After The Fall: A collection of Matt and Abby short stories

by Claudia Connor

  They came down quickly then, one behind the other, in their matching Christmas pajamas. Red with brown reindeer and white snowflakes. Charlie and Jack had bottoms and tops. The girls had long sleeved gowns that matched Mary’s.

  Matt backed up the video camera to an angle that would capture the entire show—he’d practiced last night—then after capturing them at the top of the stairs, he set the camera down and swung each child off the bottom step with a kiss.

  “Merry Christmas,” he said, setting each one down.

  Abby did the same then followed them to the hearth where they took it all in.

  “A bike!” Jack yelled, running to a black bike with bright yellow trim.

  A little big for him but Matt was confident he’d grow into it. Annie and Gracie crouched beside a white baby doll crib and changing table set. Not touching anything yet, not even Gracie, just looking with a light in her eyes that made everyone wish they had little ones on Christmas morning.

  Mary wasn’t happy so Abby freed her, thinking to let her start pulling things out of her stocking. Instead she went right to Santa’s plate of cookies and scavenged for leftovers. Matt knelt, bending until he was at her level and snapped a picture.

  Matt helped Jack ride his bike to the kitchen and back, just to give him the thrill of sitting on it, testing out the seat height. The girls ran upstairs for their dolls and came back with their arms full. Charlie, with Mary’s help, pulled every present from under the tree. Something they’d both wanted to do for weeks.

  Wrapping paper, ribbon, and joy filled the room and when the timer went off they took a break for breakfast. There were presents and then there was monkey bread with all it’s caramelized sticky goodness. And something they only had once a year. One of their traditions. They’d made a lot of those this first year. Traditions and memories.

  After breakfast, they opened the rest of the presents, then with coats and boots over pajamas, went outside. Charlie had a new ball to kick around and Matt helped the girls drag the soccer goal out.

  But there was something else in the backyard. Something that had been obscured by the trees, but now she saw it clearly. Abby stopped and stared. “What?”

  A pale blue playhouse with a white railing along the front porch stood in a corner of the yard. Close enough to the maple that it would give it shade in the spring and summer. Real black shingles covered the roof and white shutters flanked windows on either side of the little front door.

  “I thought the kids would like it,” Matt said evenly, as they ran for it, but she could feel his gaze on her as she stared at the little house.

  She’d mentioned it once, just once, a playhouse just exactly like this one. She’d never had one, but had seen one from afar in the back yard of one of her foster family’s neighbors. She’d never been invited over to play in it. That particular foster family were not the type to be invited over by neighbors.

  Matt took her cold hand in his warm one. “I thought you’d like it, too.”

  She couldn’t even remember now why she’d told Matt about it, had figured she’d built it up in her mind. But this was real. This was the perfect dream of a little girl.

  “I love it,” she said, wiping at the tears sliding down her cheeks.

  “Mom! Come see!”

  She gave a watery laugh, then smiled at Matt, her heart. Her love. She squeezed his hand. “I really love it. And I really love you.”

  The end

  I hope you enjoyed these moments with Abby, Matt, and all the kids. Keep you eye out for more stories and perhaps even a full length novel, Worth The Fall, Part 2.

  Xoxo

  Claudia

  Claudia Connor

  New York Times Bestselling Author

  ClaudiaConnor.com

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  About the Author

  Claudia Connor is an award winning New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Contemporary Romance. Claudia attended Auburn University, where she received her undergraduate and masters degrees in early childhood education. When she's not writing, she enjoys movies, reading, and travel, with a heavy dose of daydreaming during all three. Claudia lives near Memphis, Tennessee, with her husband and three daughters.

  You can find out more about Claudia’s books at ClaudiaConnor.com. Join the reader fun on Facebook HERE!

  WAITING ON THE RAIN

  Chapter One

  Luke Walker stood in the bathroom of Marco’s Supper Club men’s room, staring at himself in the mirror as the cold water ran over his hands.

  He’d crawled through South American jungles when he was barely old enough to qualify as a man, tumbled out of airplanes, and blown doors with blocks of C-4. He’d eaten sand in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Turkey and a few more places the US government wouldn’t want him to admit he’d ever been.

  At times it was fun, the training, the adrenaline rush, the bullshitting with the guys. Other times it was haunting.

  But there was always another day. Morning came and there was another mission. That’s why guys hated going on leave. Not because they didn’t want to see their families but because if you didn’t keep it tight, keep moving, planning, reloading, the darkness could creep in. As brave as they were, they feared being smothered by that darkness. And that’s where he was now, where he’d been the past few months.

  Retirement, permanent leave. Trying not to get smothered and doing his damnedest not to let it show.

  At the moment he was trying not to let it show as he washed baby barf out of his dress shirt. There’d been too many toddlers and babies belonging to his little brother’s wedding party to not have one tossed at him. So, with the women in the wedding party posing for pictures, he’d gotten the barfing one.

  Hard to believe a human who weighed less than twenty pounds could contain so much…stuff. He was an Army Ranger for God’s sake and had smelled some acrid stink, but this was getting to him.

  The bathroom door opened, letting in the sounds of a wedding reception in full swing.

  “Hey, man.”

  Luke gave a head nod to the man as he passed on his way to the urinals. He squeezed out his dress shirt then held it under the hand dryer. His undershirt could probably use a good wash as well but the scars of war brought looks, if not questions, neither of which he was in the mood for.

  Ten minutes later he was back at the makeshift bar, watching his younger brother bump hips with his new bride. The happy go lucky jokester who never met a lady he didn’t like now settled down with a kid. Nora’s, and now officially Zach’s. A cute little guy who was somewhere between one and two and who’d stolen the show toddling down the aisle as ring bearer.

  They seemed in love, Zach and his new wife. Wife. Good, Lord. He shook his head at the thought. His older brother Nick had a wife now too. His baby sister, Hannah, was one. And this was life, he thought, taking a sip from the cold amber bottle. This was normal. People meeting, people linking up with one another. And today’s normal had been a small wedding in a Catholic Church followed by a reception at a supper club that served a lasagna dinner then offered a makeshift bar and parquet dance floor.

  “This next one is a ladies only dance,” the band leader announced. “If you’ve got man plumbing get yourself off the dance floor.”

  The band moved into a new tune. The females at the bar whooped and laughed, pushing their drinks into the nearest man’s hand so they could throw themselves into the shifting shaking mass of women singing about respect, spelling out the word.

  Women filled the dance floor as quickly as the men vacated. A mass of white dress shirts, in various degrees of tucked, the ties around their necks loosened, if not lost altogether. He’d left his own penguin suit choker on his assigned table. And nearly every one of them made a bee–line to the bar.

  Some he recognized as Zach’s fire station buddies, others were part of the McKinney clan his sister had married into. The noise around him ratcheted up as the men
called for their drinks. The quick moving bartenders set small plastic cups and bottles on the bar, serving everyone as fast as they called out their order. Nothing said party like an open bar at a wedding. As much as he wished, it just didn’t say it to him.

  He’d been easing into civilian life for months now. Or trying. Maybe not trying hard enough since the civilian skin didn’t fit quite like his Ranger skin had. But then he hadn’t been non-active military for more than twenty years. He’d been a kid when he’d signed up. A wild, immature, overly emotional kid with a chip on his shoulder so deep he was shocked he’d been able to hold a rifle. But he had.

  He’d held a rifle and held it steady. He’d learned to navigate— day or night— run obstacle courses, and rucked miles until a lot of the anger had been sweat out of him or buried under exhaustion. Maybe that’s why civilian life was hard.

  He checked his watch. Almost nine. He figured at least two more hours before the bride and groom departed. The day had begun with a wedding party brunch at eleven this morning and his duties as groomsman hadn’t slowed since then. He’d surpassed his social limit hours ago.

  He perused the other side of the room dotted with large round tables where he’d survived the seated dinner portion of the evening. White table cloths, spindly green and pink floral somethings sticking up out of skinny glass tubes in the center of each one. Kinda cool, he thought, though it hadn’t blocked him from even one of the nine people seated with him. Might have been better altogether if he’d built a walled garden around himself, like the folders he’d set up as a child when the class took a test.

  But he’d nodded, even forced a smile when appropriate and tried his best to look like everyone else when on the inside he still felt gritty with sweat after operating in a middle eastern sandbox.

  He’d been firm on not bringing a date and gave points to his sister the wedding planner. She hadn’t pushed. Instead she’d paired him up with one of the bride’s coworkers who was old enough to be his grandmother. Another point for Hannah.

  There’d been a time when his hormones had raged and the thought of bridesmaids would have made him think good time. Now there was nothing raging. His blood didn’t run hot or cold. Sometimes Luke wondered if it was running at all.

  Not for the first time, he looked around him and thought what the hell was he doing here? Not in the building, or in the state of Virginia, but in the country.

  Was it too late? Could he call his commander, tell him April fools? Just joking? Why had he thought he could be anything other than a soldier? But he had thought that. Or had thought he wanted, that he needed, to try.

  His gaze skimmed over the room. Most of the women were on the dance floor while a scattering of people sat at one of the large round white cloth covered tables. Older couples, one he recognized as Zach’s fire chief and the chief’s wife. A blonde sitting alone, nursing a drink, not facing the dance floor— which was odd with all the commotion going on. This place was a people watching gold mine, if you were into that kind of thing. Maybe she wasn’t. Maybe like him she was feeling the sensory overload. He couldn’t see much of her. Just her back with her long, pale hair flowing down, past the top of the chair.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Luke saw Nick make his way over to the bar. He ordered himself a beer and gave Luke a chin jerk in greeting. They stood like that, side by side, facing opposite directions. To say they’d butted heads way back when, would be putting it mildly. At seventeen, Luke had had no interest in listening to Nick, his nineteen-year-old newly appointed guardian.

  Nick got his beer and turned to look out over the room, taking a long swallow from his drink. Luke noticed his brother scanning the room, locating each of his three babies before he spoke. “Holding up the bar or drinking it dry?”

  Nick’s tone was easy, not accusing so Luke tamped down his automatic bristling at his brother’s question. Told himself not to read too deeply into it. Before he came up with a response, Zach was there.

  “My man!” Zach shouted as he hooked an arm round Luke’s neck. “I’m going to need you to kick it up a notch. Turn that frown upside down.”

  Zach pivoted, turning them both back to the dance floor. When his gaze zeroed in on his bride, a goofy grin spread across his face as he watched Nora move. “That’s my wife,” Zach said. “I love saying that —my wife.”

  It was a wonder his grin didn’t split his face. Luke couldn’t really imagine being that happy. It was kind of creepy.

  One of Zach’s fire station buddies who’d also been in the wedding party joined them and rolled his eyes. “How many times can you say 'my wife?’”

  “More than you,” Zach said to his single friend. “And hey, without Dallas, that makes you the only single brother. Hey, Nick.” Zach leaned across him. “Luke’s the only single bro on the premises.”

  Nick raised an eyebrow at Luke then cut his eyes to Zach.

  Luke raised a finger to the nearby bartender. “Can we get some water over here?” It wasn’t the first time he’d thought of Dallas being absent today and hoped Zach wasn’t hiding too much disappointment at his twin not being here for his big day. Dallas, the quiet thinker, the introverted scholar, who’d shocked them all by going to police academy, then taken a job offer up north. And was now deep undercover and pretty much out of contact.

  The bartender filled two clear plastic cups, set them on the bar.

  “Drink some water, Romeo,” Nick said. “Don’t want you disappointing your bride tonight.”

  “What?” Zach picked up one of the waters. “Lot of women here. Can’t you get even one to dance with you.”

  “Not trying,” Luke said.

  “I don’t think you could get a girl to dance with you if you were. Not with that scowl on your face.” He downed one of the waters and started on the second.

  “Maybe not.” He didn’t feel like he was scowling. It was just his face, but he mustered up a smile for his brother.

  “I love you, man.” Before Luke could dodge, Zach grabbed him in a head lock and planted a kiss on his face.

  “Okay. Maybe some more water.”

  “Nope. Don’t need it. I’m high on love.”

  Luke could only shake his head. The band ended the ladies only dance and called the men back out onto the floor. The men obliged, maybe because the women were all dressed up, slightly tipsy, and dancing in heels.

  “I’m going to dance with my wife.” Zach finished his second water and joined his bride, but not before he reached into his wallet and slapped a crisp bill on the bar in front of Luke. “A hundred says you can’t get one woman to dance with you.”

  Luke just stared at it.

  “He’s going to regret that,” Nick said with a shake of his head.

  “Yep. If he remembers.” Luke slid the bill into his pocket with every intention of keeping it for his brother. Or maybe he’d slide it into the cash box on the gift table.

  Nick’s wife Mia curled a finger at Nick in a come hither gesture, as she made her way to the bar. She took the beer from his hand, downed a swallow and handed it back. “Who’s got the babies?”

  “One of Nora’s coworkers there,” Nick said, pointing with the bottle. “The others are with Mrs. McKinney and… whoever that is sitting beside her.”

  “It’s not every day we have a hundred hands ready and willing to hold babies.” Mia took the beer again and finished it, then set the empty bottle on the bar. She took her husband’s hand. “Let’s make it count.”

  Luke watched them go back to the dance floor. He’d always liked Mia, all the way back to when she and Nick had first started dating in college. She’d come into the picture soon after their parents had been killed in a car accident and had brought a bit of soft, but fiery, female to the house. She’d also seemed to get Luke in a way no one else had.

  He was glad to see them back together and it was fun to watch such a tiny little thing keep his brother in line. One by one the bar flies thinned out, leaving Luke alone. He nursed his beer, t
hinking he’d like to switch to straight whiskey which led him to think he’d like to be drinking that straight whiskey alone. But he wouldn’t. He was afraid to start a slide down that slippery slope. He’d known more than one good man who’d left the military only to find new demons.

  Don’t think about it. Not now. Not at his little brother’s wedding. If he thought too hard, let the feelings or the knowledge of just how numb he felt, he might go for that whiskey.

  He’d held it together all day. Family, food, smiling for the camera in constricting clothes. Kids running, wiggling, adults of all sizes talking over the music, laughing. Things that shouldn’t seem foreign to him but they did. Which made him feel even more like a fish out of water.

  He nearly smiled, picturing a fish flopping on land, gulping and gasping for air. Described him pretty well. And made him wonder again, what the hell am I doing here?

  Luke watched Matt McKinney dancing with one of his little girls. Impossible to keep them straight—the man had something crazy, like seven kids. This one looked to be around six or so and had a wild head of brown curls. She’d served as a flower girl in the wedding. Luke couldn’t help but smile when he saw she’d lost not just her crown of flowers but her shoes too. Matt held the little girl’s hand, guiding her in a spin around his finger.

  The man looked exactly right doing it. Enjoying himself, completely at ease. But Matt had also been in the military, so was he a sign that normal was within reach for men like them, or was he a glaring example that Luke wasn’t made like that?

  He’d been around the McKinney’s a handful of times. The man brought his girl out to ride at Hannah’s barn pretty regularly and his sister had mentioned Matt no less than ten times since Luke had been back.

  You know, Stephen’s brother Matt was in the military.

  You know, Matt McKinney left the Navy after almost as many years as you.