Love To The Rescue (19 page)

Amy felt her mouth fall open. “I never considered such a thing. Not consciously anyway, and I’m not superstitious or anything.”

“The possibility crossed my mind as you were telling me about your dad and stepdad.” Kevin brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes.

“Yeah, but what would be the chances of something like that happening?” Amy wrapped her arms around Kevin, protectively.

She had loved being married to Allan. Sharing her life with someone on a daily basis. True, they’d had their arguments and fought about silly things like all married couples did. But she never again wanted to endure the pain she’d experienced when he died. She’d never survive it.

But was avoiding marriage in order to prevent losing someone she loved deeply a ridiculous notion? Sacrificing what could be, fearful of what might happen, seemed completely foolish once she thought about it. Until this moment, Amy had never understood the expression, ‘the light bulb went on’. But suddenly she glimpsed her situation for what it truly was.

She’d rescued Rover after he’d endured pain and suffering at the hand of an abusive owner. She’d helped Sarah overcome the grief and depression resulting from her mother’s desertion and subsequent death by encouraging Sarah to spend time with Rover who made her so happy. And she’d lent a hand to assist Sarah with her schoolwork woes and dreams of joining Girl Guides. The possibility that Amy MacArthur required rescuing from her own lonely existence hadn’t crossed her mind.

But darn it all, perhaps she did require rescuing, whether she knew it or not. And just maybe Kevin was the man to accomplish that. And then her mind filled with doubts again. In real life, did anyone get a second happily ever after? Or did that just happen in romance novels?

Chapter 15

Amy stuffed the turkey back into the oven, tossed her potholders onto the counter, and glanced at her watch. Three-thirty. She grabbed her glass of wine off the counter, took a sip and leaned back against the island in her sunny kitchen. Her house overflowed with family and friends, and the Thanksgiving dinner preparations were moving along right on schedule.

“Gosh, it’s warm in here,” she observed aloud. She had even cracked open the window over the sink to keep the temperature bearable with the oven on all day, but the room felt like a sauna at a high-end spa. She strode across the kitchen and slid the patio door open a foot, welcoming the cool breeze that wafted inside.

Rover took the opportunity to sail out through the door for a quick romp in the backyard.

“Remind me to close that again in a half hour or so,” said Amy, smiling at the women gathered in her kitchen to help with the Thanksgiving feast. Every square inch of the substantial amount of counter space was occupied. She’d set out china and silverware, salad bowls, platters, and dessert trays to set the two dining room tables—one for the adults and one for the kids. The kitchen appeared to be in utter chaos, but Amy had everything under control.

“The aroma in here is worth the discomfort.” Aunt Amelia looked up from adding the final touches to her broccoli salad and smiled at her niece. “I’m so proud of you, Amy. You certainly inherited your stepfather’s love of cooking and entertaining.”

“Thanks, Auntie.” Amy felt herself beaming.

Robert MacArthur legally adopted her shortly after marrying her mother, and he’d been her father in every way from age eight to sixteen. She remembered the tears she’d seen in his eyes the first time she called him Dad, and she couldn’t have loved him more if he’d been her birth father. She’d taken his surname, even kept it after she married since she’d established her writing career and her name had become a brand by then.

He’d taught her to ride a horse, and later to drive a car. He’d read the riot act to her dates, frightening the daylights out of every young man brave enough to step into their living room and shake his hand.

“I hosted Thanksgiving today to provide Sarah with a happy holiday memory, similar to the get-togethers I loved as a child,” admitted Amy, glancing over Tiffany’s shoulder while she stirred flour into the gravy. “Thanksgiving was my stepfather’s favorite holiday. Having been raised in the U.S., Dad insisted on two celebrations. Our Canadian Thanksgiving in October and another in November. Thanksgiving isn’t nearly as big of a deal in Canada as it is to our neighbors to the south, but Dad enjoyed both holidays immensely.”

“I bet you miss him so much,” observed Tiffany.

“Especially on days like today. Dad would invite family, friends, and anyone from work he’d heard would be alone on the holidays to our home. Aunt Amelia, Mom, and some of mom’s friends cooked for days beforehand. I remember the sumptuous buffet that lined our dining room table on the big day. Everyone dished up a plate to overflowing and pulled up a chair, a stool, an ottoman, or even sat cross-legged on the carpet, and ate until they couldn’t fit in another bite.”

“My husband would be all over that. Dave loves to eat,” said Tiffany, chuckling.

“What man doesn’t love eating?” added Aunt Amelia.

“Dad would insist the gentlemen don the aprons, put the leftovers away, and wash the dishes, since the women worked so hard to prepare the meal.” Amy set a basket of rolls beside the microwave to warm up at the last minute. “But first he would serve the women coffee in the living room. Then he supervised the clean up in the kitchen. Inevitably, a contest involving snapping dishtowels broke out, and the guys realized they’d actually enjoyed their KP duty. While the men were up to their high jinks, the ladies separated into groups of four for card games or contests.”

“Sounds like so much fun. Speaking of fun, my kids loved those invitations you sent out, Amy.” Tiffany drained the huge steaming pot of potatoes.

“Let me mash those while you finish your gravy, Tiffany,” said Aunt Amelia, reaching for the potato masher.

“They were cute invitations, weren’t they?” Amy recalled the fun she’d had creating the homemade cards with images of turkeys, pumpkin pie, and horns of plenty on pale orange paper. She signed her name and used a blue inkpad to stamp Rover’s paw print on them as well. “Sarah called me, giggling hysterically on the telephone, delighted that Rover had signed her invitation. Too bad Mrs. Harris couldn’t attend.”

“Previous plans?”

“She’s spending the weekend with her sister. She sent Kevin and Sarah with a roaster filled with cabbage rolls. They’re in the oven keeping warm. Mrs. Harris is an exceptional cook, and you’re going to enjoy them.” Amy sipped her wine.

“I absolutely love cabbage rolls,” gushed Sally Wilson, invited to join the fun since her family all lived in Toronto. “I finished setting the table.”

Amy set her empty wineglass on the counter. “What’s next?”

“We’re almost ready to eat.” Aunt Amelia shook her head. “I cannot believe your house accommodates a sit down dinner for thirty people so easily.”

“One of the reasons Allan chose this house was the huge dining room. He loved to entertain. And setting up the kids’ table in the wide hallway away from any carpets works so well.” Amy grinned.

“I appreciate that with my four kids here,” added Tiffany.

Just then Leslie shouted from the front door, “We’re here!” As usual she just rang the bell and let herself inside since Amy and Leslie had swapped keys years ago.

“In the kitchen,” called Amy, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel before meeting her friends in the hallway.

“Sorry we’re late. I got an emergency call from a client—his water pipes burst in the basement—and I had to deal with it.” Rick kissed Amy’s cheek. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Same to you, Rick, and you’re not late. We won’t be sitting down to eat for another few minutes.” Amy reached for the glass bowl Leslie extended to her. “Your world famous coleslaw, I hope?”

“You wouldn’t allow me through the door otherwise,” teased Leslie, slipping out of her coat and hanging it in the overflowing closet.

“True,” admitted Amy, laughing. “Come on in. I think you know everybody, but if not, introduce yourself.”

“I could smell that turkey half a block away.” Leslie inhaled deeply.

“My stomach’s been growling for an hour already,” Amy called over her shoulder on her way back to the kitchen.

“When’s supper ready, Amy? I’m hungry.” Sarah raced into the kitchen with Rover on her heels. She wore a dark blue velvet party dress and shiny patent shoes. Sarah peeked under the foil at the carved turkey, and a small hand with pink-polished fingernails reached out and swiped a piece of white meat off the corner of the platter.

“Careful you don’t burn yourself,” warned Amy. “I just carved that and some of those pieces could be hot still.”

Sarah peeked across the island at Leslie and swiped a pickle out of the dish with her other hand. “I know, Amy. ‘Be patient young lady.’ You always say that.”

“We’ll eat as soon as Tiffany finishes the gravy, okay?” Amy shooed the child and the dog out of her kitchen. “Go find the other kids and all of you wash up. I’ll be calling everyone to the table in five minutes.”

Leslie poured herself a glass of wine from the assortment of open bottles lining the bar area in the dining room. She turned toward Amy, chuckling.

“What do you find so amusing?” inquired Amy, setting the platter heaped with carved turkey on the sideboard already straining from the holiday feast.

“You sounded like a mother just then, dealing with Sarah.” Leslie sipped her wine. “I always knew you’d be a great mom some day.”

Amy smiled, appreciating her friend’s observation. “She’s such a good kid.”

“Her father is pretty special, too. Is he working today, or is he here somewhere?”

“Downstairs playing pool with the guys. He traded shifts with another officer who ‘owed him one’ from this summer.” Amy couldn’t disguise her happiness. “I’m so thankful he could share this day with us. No pun intended there.”

“Come and get it!” called Tiffany, and then she carefully entered the dining room maneuvering two gravy boats in her hands. “Where do you want these, Amy? Right on the dining room table?”

“On this side table, please. I left you a spot beside the bowl of mashed potatoes.”

“Thank you. Everything’s ready now.” Tiffany stood back, hands on hips, admiring their feast. “You realize it has taken days to prepare all this. These people are going to inhale it in less than a half hour.”

“Yeah, I know, but think of the compliments we’ll receive.” Amy whispered, wistfully. “Before Mom’s plummet into depression after my stepdad’s death, she thought cooking for her family and friends was a woman’s ultimate show of love.”

While Amy spoke, Kevin poked his head into the dining room. “Is the ultimate show of love ready to serve? If I don’t eat soon, I’ll go deaf listening to my stomach grumbling.”

“You poor thing. Call everyone to the table and make sure the kids have washed their hands, please.” Amy smiled.

He smiled back and she saw his love for her in his eyes. He blew her a kiss and then headed down the hall, shouting encouragement to everyone to hurry up and get seated.

“Demonstrating my undying love was the last thing I was thinking about while standing at the sink for over an hour, back aching, peeling potatoes and cleaning carrots.” Tiffany grinned. “I can’t keep it to myself any longer, ladies. I’m pregnant again.”

“Congratulations.” Amy smiled.

“Number five.” Leslie gaped, incredulously. “I don’t know how you do it, but I couldn’t be happier for you.”

“Thank you. I thought sharing the blessed news today was only fitting.”

“What news is that?” asked Uncle Jimmy, entering the dining room.

Tiffany filled him in.

“I’ll add a few words to my blessing if you’d like.” Uncle Jimmy beamed at Amy’s friend. He always insisted on saying grace at these family get-togethers.

“It’s still a secret. I just shared with my two best friends.”

Uncle Jimmy zipped his lip with his fingers. “Won’t say a word then. But I’ll whisper a silent prayer for your little one.”

“That means a lot to me.” Tiffany’s eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, no. Are you one of those women who cry for nine months straight?” teased Leslie.

“Shush,” ordered Amy. “I think she’s entitled.”

The sumptuous meal proved a resounding success. A couple of guys discreetly let out a notch on their belts just after Amy served dessert, and several people groaned when they rose from the table.

Later, Kevin snuck up behind Amy in the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her middle, while she stood at the sink washing the crystal wine glasses and silver cutlery she never trusted to the dishwasher. “Good God, do you women cook like this every holiday? If Christmas doesn’t fall on one of my days off, I’m trading shifts with another officer again.”

“Excellent idea, Constable Robertson. We’d miss you terribly if you couldn’t join us,” said Tiffany, wiping down the kitchen table.

“Daddy, I’m ready,” announced Sarah stepping into the room while struggling into her sparkly ski jacket.

“I promised Sarah we’d take Rover for an early evening walk around the neighborhood to wear off dinner.” Kevin helped his daughter into her coat. “Some of the husbands and kids are coming along. Care to join us?”

“Are you nuts? These women have been on their feet all day setting tables and cooking up a storm. Now, you want them to go for a walk!” Leslie threw a dishtowel at his head. “We’re sitting down with a cup of Baileys-laced coffee or a hot cup of herbal tea and putting our feet up for at least an hour.”

“Most definitely,” seconded Amy. “Enjoy your walk. You know where I keep the doggie poop bags and Rover’s leash. Go for it!”

“Enjoy your drinks, ladies, you’ve earned them.” Kevin pecked Amy’s cheek. And then he whispered for her benefit only, “Thank you for making the holiday so special. I understand now how your stepfather felt all those years ago. See you later, beautiful.”

“Thank you,” croaked Amy, her voice constricted with emotion.

Kevin grinned, wickedly. “I’m just thankful you didn’t insist on that tradition of the guys doing the washing up.”

“I forgot about that!”