “I’m fine.” His appetite had vanished with his left foot, but there was no need for her to know. He was afraid she and Jazz would hover over him as it was. He swept his gaze around the great room, settling in on the oil painting depicting the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland. His grandmother had painted it from memory shortly after she and his grandfather had immigrated here.

  Once he’d dabbled in painting, but that was a long time ago. Before the Army. Before Afghanistan. When he’d still had two legs and no flashbacks.

  Another lifetime.

  “What do you think?” Jemma asked, her tone uncertain as he took in the great room.

  “It’s just like when we were kids, down to the cherry wood furniture. I can’t believe it all looks the same.”

  “Grandma and Grandpa took good care of the place.” Jemma shut the door behind him. “Come into the kitchen. There isn’t a family room any longer; we’re using that space for the dining area.”

  He crutched after her, taking in the changes she’d mentioned. He was sad that he wouldn’t be able to sit in the family room to watch the lake but understood why they’d chosen to offer that view for their guests. Upon reaching the table, he propped the crutches in the corner and then gingerly sat down. “How’s business?”

  “Great!” Jemma’s brown eyes lit up with excitement. “Thanks to several amazing reviews we’re finally beginning to get noticed. We have two weddings booked, three if you count Jazz and Dalton’s upcoming ceremony.”

  “Where is the bride to be?”

  Jemma sent him a concerned look. “Didn’t you hear the sounds of hammering and sawing? They’ve been working on fixing up a small apartment for me and Trey over the garage.”

  Every muscle in his body went still, then he abruptly stood and reached for the crutches. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “Jonas, no!”

  He ignored her, moving fast despite his disability. Something was wrong. Fearing the worst, he threw open the door, trapping it with one crutch as he angled his way back outside.

  Stepping out on the porch, he came to an abrupt halt when he saw his sister and a dark-haired guy climbing out of her cherry red truck holding two pizza boxes. The truck was parked next to his boring four-door sedan. It still galled him that he’d had to give up his yellow Mustang convertible, but driving a five-speed manual transmission was impossible when you only had one foot.

  “Jonas!” Jazz thrust the pizza at Dalton before rushing over to throw her arms around him. If she noticed the crutches or his missing limb, she didn’t let on. “It’s so good to see you.”

  “Back at you.” Pinching the crutch under his armpit, he patted her back. “Hey. Introduce me, sis.”

  “Oh!” She let him go and stepped back, subtly swiping dampness from her cheeks. “Jonas, I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Dalton O’Brien. Dalton, this is the youngest of my four older brothers, Jonas.”

  “Nice to meet you, Jonas.” To his credit, Dalton’s gaze didn’t linger on his injury. The guy stepped forward and offered his hand. “I want you to know I love your sister very much.”

  Jonas shook his hand, appreciating Dalton’s directness. “Glad to hear it. You should know if you hurt her, I’ll have to hurt you.”

  “Jonas.” Jazz rolled her eyes. “You’re not my father.”

  “I would do the same thing in your shoes,” Dalton said, ignoring his fiancée and holding Jonas’s gaze. Jonas appreciated the sign of respect.

  “I may not be her father or the oldest brother, but I am here to protect her. I understand you’re getting married.”

  “Yes. Jazz wanted to wait for you. Now that we’ve set the date, the rest of the brothers have promised to be here, too.”

  “Even Jake is flying in from Ireland,” Jazz added. “We haven’t seen him since Grandma’s funeral.”

  The funerals he’d missed. Granddad had died first, then Grandma three months later. Jemma came ou
t of the house to join them. He sensed the look between his twin sisters but ignored it.

  He was already dreading seeing the expression on his brothers’ faces when they noticed his missing leg. He turned to look at the large four-car garage. He’d been so focused on the house that he hadn’t noticed the new windows framed in on the upper level.

  “You’re creating an apartment up there?”

  “For Jemma and Trey, and eventually Garth.”

  Casting his mind back, he placed the name. The guy who’d answered Jemma’s phone the night he’d decided to let her know he was in the hospital.

  “We’re engaged,” Jemma said with a shy smile. “He’s a great guy, Jonas. You’ll meet him later tonight.”

  “Sounds good.” The joy reflected on his twin sisters’ faces was blinding. He was truly happy for them.

  But being surrounded by this much cheerfulness was already wearing him down. Jonas decided then that he’d only stay long enough to watch Jazz and Dalton get married, before blowing out of there.

  No sense in dragging down the rest of the family as he worked through his issues.

  He was better off on his own.

  Izabella Collins drove her car into the driveway of The McNallys’ B&B. The place was impressive, better than she’d expected.

  She hopped out of the car and then hauled her suitcase out of the back seat.

  Inspired by the Irish name and the location overlooking Lake Michigan, Bella had chosen The McNallys’ B&B as the place to stay for the next ten days. Ten days while the powers that be at the Battle Creek VA Hospital decided her fate.

  Paid leave, they called it. A euphemism for getting together the evidence they needed to fire her. She hadn’t done anything wrong, but it was her word against Dr. Hackbarth’s and Emily’s, his physician assistant. Hackbarth and Emily had claimed she was the one responsible for the error, despite the fact that Hackbarth had been the one to use the wrong antibiotic on the patient, causing the poor guy to go into anaphylactic shock resulting in a heart attack and subsequent death.

  It still burned her britches that Eli Hackbarth had thrown her under the bus in order to cover his own butt. The jerk. Emily Archer had claimed Bella had given the antibiotic, too, even though the PA’s back was turned and she couldn’t possibly have seen anything unless she had eyes in the back of her head. Even the surgical tech in the room, Aaron Campbell, had claimed he hadn’t seen Hackbarth provide the wrong medication.

  The whole team had turned against her.

  And to think she’d stayed late to help them out! So much for gratitude. Men were slime-buckets, each and every one of them. Whatever. She wasn’t going to think about what had transpired.

  As far as she was concerned, this was a paid vacation, courtesy of the Battle Creek VA. No dwelling on what the outcome of the investigation might be. She knew, only too well, how hospital administrators tended to support the doctors over their own nursing staff. At least when it came to a he-said, she-said scenario. And in this case, it was three against one.

  Tugging on her suitcase with more force than was necessary, she made her way up to the front porch. Before she could knock, a pretty blonde opened the door.

  “Ms. Izabella Collins? Welcome to The McNallys’ Bed and Breakfast! I’m Jemma McNally, please come in.”

  “Thanks, but please, call me Bella.” She hauled her suitcase up and over the threshold. Stepping into the great room was like taking a step back in time. “Wow, it’s beautiful!”

  Jemma beamed. “I can’t take the credit, this used to be my grandparents’ home. I hope you find it as comfortable and welcoming as we do. Here, I’ll take your bag. You’ll be staying in the rose room.”

  “Sounds awesome, but really, I can take my own luggage up. It’s my fault for overpacking.”

  “No, please, I insist.” Jemma reached for the bag, and they played tug-of-war for a moment before Bella relinquished her grip.

  She followed Jemma up the sweeping grand staircase, imagining how it must have looked in its heyday. Had the McNallys held parties in the great room? Had Jemma sat at the top of the stairs as a child, watching the events below?

  “Here you go.” Jemma sounded a bit breathless from the weight of Bella’s suitcase. “I hope you like it.”

  “It’s great.” The room done in a relaxing shade of green was as quaint and perfect as the rest of the place. “And the view!” She crossed over to peer out at Lake Michigan. “Stunning.”

  “Again, I can’t take any credit,” Jemma said with a laugh. “This afternoon, I’m serving vanilla macadamia nut cookies along with coffee, tea, or lemonade, whichever you prefer.”

  “Herbal tea would be great.” Bella turned away from the window. “No caffeine after noon for this girl.”

  “You and me, both,” Jemma confided. “Head down whenever you’re ready.”

  The idea of unpacking didn’t appeal, so Bella washed up in the bathroom, then headed down the stairs. At the bottom she saw an incredibly handsome man on crutches coming out of the kitchen into the great room. She couldn’t tear her gaze from the muscles of his upper arms and shoulders rippling as he maneuvered through the furniture.

  “Hi.” The greeting popped out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Was it any wonder her impulses sometimes got her into trouble? “I’m Bella Collins. Are you a guest here, too?”

  The man’s deep brown eyes burned into hers for a moment, before shying away. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

  “Great.” She stood where she was, hoping he’d introduce himself, but of course, he didn’t. She told herself to get over it. It wasn’t as if she were looking for a man.

  Slime-buckets, remember?

  “Oh, Jonas, why don’t you sit here for a few minutes with our guest? I have enough cookies for both of you.” Jemma set the tray down near the sofa. “What would you like to drink, Jonas?”

  The man with the crutches grunted as he lowered himself to the chair to the right. “Lemonade works.”

  “Great. Coming right up.”

  Bella sampled a vanilla macadamia nut cookie, moaning when it melted in her mouth. “This is incredible.”

  “Yeah. My sister has amazing baking skills.”

  It was the longest sentence he’d uttered. She glanced at him in surprise. “Jemma is your sister?”

  He reached for a cookie. “Gee, you’re a quick one, aren’t you?”

  She narrowed her gaze, not appreciating his sarcasm. “Yeah, that’s me. The sharpest knife in the drawer.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked. Was that his idea of a smile? If so, it was pathetic.

  Then again, with his shaggy blond hair and chiseled features, she suspected his smile might be lethal. Even wearing what appeared to be a perpetual scowl on his face, he was devastatingly handsome.

  “Here you go.” Jemma handed Jonas a tall glass of lemonade. The crisp lemony scent almost made her wish she’d chosen the lemonade over the herbal tea. Seeing Jemma and Jonas together, it was easy to see they were brother and sister in that they shared the same coloring including their blond hair and big brown eyes. “Jonas, I’ve put you in the yellow room, hope that’s okay.”

  Jonas shrugged as if he didn’t care. “Yeah, sure.”

  “I have a young couple celebrating their anniversary coming in this weekend, and I’ve placed them in the blue room.” Jemma’s smile was contagious as she took a seat beside her brother and helped herself to a cookie. She turned toward Bella. “The blue room is the closest thing we have to a honeymoon suite.”

  “Sounds lovely,” Bella said. “I’m sure they’ll enjoy it.”

  “Do you have any special plans for while you’re here?” Jemma asked.

  “Not really, although I can’t wait to explore a bit. I just love small towns, don’t you?”

  “Mommy!” The sound of a child’s voice sent Jemma to her feet.

  “Coming, Trey.” She smiled again at Bella. “Excuse me. I hope you enjoy your stay with us.”

>   Jemma disappeared from the room, leaving her with grumpy-face.

  “Did you grow up here?” Bella asked, unable to stand the suffocating silence.

  “No.” Jonas finished his cookie, then drank half the glass of lemonade. “Summers only.”

  Oookayy. The man was the antithesis of a chatterbox. “I bet it was a lot of fun. Do you have other brothers and sisters? Or is it just you and Jemma?”

  He stared at her for a long moment, as if trying to decide if she was human or an alien from another planet. There were days she wasn’t sure herself. “There are six of us,” he finally said. “Do you always ask so many questions?”

  “Me?” She thought about it for a moment. “Yes, I guess I do. I’m a naturally curious person.”

  “Nosy,” he corrected.

  She huffed, but then laughed. Hadn’t her father often accused her of being too nosy for her own good? “I prefer curious.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of ending up like the cat?”

  She glanced around in confusion, then realized what he meant. “That’s just an old cliché. I’m fairly certain no cat was ever actually killed by curiosity.”

  He quirked an eyebrow but didn’t say anything more. He ate a second cookie, but she restrained herself. She had no doubt that Jemma’s baking skills would prove detrimental to her waistline.

  “Well, that was excellent.” She finished her chamomile tea, setting the cup aside. “Guess I’ll see you around, Jonas.”

  The way he stared at her was a bit unnerving. She swiped a hand over her face, wondering if she had crumbs sticking to her cheeks or chin.

  Bella pushed herself to her feet, disconcerted when he quickly stood as well. He grabbed for his crutches before she could offer to help, and she sensed he was standing out of sheer politeness. Someone had drilled some manners into the guy.