Independence Day (18 page)

As Isabel led Muffin to the utility room, the cousins crowded around the sink, pushing each other in an attempt to be the one to use the spray nozzle.
More water got on the countertops and the floor than on their hands.

“Yeowwww!” The caterwaul and hissing from the utility room and the subsequent barking were clear indications Muffin had discovered the cats. Nick handed Eric to Chessie, then went to help Isabel. The cats were both on top of the furnace, and Muffin was straining against the hold Isabel had on his collar.

“He’ll have to come in the kitchen,” Nick said, grabbing an old towel from the rag bag. “He can’t go out in the barn with all those power tools.”

“We’ll put the cousins to work drying him,” Isabel said with a big grin. “That should be fun.”

Oh, it was. The dog loved it. The cousins loved it, especially Eric who crawled all over Muffin, helping dry the dog with his tiny overalls.

“You, mister, are soaking wet,” Nick declared, picking up the baby. “Let’s see if your mom packed you a change of clothes.”

Muffin plopped down under the table and fell asleep.

“Here’s the carry bag,” Chessie said. “You might as well change his diaper while you’re at it. Izzy and I will start the cousins on cookies.”

“Cookies, yum!” Gabriella exclaimed as she burst into the house with three teenagers in tow. “Hey, guys! This is Owen, Grady and Allie. We have to learn a new dance by rehearsal this afternoon, but the
quilters are using the Atlantic Hall. I said we could use our living room.”

“Now isn’t a good time,” Chessie protested as she tried to supervise Alex opening a five-pound bag of flour. Nina, Noah, Olivia and Isabel were helping themselves to the chocolate chips.

“We’d do it in the driveway, but it’s raining,” Gabriella explained. “And we really, really have to learn it by two this afternoon.”

“Honey,” Nick said, “we wanted her to get involved in a community project.”

“Okay.” Chessie wiped a smudge of flour from her nose and sneezed. “Far be it for me to stifle creativity.”

As Nick laid Eric on a changing pad on the dining room table, Gabby and her friends headed for the living room where he could hear them pushing back furniture and rolling up the rug. Within minutes the whole house was pulsing to the rhythm of rain on the roof and the music of
Grease.

He looked in the kitchen to see Chessie’s reaction. It was a fine line he was walking, and he didn’t want to push her over the edge. But Isabel was helping keep things chaotically fun. She’d started to sing along to the music and had gotten the cousins to join in. Soon their little fannies were waggling to the jitterbug beat as they knelt on their chairs to put their mark on the cookie-making process.

The house sounded like a YMCA on a Saturday and smelled like a kennel.

Isabel boogied into the dining room and picked up
Eric, now freshly diapered and sporting a dry pair of overalls. “Ask Mom to dance,” she nearly shouted in his ear.

He needed no further urging.

Coming up behind Chessie, he spun her around and began a bump-and-grind he didn’t know he had in him. The cousins stood on their chairs, applauding. When Chessie threw back her head and laughed, the sound filled Nick’s heart with joy.

If family life was messy, this was the best possible mess.

At noon his plan began to unwind on schedule. Pop and Jonas stopped in to say the shelves were built. A little later Mariah came by to say she’d take Muffin. The “painters never showed.” Kit stopped by not long after to say she’d take the four older cousins off their hands. Midafternoon, Isabel went to work at the lobster pound, and Gabriella and her friends traipsed off to their rehearsal. At three-thirty, Emily came to retrieve Eric.

And then there were two.

With a look of astonishment on her face, Chessie stumbled into the living room and collapsed on the sofa. “What a day!”

Nick sat beside her. “Listen,” he said.

“I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly.”

“Oh, this is lovely.” With a tremendous smile, she lay back against the sofa cushions and plopped her legs in his lap.

He took off her sneakers and her socks, then began to massage her feet.

“And this is divine!” She closed her eyes.

“It’s nice. Just the two of us.”

She opened one eye. “But for how long?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he insisted. “If we can sneak only ten minutes for ourselves out of a crazy day does it mean those ten minutes are less intimate than, say, a night out?”

She opened both eyes. “Are you finding a lesson in today?”

“Maybe. Was the experience so bad?”

She laughed. “Actually, it was fun.”

“And now?” He deepened the foot massage.

“This is heaven. Even if the whole gang bursts back in here in five minutes, these two minutes have been worth it.”

“I’m beginning to think intimacy isn’t quantitative. It’s comparative.”

She sat up, her expression suspicious. “Why, Nick, when did you become a philosopher?”

“Well, I—”

Unexpectedly, she straddled his lap and skewered him with those intense hazel eyes. “Or should I say scriptwriter?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Today.” She smiled and there was mischief in the tilt of her head. “Today reminded me of Gabby’s favorite bedtime story when she was little. A man seeks advice on curing the awful noise in his house. Seems
the bed squeaks, the floor creaks and the tree branches rustle against his windowpane.” She settled on Nick’s lap in a way she had to know tormented him. It wasn’t a bedtime story he wanted now.

But she continued in mock innocence. “The man was advised to get a cat, a dog, a chicken, a goat, a donkey, a cow and a horse and house them in his bedroom until the chaos nearly drove him crazy. But when he got rid of the livestock, the squeaky bed, the creaky floor and the rustling branch seemed oh, so peaceful.” She tweaked Nick’s nose. “Does that scenario sound familiar, oh, great philosopher?”

“I seem to remember it…”

She pressed her forehead to his. “Did you engineer today?”

“Some people throw laundry out the window to make a point…others create morality plays.”

With a whoop of laughter, she bopped him over the head with a sofa cushion. “That is so unlike you!”

“Did I make my point?”

“Which was…?”

“Actually, Pop reminded me when I talked to him a few days ago about deciding whether I should take that Atlanta job. He told me when things get complicated, clear away the clutter to the essentials.”

“So you thought you’d dramatize the process for me today?”

“Hey,” he brushed a lock of hair behind her ears, “you’re an artist. I thought you’d respond to a demo.”

“You surprise me. Every day.” Her look turned wistful.

“So what’s wrong?”

“Not wrong. But…throughout the chaos today, you were with me. When we have this baby, you’ll still be working six days a week.”

“Not necessarily. I talked to Richard Filmore about getting the board to fund a second assistant principal or administrative assistant. When Eleanor and Hattie heard, they promised to look into federal grant monies to fund what the board couldn’t.” He smiled and felt an old weight lifting from his shoulders. “That got me thinking. I have a highly capable staff. I need to delegate more. That’s my new resolution.”

“Wow.”

“Not only that, Emily gave me a list of reliable teenage babysitters plus the name of an agency that supplies part-time nannies. If you need more time for your work, we can budget.”

“Did Emily ask why you needed this list?”

“To get everyone’s help, I told them we’d be making a big announcement. Soon. They don’t officially know, but they
know.
Are you upset?”

She looked at him with love and admiration. “You’ve really thought this through.”

“Like it or not, you and baby McCabe are going to be seeing a lot more of me.”

“So you think you’ll be around for the sticky parts?”

“Many of them.” He crossed his heart. “Promise.”

“You’ll make time for the two of us?”

“Did I not get the entire cast to exit stage left and leave us these few minutes?”

“Dear Lord—” she raised her eyes heavenward “—what else is there to learn about my husband?”

“Chessie, I want us to raise this child together.”

She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him hard. When she looked him in the face, the worry lines across her forehead had disappeared, and her expression was filled with joy.

“So,” he asked, “can we officially tell the family about this new rugrat?”

She grinned. “Give me five more minutes of foot rub, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

L
ATER THAT NIGHT
Nick came up behind Chessie as she stood by the rain-drenched window and put his strong arms around her. She inhaled his freshly showered scent and thought back to the Fourth of July when she’d stood on this very spot and jettisoned the family laundry. When she’d struck what she’d thought was a blow for separating and distinguishing her wants and needs. How naïve she’d been. Nick had helped her realize that fulfillment came, not from separating ourselves from others, but from finding moments of strong connection to those we love and cherish.

“What’s the status on that no-sex ultimatum?” Nick asked, his voice low and husky in her ear.

“I wasn’t very good at it, was I?” She thought back to her willing participation in the shower days earlier.

“Then why’d you hit me with it? Just curious, in case you ever decide to use that strategy again.”

“I won’t.” She turned in his arms to face him. “I thought I was getting to what was fundamental to a man. To make you sit up and take notice. I’m ashamed to admit I tried to use sex as leverage to focus on me. But I underestimated you. And me. I love the intimacy of married sex. Need it. I nearly cut off my nose to spite my face.”

He chuckled. “So…ready for bed?”

“Yes and no.” She felt a tingle of excitement at the prospect of loving him. Of offering herself without strings, or baggage or ulterior motives. “That depends on what you’re planning to do there. Now, sleep would be a no…”

The smile that lifted the corners of his mouth was for her. The desire in his eyes was for her. There was no doubt in her mind that right now Nick saw and wanted her, only her.

“I love you, Chessie,” he said.

There were no simpler words. No sweeter declaration.

“I love you, Nick.”

He drew her away from the window and toward the bed. Slowly as if time had no meaning. With assurance he slid his hands under her T-shirt, skimmed her sides, lifted her arms and removed the bit of fabric in one fluid motion. The humid night air caressed her skin.

He sat on the edge of the bed and very deliberately pulled her to stand between his knees. His hands on her hips, he trailed kisses across her stomach, lazily unzipped her shorts and let them fall to the floor around her ankles. He pressed the side of his face to her abdomen. Above the baby. Their baby.

She wound her fingers in his thick dark hair and leaned against him, realizing fully that sex between a wife and her husband should not be a favor, a tool or a weapon. It was a mutual gift. Somewhere over the years, she’d lost that insight. She bent to kiss Nick’s brow.

He lay back on the bed, bringing her on top of him where she could gaze into his face. Trace his beloved features with her fingertips. The worry lines at the edges of his eyes were all but gone. She would safely bet he wasn’t thinking of work.

With a grin and a hungry glint in his eye, he turned his head quickly and caught the tip of her little finger with his teeth. Licked the pad with his tongue. Made her shiver. This was like the first time only better.

She moved on top of him. The towel around his hips fell away, leaving only the silkiness of her panties between them.

He pulled her into a kiss that began in languorous exploration and soon escalated to passion. Chessie felt seen and desired. Cherished. And that gave her the power to reciprocate, withholding nothing.

She kissed him for the past and for the present and for their shared tomorrow.

He entered her and with his body made a silent, indisputable promise that in everything that might happen the two of them would take refuge in each other.

Finding release, she cried out softly—for his ears only—and held him tightly as he shuddered then came to rest in her arms.

“I love you,” he breathed against her skin.

And wasn’t that what she’d wanted all along?

One year later

“T
AKE THAT
!” Wielding a cardboard sword, Gabriella lunged at the papier-mâché head of the dragon whose blanketed body undulated on three pairs of feet across the makeshift stage set up on the McCabe cottage’s lawn. The large audience of mostly four, five, and six-year-olds seated on the grass with their parents howled their approval.

Owen and Gabriella had devised the perfect summer job—adapting children’s books to plays and selling matinee tickets to the performances. Owen did the adaptations while Gabriella made the costumes. Both worked on scenery and acted, pulling various members of the McCabe clan in for minor parts. Today cousins Alex, Nina and Noah were playing the dragon, and, by the way in which they were cavorting on stage and drawing out the final confrontation scene, they seemed determined to milk every moment in the spotlight. Gabriella, upping the intensity of her attack, appeared to relish the improvisation. The production was
The Paper Bag Princess,
in
which the princess rescued not only herself but her prince as well.

Chessie, leaning back on her elbows in the cool grass next to Sophie’s carrier seat, smiled her approval. Sometimes the princess needed to take matters into her own hands. Gabriella certainly had this past year with her passion for the stage positively channeling most of her raging hormones. Most. There were occasional flare-ups just to make sure her parents hadn’t lost their edge.

Sophie reached over the side of her carrier seat and plucked a dandelion. Before it could reach her mouth, Chessie scooped up this daughter, who was such a daily surprise. And joy.

She nuzzled the baby’s soft, fragrant neck. “Are you hungry?”

Sophie cooed.

“Let’s go get you a bottle and see if Izzy needs anything.”

With a big grin Sophie pulled Chessie’s nose.

Leaving behind the sold-out crowd, Chessie danced with her five-month-old daughter in her arms, up the driveway to the gallery where Isabel was presently minding the store. Isabel had applied to and been accepted by Boston University where she’d be living in an apartment with five other girls, no less—in the fall. This summer she was working the gallery for Chessie during the days and, in the evenings with a select group of friends, frequented the Portland cafés that held open mike poetry readings.

As they entered the gallery, the bell above the
door tinkled, making Sophie’s eyes go round with wonder. That was one of the many blessings of this child—the reminder to find delight in the minute particulars of each day.

“How’s our girl?” Isabel came forward to take Sophie.

“Ready for her bottle. Can we bring you anything?”

“I’m fine.” Isabel cradled her baby sister, gently blowing on her wispy curls, making Sophie squint and wriggle in pleasure. “You go fix the bottle. I’ll wait here with Miss Squish.”

Chessie looked around the gallery with a sense of satisfaction. “How’s business?”

“Good. I sold a set of blueberry bowls, a hemp textured vase—the biggest one—and a birdbath.”

It hadn’t been easy finding time to care for an infant, create her pottery, conduct classes and run a gallery. But Nick and the girls had pitched in to make it all happen.

“And I could have sold the Goddess,” Isabel added. “Again.”

“Never.” Chessie smiled on the piece that held court on a pedestal in the center of the gallery. A constant reminder of the wide spectrum of her existence. From the pedestrian to the sublime. The challenge lay in savoring it all. “I’ll be right back.”

She was in the kitchen only a few minutes when she heard the side door open and close. “I’m home!” It was Nick.

He’d been home a lot this past year. He, Eleanor,
Hattie and Richard had engineered some extra money from the board as well as some federal grant funding to get another administrative assistant.

He lifted her off her feet and spun her around. “And beginning right now, I’m officially on vacation. Two weeks. Cell phone’s off. Eleanor’s in charge. I’m yours. Can you stand it?”

“I’ll try!” She laughed, then kissed him soundly, reveling in the few moments they could steal alone before they stepped out into the ever-widening concentric circles of love called family.