From Scratch (20 page)

Jane shot her a wicked glance over her shoulder as she passed the men coming back from the mud room.

“Hey, you stole our seats,” Joey whined.

“You are twenty-six years old, stop being a baby, Sprout.” Mac knocked him on the back of the head. Mac was the same height as his two younger brothers, but his frame was larger, thick and muscular where his brothers were lean. His dark hair, just graying at the temples, was cut short, not quite Sean's style, but definitely more corporate than Joey's carefree locks. He was three years older than Sean, but sun had weathered his face with deep laugh lines giving him a distinguished air. Women probably swooned for Mac Taylor.

Not her, of course. Maggie grinned.

Joey shoved Mac into the table of the breakfast nook rattling the decorative pumpkins in the center.

“Hey, watch it!” Sean clamped his arm around Maggie's shoulders, protecting her and the puppy.

“Yeah, ballplayer,” Jason pointed his finger at Joey. “My wife's a vessel. Don't make me go old school hockey on you.”

Millie smacked a kiss on Jason's cheek. “I love you, tough guy. But don't worry about me. I've gone a few rounds with little Joey in my day. I babysat him a couple times, he never crossed me again. Isn't that right, Joe-Joe?”

Joey's face shot through deepening shades of red before landing in the range somewhere between eggplant and passing out. He turned on his heel toward Bitsy, who held a wooden spoon in her hand. “Bits, you know he started it.”

She began tapping the spoon in the palm of her hand. “I don't care. You are twenty-six years old, Joseph Malone Taylor, and at some point in your life, you need to take responsibility for your actions and your reactions. I don't have time to deal with you right now. Go find Henry and the girls. They went looking for some dry leaves to make decorations, but they're probably at the tire swing.”

He rubbed his neck where his slightly unkempt hair brushed the collar of his shirt and nodded his head. “Yes, ma'am.” He scuffled his feet as he disappeared through the open doorway.

Bitsy turned with a sigh and pointed the wooden spoon in her son-in-law's direction. “Jake, go check on your son. He is probably awake from his nap.”

Jake nodded and nearly ran out of the kitchen.

Bitsy swiveled on her heel and marched over to Mac. “And you,” she said with a poke of the wooden spoon in his chest. “You know that awful nickname riles poor little Joey. He is a young man and you need to start respecting him.”

Mac's cheeks flared. “Yes, ma'am.”

She turned toward the table. “All of you need to respect him. He is not the little one trying to keep up anymore. Or the gangly boy whose arms and legs seemed to sprout faster than the rest of his body. He is an adult, as are each of you, and I expect you to start behaving like adults. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Sean, Millie, and Jason mumbled in unison.

“I mean, my heavens, what must poor Maggie think of all of you? She'll think I raised a house full of heathens and I will not have it.”

They all nodded.

She twirled and made her way back to Molly, who was vigorously whisking the gravy.

Millie started to giggle. “Man, it's like we're thirteen again.”

Sean chuckled and kissed Maggie on the forehead. “That look just comes out of nowhere and shames you back to acne and dirt bikes.”

“Never fails to put me in my place.” Mac plopped down beside Millie.

Lindy shimmied under the table. “I think I'll go help Jane.”

“'Fraidy cat,” Millie muttered.

He stood, wiped his hands down his jeans and shrugged. “If Bitsy's happy, everybody's happy.” He kissed his mother-in-law's cheek and whispered something in her ear before he went looking for his wife.

Maggie stroked the puppy that had fallen asleep.

Mac, Millie, and Sean began to share anecdotes about dinners at the farm, but she was having a hard time focusing. Her brain was trying to calm her heart and her stomach while keeping her feet from bolting out the door.

She never thought caring—loving—would cause this much fear in her spirit. Hearing all of the yelling, laughing, good-natured fighting, and emphatic discipline was almost more than her senses could handle. She knew she should be happy, joining in with laughter and stories of her own. She swallowed hard, fighting against the tears ready to spill over her cheeks and the worry of the hurt these new bonds might bring. She wasn't certain she could survive another loss, let alone dozens. She was falling in love with more than just Sean. In her life, love equaled death. And there were no happy endings in her stories.

~*~

Sean listened to Millie's long-winded story about a youth group pool party Jane and Molly had thrown when he, Millie, and Jane were twelve. He'd heard Millie's recounting of her organization of the girls throwing the boys into the pool more times than he had recited the Pledge of Allegiance. But the story was funny, at least, Millie's enhanced, somewhat embellished version. He chuckled as she began to describe the climax of the story with more enthusiasm. Was Maggie enjoying his childhood antics?

She was stroking little Gordie's fur with a slow steady rhythm, clutching him tight, not listening to a word Millie said.

“Hey, you OK?” he whispered in her ear. Fear was mirrored in her dulled, blue eyes. The same as when she'd held the knife on him. “Maggie?”

“I think I need a little fresh air.” She scooted from the bench and fled out the back door with the puppy, nearly colliding with Jane and Lindy, almost upending the tray of drinks he carried. She muttered a quick apology, but kept moving.

Lindy whistled. “Hey, Sean's not perfect, but no need to steal the dog.”

“Lindy…” Jane scolded.

He set the tray of drinks in the middle of the breakfast table. “What'd you do to the poor girl, Taylor?”

Jane patted Sean's shoulder. “Let her go for a little walk. The fresh air might do her some good. It must be overwhelming to be bombarded by all of this family…umm…charm.”

“But nothing happened. One minute we were sitting here laughing at one of Millie's stupid stories…”

“Hey, watch it, Taylor. I could never tell a stupid story. It's not possible. Right, sweetie?” she turned to her husband.

“Yes, dear.” Jason kissed her on the top of her head.

“See. You're the stupid-head, Taylor.” Sean waited for Millie to stick her tongue out at him, but was pleasantly disappointed when she sipped her water instead.

Jane slid in beside Sean. “Listen. We aren't the easiest bunch of people to be around. We are like a really bad opera, loud, fast-paced, and hard to understand. She'll come around. From the little bit she's told me about her life, I imagine it's been a long time, if ever, since she's spent the holidays with a large family. It was just her parents when she was growing up. She has an uncle, but I think he is more of a family friend than actual family. Give her time. Let her have a little break. OK?”

Mac rested his hip against a tall stool near the island. “Jane's right. Maggie seems like a real nice girl, but a bit skittish. Joe and I were only around her for a little while last night and she seemed pretty guarded. Sweet, for sure, but tense. Nervous. Can't imagine how whack it must be to meet your significant other's family for the first time, and then have to spend a holiday with them. Could be she just needed a break. But, if I'm not mistaken, there's a lot of layers under the surface of that girl. It's more than just nerves over Thanksgiving and our general obnoxiousness that's causing her to run. You sure you want to peel them back?”

“Definitely.” The thought of what he would find chased a chill up his spine.

16

The air was cooler than she anticipated. Maggie snuggled Gordie, taking in the late autumn yard dotted with leaves. She wished she could find her scarf and revel in the comfort the little strip would bring on a holiday. She had to let it go. She couldn't—wouldn't—accept the implication of her scarf being more than simply misplaced. The panic bubbling out of her was just the remnant of the years living in constant fear. Releasing a slow breath, she tightened her grip on the puppy. She shouldn't have run away.

Sean and his friends were having normal holiday conversations about normal life.

The kind of life she desperately wanted.

The puppy yawned and wriggled as he woke from his nap. He licked her chin, lapping her with sloppy kisses.

“OK, do you want to play?”

His kisses quickened in response. She set him down in the damp grass.

He ran, his feet moving faster than his legs, causing his head-over-heels tumble in the grass.

“Not much of a dancer, are you?” She squatted and patted the grass in front of her as the puppy charged forward.

“He better not be. He was named for Mr. Hockey and the dude might come and correct the dog if he becomes more of dancer than a fighter.” Sean's hands were shoved in his pockets.

She patted the dog on the head and tossed a tiny stick for him to chase before she stood. “Who's Mr. Hockey?”

“Don't let Jane or Lindy hear you ask that question. You'll be tortured with a dissertation on one of the greatest hockey players in modern history.”

“So,” she looked over her shoulder at the puppy that was systematically destroying the stick. “That's who the dog is named after? Some hockey player? You don't think it's a little weird that Lindy's niece named her dog after a hockey player?”

“Nope. Lindy's Canadian, so I'm assuming his niece is Canadian. They take hockey pretty seriously up there.”

“Oh…” Weird. Named the dog after a hockey player, huh…

“Maggie, I don't know if you are aware, but your new friend, Jane, is one of the biggest sports fanatics on the planet.” His smile was soft and teasing.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess we haven't talked about it much. When I first met her, it was through church, so that's mostly what we talked about. I knew she was married to a guy who worked for some hockey team, but I didn't realize she was a fan. We mostly talked about cookies and Jesus.”

He stepped closer and slid an errant curl behind her ear. His warm fingers trailed down her cheek and rested lightly on her shoulder, his touch warming her better than a steaming cup of hot chocolate. “Cookies and Jesus. Two of my favorites. I can see how sports wouldn't have come up.”

“I don't really know much about sports. I used to watch football, but that was a long time ago.” She bit her lip, dropping her gaze to the puppy.

“That's OK.” His voice was low and it melted through her. He lifted his other hand to her cheek and slid his fingers to her neck, gently stroking as he tilted her chin up, forcing her look at him. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I don't want to talk about sports, Maggie.”

“OK…” Her voice matched his tone.

“I want to know why you ran out of the house. What happened that scared you?”

Unseen ice sliced through her. Jerking away, she folded her arms across her middle and focused on the stumbling puppy. “I don't know what you mean.”

He placed a hand on each shoulder, his touch feather-light. “Yes, you do.” His voice was still low and laced with calm reassurance. “I want to understand. Help me understand.”

She felt a wet tear race down her cheek. She swiped at her face. She shouldn't be crying. She should be ecstatic. She was living her dream, one that she'd wished, hoped, and prayed for most of her adult life. And yet, she remained chained by irrational fears.

She pivoted and wrapped her arms around his waist and hid her face from the inquisitive gaze. “I'm being silly. I think I'm just tired and missing my mom and dad.” She closed her eyes and snuggled deeper into his warmth. He felt like an electric blanket on an endless blizzard night, and she was colder than the center of Antarctica—a cold that had little to do with the November weather. “I can get a little weepy at the holidays. It's so nice to be here with all of you. But it's just a little overwhelming.”

His hands glided up and down her back. “You aren't being silly. I miss my mom and dad every day. And the holidays are a hundred times worse. I am blessed to have my brothers and the Greys. I still have family to help bridge the gap and not allow me to feel so empty. You've not had that, at least not for a long while. I can understand why this could be difficult.” He kissed the top of her head. “I just want to make it a little easier.”

Tears pooled behind her tightly shut eyes. He was right, more right than he knew. She was a mess and he wanted to be with her in spite of that. Her nearness to them—to Sean in particular—made them targets. She couldn't be certain when, but she knew now that the monster was free, each of their lives were in danger. They were vulnerable and blissfully clueless.

“Maggie, I don't know what is going on in that mind of yours. I get really nervous when you go quiet.” His hand continued its soothing strokes. “I promise I'll protect you. Nothing you could ever say or do would make me love you less. Let me help you.” He pressed another soft kiss to her temple.

Slice. All of her resistance, her fears, and her secrets, all of it fell away in the safety of his arms. Sean would protect her. She knew it. Her champion. And he would protect everyone else, her whole family. She would help him.

“I love you, Sean.” Her voice was a whisper, barely audible through the rustling of the leaves and the growling puppy. But she knew he heard because his hand stilled on her back and he drew her tighter in his embrace.

He lowered his lips near her ear pressing a soft kiss just above her sweater. “I love you, too.”

A sigh rolled through her body. The fear, anxiety, and distress, tangled like a vicious web her entire adult life, evaporated in the breathing of one breath. She rested her chin to his chest. “Really?”