Accidentally Family

by Sasha Summers

  She handed him his badge, reaching for the brochure at the same time he did. For some indiscernible reason it was important she not see the damn thing. His business was his business. He and Diana were struggling, but they’d be okay. He snatched up the brochure and stood, hoping like hell she hadn’t seen what it was.

  He helped her up, fully aware of the way she was looking at him—and choosing not to acknowledge it. “Checking on Jack?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Still no change.”

  He already knew that. “I peek in on him whenever I can.”

  “You do?” She smiled. “Of course you do.”

  He swallowed, overwhelmed with loneliness. There was a time he could have told this woman anything. Not all that long ago, he and Julia and Matt and Felicity were a team, of sorts, navigating marriage and parenting together. Right now, he could use a team.

  “You and Diana should come by the house, Graham.” Those green eyes were searching his. “If you have time?”

  He would have time. Soon. For a long overdue vacation. With his daughter. And it scared the shit out of him. Not that Felicity needed to be burdened with any of this. As tempting as her invitation was, he knew Felicity had enough chaos without introducing Diana into the mix. “I appreciate the offer but—”

  “Don’t ‘but’ me, Graham Murphy.” She was smiling. “Say yes. I have a feeling we’re both charting unfamiliar territory here. Maybe, I don’t know, we could spot each other?”

  She meant it. He could tell. The weight crushing his chest lightened the slightest bit.

  “Okay?” she asked, placing her hand on his arm and lightly squeezing.

  Saying no was the right thing to do. He should say no, smile, and walk away. Instead, he nodded. “Okay.”

  “Good.” She squeezed his arm lightly. “No need to call.” She let go of him, already headed inside. “You and Diana are welcome anytime, Graham.”

  He stood, watching until she disappeared inside—her long auburn hair and light-blue dress swallowed up by the automatic hospital doors—taking the brief sense of lightness with her.

  Chapter Four

  The last four days had convinced Felicity that everyone she knew had secretly decided the last eighteen months of her life hadn’t happened. No, Matt hadn’t married Amber, but he hadn’t been married to her when he died, either. Once word of Matt’s death got out, something changed. He was once more her beloved husband, town doctor, pillar of the community, and Honor and Nick’s adoring father. Honor took it in stride. Nick did not.

  Once the funeral was over, the kids deserved a break. She wasn’t sure where or how, but it might do both of them some good to have a change of scenery. Maybe Charity could take them someplace exciting, let them laugh, grieve…be.

  But first they had to survive the funeral.

  The day was hot and rainy and gray, so oppressively humid her black dress stuck to her back. By the time family and friends were done sharing their fondest memories of Matt, hostility was rolling off Nick. She took his hand, needing the contact as much as he did. Between the throb in her head and the stifling heat, she was just as ready for this to be over as Nick.

  Well, close to it.

  Once the service was over, the town descended on the house to continue their support. No one seemed to realize that all Felicity and her kids wanted was to be left alone. She kept smiling, accepting food and hugs of sympathy. Nick was surly and rigid, while Honor did her best to intercept and divert.

  Charity, thank God, made running interference for the kids her top priority. Hopefully, Nick wouldn’t blow up on one of the well-meaning citizens of Pecan Valley.

  She carried another tray of food into the kitchen, searching the laden counters, island, and table for room. She gave up, gently laying the tray on top of a cake plate and rifling through the kitchen cabinet for two aspirin. The band of pressure around her temples was expanding—and tightening. What she wouldn’t give for a hot bath, some wine, and lots of peace and quiet.

  “I think these have pecans,” Charity said, backing into the kitchen toting a massive dish. “Pecan raisin cookies and some zucchini bread—with pecans.”

  Pecans were important to Pecan Valley—so important that most residents figured a way to incorporate them into everyday recipes. Sometimes it was delicious. Sometimes, it wasn’t. Felicity cocked a brow at her sister. “It’s nice.”

  “It’s weird,” her sister countered. “Was there some sort of time warp I missed on the flight? I mean, I’m not going to turn down the food, but how did this happen? You aren’t married to Matt anymore, right? You’re single. Available. Unattached to Dr. Douchebag. Sorry, guess I can’t do that now that he’s…” Charity broke off, her smile dimming. “Well, sorry.”

  Dr. Douchebag. Felicity didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “It’s the town, I think. Someone dies, the town feeds their family. Since Honor and Nick are his only family—and Jack—they’re doing what they feel is right.” Felicity wiped down the sink faucet, finding things that needed to be done in the kitchen to escape the curious, if well-meaning, residents of Pecan Valley. “We take care of one another—through good times and bad. One of the reasons I love this place.” It was a reminder—for herself.

  “I say we kick everyone out and you indulge in some seriously hard liquor.” Charity slid onto one of the bar stools. “Nick definitely looks like he could use a drink.”

  “My sixteen year old?” Felicity sighed, wiping the marble countertop with vigorous strokes. “I think that might be a bad idea. Besides, I need to head back to the hospital soon, anyway.”

  Charity frowned. “No, you don’t, Filly. You need to stay here. Your kids need you. Grams is with baby Jack. She has it under control. As long as she’s got her knitting basket, she’s happy.”

  Felicity leaned forward, resting her elbows on the counter. “Maybe.” But there was no maybe about it. Charity was right. “How did my little sister get so smart?”

  Charity’s eye roll was epic. “I’ve always been smart. And since you’re actually listening to me, I’m going to add that you need a rest.” Charity took her hand. “And, probably, alcohol. If I remember things correctly, a couple of drinks and you’re out like a light. Might do you some good.”

  Felicity pushed off the counter, stretching her back and arms. “I can’t. Not yet.”

  “Why? If Jack wakes up and you’re asleep, we’ll wake you up.” She sighed. “Seriously, Filly, how much sleep have you had in the last five days?”

  Felicity didn’t answer.

  “You’re not going to be much help to anyone if you’re a zombie.” Charity kept on. “You’d probably scare the shit out of Jack, too.”

  “Girls.” Their mother came in. “We have guests. You two can run and hide later.”

  Charity rolled her eyes again, slid off the stool, and waited for Felicity. “Guess it’s a good thing you’re not taking a nap because I’m not going out there alone.”

  Felicity led the way, her cheeks aching from her pinned-in-place smile. She had to. Yes, everyone was here to be supportive, but they were watching—closely. She’d been on the receiving end of sympathetic looks and whispers before Matt’s death. Now, she’d progressed to murmurs of “poor Felicity,” followed by lots of “bless your heart.” Matt’s death was shocking, but she’d lost him eighteen months ago. It was the kids she was worried about.

  “Stay strong,” Charity whispered, hooking arms.

  If she fell apart now, people would read into it—and her little sister was reminding her of that. More drama should be avoided at all costs. Especially for the kids. “Will do.”

  After another hour of playing the perfect hostess, she glanced across the room to see Nick creeping up the stairs as slowly as he could, taking care to dodge the squeaking board, before disappearing from sight. Good. He had the right to some time to himself. After today, this week, t
hey all did. Not too much, not enough to get lost in grief, but just enough.

  Gauging that might be a problem.

  Not five minutes later, Honor was making her way up the stairs, offering a small wave before making her escape.

  “Excuse us, won’t you?” Her mother led her from a group of nurses who had worked with Matt to a small tribe of hat-wearing women that Felicity knew well. “Gram’s widows’ group is here. Come say hello. They brought pecan sticky rolls.”

  Felicity accepted hugs and lipstick kisses on the cheek. These women had been a part of her life since before she could remember, and she was thankful for their presence here today. Not only did the widows’ group have stories and “tidbits” to share about everyone in the room—they had strong opinions on who should be doing what and why. It was expected and oddly comforting.

  “Felicity, honey, we stopped by to see your grams at the hospital before we came, and we have an idea,” Widow Rainey said, taking her hands. “There’s not a lot to occupy a bunch of old biddies like us—”

  “Except doctor’s appointments,” another widow said.

  “And bingo,” another added, her gigantic black and tulle hat resting at an impressive angle on her head. “Can’t give up bingo.”

  “Fine, fine,” Widow Rainey continued. “What I’m trying to say is, we’d like to help you out with little Jack. We can all take turns watching him while he’s sleeping. That way you’re not chained to that hospital. You’ve got family that need you and a life to live. We don’t mind waiting.”

  “You hear that, Felicity?” Charity gushed, joining in. “I’m not the only one worrying over you. I was saying the same thing to her.”

  Widow Rainey nodded. “I know you don’t like to burden others, Felicity. And we all admire how well you’ve handled things, but I don’t know of a soul in Pecan Valley who wouldn’t offer up a little time to watch over that baby and take a bit off your plate.”

  Felicity’s eyes burned, badly. And her hands, still clasped in Widow Rainey’s hands, were trembling ever so slightly. “I don’t want to impose—”

  “It’s no imposition, honey,” one of the women said.

  “Not at all,” the jaunty-hat woman continued.

  “Wouldn’t have offered if it was,” Widow Rainey finished. “We’ll start tomorrow. Here’s what we’ve worked out. But you just let us know if you need something else.”

  Felicity took the graph paper, lined and labeled with a flowing, tidy script. In the margin, each of the ladies’ names and phone numbers was listed. “I…I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Well, then, that’s that,” Widow Rainey said, releasing her hands and turning to look at Charity. “I hear tell you got an escort to the hospital by Pecan Valley’s sheriff, Braden Martinez. Not here a few hours and you’re already causing trouble.” She chuckled. “I see Braden’s here, Felicity. Isn’t that nice?”

  The question startled her. But then, conversation with Widow Rainey was always a little dizzying. “Yes…” Felicity managed, her gaze finding the man in question.

  “When did he get so hot?” Charity whispered for her ears only. “He sure didn’t look like that in high school.”

  Felicity swallowed a laugh. Braden Martinez had always been devilishly good-looking. Charity had been too focused on getting out of Pecan Valley to notice anything good about her hometown. But Sheriff Martinez appeared to be just as smitten with her sister as he’d been back then, his heavy-lidded eyes returning to Charity again and again. Poor Braden. Her little sister was more heartbreaker than homemaker—it was who she was.

  “Your mother says most of Pecan Valley’s dropped by to show their respect. Your family is loved, Felicity.” One of the widows patted her arm. In seconds, the widows went back to spilling all of the secrets of Pecan Valley.

  She kept her smile in place, appreciating the support but ready for a little less community love. Right now, she wanted to follow her kids upstairs and—maybe—have a nap.

  …

  Honor sat in the large, wingback chair before the picture window. Before Granddad and Mimi had moved to the cottage, this had been their room. The haunted room. That’s what she and Nickie called it. All dark wood, spooky corners, and thick, hide-behind curtains. Perfect for a ghost. Or monster. The sort of place they’d play rock-paper-scissors to avoid going to when Granddad or Mimi had asked them to get something. And, if they lost and had to go in there, they’d run as fast as they could—terrified something would jump out of the dark to get them.

  But after the divorce and they’d moved in, this had become Mom’s room. She and Nick had both supported their mother’s plans to gut it. Now it was all whitewashed wood; frilly linens; open space; cream, lavender, and cornflower accents; and an old crystal chandelier. The three of them spent hours together here, sprawled across the floor for homework or piled up on her bed to watch movies or talk. It had become a special place for them all. So, it made sense she and Nick were here, seeking escape from the craziness downstairs.

  Nick sat on the foot of the bed, his shoes kicked off, shoveling a massive piece of chocolate cake into his mouth.

  “Chew,” she murmured.

  Nick shoved the remainder of the cake into his mouth.

  She laughed, shaking her head.

  He grinned, chocolate covered teeth and all.

  “Do not get that on the bed,” she warned, grimacing as he made a huge show of licking the frosting off the plate. “Classy.”

  He finished with the plate, set it on the floor, and flopped back on the bed. “Think we’ll still take a vacation?”

  Honor stared out the window. The skies were turning dark, a summer storm rolling in. “I don’t know, Nickie.” There was a lot she didn’t know.

  Summer had just started. She had three months before she was supposed to move to Austin for college. It wasn’t enough time. She’d known exactly what she wanted since before she could remember. The Otto family had run the town pharmacy from the very beginning. She wanted to carry on her mother’s family tradition—as a pharmacist. Her full scholarship had guaranteed that would happen. But now leaving seemed wrong. How could she? “Where would you go?”

  “The beach. Mom always loves the beach,” he murmured. “Fishing, maybe.”

  The lump in her throat caught her by surprise. But so had Nick’s answer. Their father had taught Nick how to fish, wading out in the Gulf of Mexico to catch red drum, black drum, sand trout, and hardhead fish. Nick had always complained about going, said he hated it, but in the end he always went. And Dad had always said he lost twice as much bait as the fish they caught, but that hadn’t mattered. It was about their time together.

  “Sounds fun,” she managed.

  “A break would be nice. Away.” He shrugged. “Far away from all this crap.”

  She understood. The texts and phone calls had died down a little, but her world was still upside down. Things like going to the lake, parties, hanging out with friends—or going on a date with the ridiculously persistent Owen Nelson weren’t important. But, with Jack in the hospital, she wondered if a vacation was a possibility.

  “When do you start working?” she asked.

  Nick had spent the last two years working at the local summer camp as a counselor.

  “Not sure I’m going,” he answered. “I heard they’re trying to hire older kids now, for insurance purposes. Besides, Granddad said I could work in the store this summer.”

  Honor chewed the inside of her lip. Her mom was worrying about Nick—everyone was worrying about him. Where Honor had held on blindly to hope that they’d eventually find a place in their father’s life, Nick’s heartbreak had twisted into something ferocious and angry. And Dad couldn’t make any of this better now.

  Because Dad isn’t just off-with-his-new-family gone. He’s gone-gone. Forever. Dealing with that was…impossible.

 
“Are we hiding?” Their mother appeared, closing the door behind her.

  “Yes,” Nick said, unmoving on the bed.

  “Sorry, Mom. They just keep coming.” Honor wrinkled her nose.

  “I know they do.” Her mother shook her head. “So does the food.”

  “Looks like a storm is rolling in,” Honor said, pointing out the window. “Maybe everyone will head home?”

  “Or stay until it’s over,” Nick argued.

  Honor saw the smile her mother shot Nick. She looked beautiful in black. Tired, sure, but they all were. Still, she was there for them. Always. Until recently, she didn’t realize just how important that was. They were a team, the three of them. A wave of love washed over her, for her mother and her brother.

  “We can hope they head home,” her mother said, pulling the clip from her hair. She sat beside Nick, running her fingers through her long auburn hair. “There is some good news. I think we have enough food to last through Christmas.”

  “So, we’re good for a zombie apocalypse?” Nick asked.

  “Or a regular apocalypse, even,” Honor added, climbing on the bed beside them. “Zombies are so overdone.”

  Their mom laughed. “Either sort, we’ve got food. I need to load up the freezer in the garage, too. Waste not—”

  “Want not,” she and Nick chanted in unison.

  “Can I eat any of it?” Nick asked.

  “You’re not allergic to pecans, Nickie,” Honor reminded him.

  “She’s right.” Their mom sort of melted onto the bed, sighing.

  Honor lay down at her side, grinning as Nick scooted up the bed until he snagged a pillow.

  “I might be,” Nick argued. “If allergic means I think they taste like dirt.”

  Their mom laughed, making Nick smile and easing some of the weight Honor had been shouldering since the night of her graduation.

  “We’ll sort out the with-pecan from the pecan-free, just for you. And, if you promise not to tell Grams, we might even toss some of it.” Mom’s voice was soft, her yawn bone weary. “I love you guys.” She pressed a kiss to Honor’s temple, then Nick’s. “I’m here, okay? I know things are tough, I know you’re sad, but I’m here. We’ll get through this together. You know that, right? Whatever you need.”