Wild Iris Ridge (Hope's Crossing) (9 page)

* * *

D
INNER
. W
ITH
L
UCY
and all this uncomfortable subtext shimmering around them.

Once more, his life felt like a Hail Mary pass spiraling toward him way out of reach, completely beyond his ability to control.

How in the hell had that happened?

He had no idea how to tell Lucy he would rather she didn’t come with them to dinner. He suspected she knew yet had agreed to come, anyway, for reasons that baffled him. As usual. Most of the things Lucy did baffled him.

It was too late now, so he would just have to make the best of the situation.

“Come on, kids. Let’s wash up.”

He shepherded the kids to the bathroom off the kitchen and supervised while they scrubbed fingers and the few smudges of dirt on their faces.

When they returned to the graceful living room—Annabelle always called it her parlor—Faith immediately opened her book while Carter headed for the bottom drawer of an old carved-leg chest where Annabelle always kept die-cast cars and trains and dolls for visiting children.

They were very good at entertaining themselves—one of the greatest blessings of parenting these particular two little creatures, he had always thought. Their preoccupation left him free to look around the room. He spotted a thick notebook and what looked like a stack of fabric samples and color palettes on the coffee table.

He picked up one of the books and was leafing through it when Lucy returned looking fresh-scrubbed and pretty. His gut twisted, but he told himself it was just hunger.

He and Carter both needed to be fed at regular intervals.

He held up the sample book. “You’re serious about the bed and breakfast, then.”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because I never thought you wanted any more ties to Hope’s Crossing. You seemed in a big hurry to leave, back in the day, first to college and then Seattle.”

“I was never running away from Hope’s Crossing. Just running
to
something else. There’s a big difference.”

“And now you’re back.”

“For now,” she said, and he told himself that little stomach twist
this time
was relief.

“We’re all different people, aren’t we?”

“For what it’s worth, I’m definitely serious about the bed and breakfast. If all goes according to plan, I’m hoping to have guests here by the Fourth of July.”

“I hope it works out for you,” he answered.

“Are we ready
now?
” Carter asked, apparently at the end of his tether.

“I’m ready,” Lucy said.

“Let’s go, then.”

The children chattered with Lucy all the way out to the car and after they took off. He didn’t think Carter even stopped to take a breath in the ten minutes it took to drive downtown and find a parking space near the Center of Hope Café—while he just tried not to think about how strange it was to have someone sitting beside him in the passenger seat again.

The moment they walked together into his pop’s restaurant, he knew he had made a huge mistake.

Dermot stood behind the counter speaking to a customer. When he spotted his son and grandchildren, his eyes lit up with the usual warm delight—and then he spotted Lucy walking with them and his expression shifted almost comically. Shock, delight and something that looked suspiciously like hope gleamed in Dermot’s eyes.

Crap. The last thing he needed was for Pop to get the wrong idea about him and Lucy and start spinning any little matchmaker schemes. He was having a tough enough time reminding himself that he wasn’t ready for this yet. He didn’t need added pressure from his father.

“Hi, Grandpop!” Faith beamed at Dermot. “Can we sit in our usual spot?”

Dermot walked around the counter and knelt down to kiss his granddaughter on the cheek and solemnly shake hands with Carter, as he always did. “You certainly may, my darlin’. I’ve been saving that table just for you.”

“Did you know we were coming?” Carter asked, eyes wide.

“Well, no, now that you mention it. Maybe I was hoping, though.”

The children giggled at his Irish malarky, which he had in abundance.

“And Lucy, my dear. How lovely to see you again. How are you getting along in that big old house by yourself?”

“So far, so good,” she answered, kissing him on the cheek and earning a delighted blush in return.

Brendan hadn’t been joking when he told her half the women in town adored his father. The truly humbling thing about Dermot was that he didn’t even have to try. He showed genuine interest and concern for everybody, and people responded instantly.

Dermot led them to their favorite spot, a booth in front of the window, where they could watch any excitement on Main Street while they waited for their food.

“Tonight’s special is the macaroni and cheese. A particularly good batch, if I do say so myself. I experimented with a little Gruyère cheese tonight, on Alex McKnight’s recommendation.”

“Oh, that sounds delicious. I think I’ll have that,” Faith exclaimed, as if she even knew what Gruyère cheese was. Hell, Brendan barely knew what it was.

“Not me!” Carter sang out. “You know what I want, Grandpop.”

“Hmmm. Liver and onions again? Or my special fried worm stew?”

“Ewwww. No! Pizza. Pizza. Pizza. With pepperonis and a smiley face.”

“I think I can manage that. Son. You?”

“I’m in the mood for a Reuben tonight, in a fog.”

Dermot beamed, as he always did when his children—or other customers—used diner slang.

“In a fog?” Lucy asked with a baffled look.

“It means with a side of mashed potatoes,” Brendan explained.

“Ah. Well, is there a way to say I’ll have a grilled chicken wrap with a side salad?”

“You just did, my dear.” Dermot grinned. “Coming right up. And to drink?”

Brendan was tempted to ask for a good, stiff whiskey, but Dermot didn’t carry a liquor license at the café. The kids had chocolate milk and he and Lucy both requested water with lemon.

“Excellent,” Dermot said. “Now, which of my darling grandchildren would like to come in the back with me and help me put the pepperonis on a certain pizza?”

“Me!” Carter exclaimed, jumping up.

“Oh, may I come, too, Grandpop?” Faith asked.

“Of course! The more the merrier! Come along, then.”

The children slid out again, and Brendan was tempted to go along with them as soon as he realized their absence left him alone with Lucy. They were seated on opposite sides of the booth, and without the children’s buffering presence, it felt entirely too much like a date.

As soon as the laughing trio headed for the kitchen, an awkward silence descended. Brendan blurted out the first thing that came to his head. “I thought I saw your father today, driving down our street.”

He knew at once by the way her mouth tightened and her hands clasped in front of her that the subject wasn’t a comfortable one.

“That’s certainly possible,” she answered, avoiding his gaze. “He stopped in this afternoon for an unexpected visit.”

“You don’t sound pleased.”

She appeared fascinated by the weave of her place mat. “Not particularly.”

He should change the subject, but he couldn’t come up with an alternative on the fly. Give him a break, he hadn’t been on a date in about a decade. Not that this was a date or anything.

She had thanked him earlier for mowing the lawn and said she had a rough day and needed a little kindness. Did that have to do with her father?

“He must be happy you’re back in Colorado.”

“Why would you think that?” she asked, her tone stiff.

“Well, he drove all the way from Denver to say hello, didn’t he?”

She made a noise that wasn’t quite a snort. “Something like that,” she answered.

She was quiet for a long time, and he started racking his brain to come up with another topic of conversation, until she finally spoke. “He came to ask me to let my half sister stay with me. She’s fifteen years old and...troubled.”

“And he wants you to take her?”

“My father is very good at finding someone else to deal with the messes in his life. Annabelle took me, didn’t she?”

“You consider yourself one of the messes in your father’s life?”

“He certainly did. I hit those rebellious teen years just as he was marrying for the second time and settling down. I was what you might call a difficult child, especially after my mom’s death.”

Her mother had committed suicide. He knew that from Jess and felt an unexpected wave of sympathy for the confused and grieving teenage girl she must have been.

“I was moody and angry all the time, had a pathologically difficult time following rules and didn’t get along at all with my father’s second wife.”

“Understandable, after everything you went through.”

“Not according to the great Robert Drake. So he somehow talked Annabelle into taking me in.”

He could imagine that had felt very much like another abandonment to her. First her mother escaped her obligations and left behind a world of pain by taking her own life, then her father chose his new wife over his own daughter.

He couldn’t even imagine it. His children were his life.

“It worked out okay for me, I guess,” she said. “Once I was away from that environment, I did better and remembered I actually liked school, when I wasn’t trying to hand my dad a screw-you along with every report card. I made it through high school and went on to college.”

“You worked hard and were successful because of it.”

She looked surprised at his words. “I guess he’s hoping maybe history will repeat itself with Crystal.”

“Did you agree to take her?”

She fiddled with her silverware. “Conditionally. I’m giving her two weeks to see how she likes Hope’s Crossing and living with me.”

“And then what?”

“We’ll have to see how things go.” She was quiet for a minute. “It’s going to be a disaster, isn’t it?”

After more than a decade as a firefighter and emergency medical technician, he had dealt with enough accident victims to recognize the thready note of panic in her voice.

“Don’t worry. You’re going to be great,” he answered, in the slow, measured, calm tone that usually helped in these situations.

“How do you know?” she demanded. “What do I know about being responsible for a teenage girl? I’ve never even had a pet!”

“I know, because I’ve seen you with my kids,” he answered. “You love them and they adore you. I’ve let you stay with them and I would completely trust you to do it again. That’s about as ringing an endorsement as a guy like me can make. Relax. You’re going to be great with your sister, Lucy. You obviously care about her or you wouldn’t have agreed to do what your father asked. As far as I’m concerned, that’s half the battle when it comes to kids.”

She drew in a breath and he could see some of the panic begin to fade. “Thanks. I appreciate you talking me down. I might need another pep talk before these two weeks are up.”

“Anytime,” he murmured as the kids returned with Dermot—and he was shocked as hell to realize he meant the words.

CHAPTER EIGHT

A
S
THEY
WAITED
for their food, Lucy talked and laughed with the children and tried to do her best to figure out why she felt as if in those brief moments of conversation, something significant had shifted between them.

His words seemed to settle inside her, warming and calming her.

I’ve seen you with my kids. You love them and they adore you. I’ve let you stay with them and I would completely trust you to do it again. That’s about as ringing an endorsement as a guy like me can make. Relax. You’re going to be great with your sister.

Since he’d started dating Jessie so long ago, Brendan and Lucy’s relationship had been adversarial. She had been hurt and rejected that he had picked Jess over her, and those dark feelings had brewed inside her like a lurking infection, just waiting for a moment of weakness to growl to life.

She hadn’t treated him well.

She burned to think of some of the sly comments she had made to Jess about him when they were dating. It had been petty and small of her. At the time she’d justified it to herself—really, how could he possibly be any kind of decent guy if he would lock lips with Lucy one minute and start dating Jess seriously just a couple weeks later?

She had figured he was a dog, just another athlete who liked to play around on and off the field, and at first she had been honestly concerned he would break Jess’s sweet, fragile heart.

Even after Brendan and Jess had been dating for a year and he proposed, Lucy had continued her subtle campaign to undermine the relationship.

After the wedding, she had forced herself to stop, realizing Jess had made her decision. They appeared to love each other, and Lucy knew she was hurting her cousin by so actively disliking her choice in a man.

That didn’t stop her from being cool to Brendan on the phone or on her rare visits to Hope’s Crossing.

Now, looking back, she was ashamed of herself. Okay, she had some hefty baggage that made it particularly difficult for her to cope with rejection. That was no excuse for letting her hurt get in the way of being a good friend to Jess and maybe becoming a friend to him, too.

The more time she spent with him, the more she was coming to see beyond her old resentments.

By all indications, he had been a good husband, a loving son, a devoted father. Just now, he and the children were playing I Spy, a game they had probably played a hundred times before at the café.

She would like to be friends with him. Was that even possible, given their history?

“I spy, with my little eye, something green. No wait. It’s yellow. No wait. Now it’s red,” Carter said.

“It’s the stoplight, isn’t it?” Brendan guessed.

Carter giggled. “Yes. How did you know?”

“No fair!” Faith protested. “You can’t do things outside. We’ve told you that like a hundred times!”

“Sorry. I keep forgetting.”

The door to the café opened, and a family—handsome father, well-dressed mother and two teenagers—walked in.

Her dinner companions had very different reactions to the new customers. She was almost certain she heard Brendan swear under his breath, but Carter gave a shout and Faith laughed softly.

“I spy, with my little eye. Uncle Andrew and Aunt Erin and Ava and Josh.”

His just-older brother, she realized.

While she could see similarities between the two men, Andrew was much leaner than Brendan, with the slightly pale look of someone who spent most of his time behind a desk.

The other Caines looked pleased to see Brendan and his children. Andrew’s wife—Erin, the children had called her—gave Lucy a surprised look before she quickly concealed it.

She wanted to tell the woman they
weren’t
on a date, that this was a dinner invitation extended only out of polite expedience, but that would have been far too awkward. Better to keep her mouth shut and let his family members draw their own conclusions.

“If I’d known you were coming to Pop’s tonight,” Andrew said, “I would have called you. We could have hogged one of the big tables in the back and eaten together. Better yet, we could have called Charlotte and Dylan and made a party of it.”

“Like we don’t see enough of each other as it is,” Brendan muttered. “I can’t spray a fire hose in this town without hitting a blasted Caine.”

“We’re everywhere, aren’t we?” Andrew said with a grin.

He smiled expectantly at Lucy, and after a slight uncomfortable pause, Brendan nodded to her. “You remember Lucy Drake, Jessie’s cousin?”

“Oh, yes! Sure. Good to see you again.”

“Lucy, my brother Andrew, his lovely wife, Erin, and their kids, Ava and Josh.”

“Hello.

“How nice that you still stay in touch with Brendan and the children.” Erin gave her a warm, friendly smile, and she couldn’t help smiling back.

“He doesn’t make it very easy, but I try.”

Dermot came out of the kitchen and beamed with delight at more of his progeny. “What a happy day this is for me! More of my favorite people in one place.”

They all hugged and kissed as if it were Thanksgiving dinner and they hadn’t seen each other since last year. She knew that wasn’t the case. The children had told her they gathered with the Caines every Sunday for dinner at Dermot’s house.

What would it be like to be part of such a warm, boisterous family? Probably wonderful for the long-term but right now she was left feeling a little overwhelmed, not sure exactly how she fit in.

She ended up retreating into herself a little, becoming an observer rather than a participant as she listened to their conversation about the teenage son’s baseball season prospects.

“Get the Caines talking sports and we’ll never be able to eat,” Erin said after a moment. “Come on, guys. I’m sorry for the interruption.”

“No problem,” Brendan said. “See you all later.”

Dermot walked away with them, and the absence left a silence behind that was filled by a couple a few tables away, speaking louder than normal.

“I’m fine, Judy,” the man said, which was an odd conversational gambit, she thought. “Stop fretting over me.”

“You’re not fine,” Judy snapped back. “Why do you have to be so stubborn? I can tell you don’t feel well.”

Lucy shifted her attention and saw the man
didn’t
look well. He appeared to be in his late fifties, balding, with an odd gray cast to his features. He was sweating, great droplets gathering on his forehead, despite the comfortable temperature in the café.

“That was fun, seeing Aunt Erin and Uncle Andrew,” Faith said. “Don’t you think so, Dad?”

“Sure. Great fun,” Brendan replied.

“Hey, we should take a bike ride to their house sometime. It’s not very far, is it? Maybe only two miles.”

“Less than that. Only about a mile. That would be great,” Brendan replied, just as the woman across the way grabbed her companion’s arm.

“Come on, Martin. You’re scaring me. Let’s go back to the hotel where you can lie down.”

“Stop nagging,” he repeated, so loudly this time it drew even Brendan’s attention. The man stood up, staggered a little and fell over with a kind of gurgle, knocking his silverware to the floor with a loud clatter.

“Martin!” the woman shrieked. Before she could even slide her chair out, Brendan was out of their booth and on the ground with the man.

“What’s happening?” Carter asked.

“I’m not sure, honey,” Lucy said as Brendan began trying to rouse the man.

“Is that man dead?” he asked.

“Be quiet, Car,” Faith said, looking stricken.

“Come on, kids. Let’s go find your aunt and uncle.”

She grabbed their hands and ushered them away from the dramatic scene, where Brendan was now undoing the man’s shirt and feeling for a pulse.

They headed into the other part of the dining room, out of view of the action.

“What’s going on?” Erin asked when she saw Lucy and the children.

“I’m not sure. A man is having some kind of health issue. Brendan is helping him. Can Faith and Carter stay with you for a minute while I see if he needs help?”

“Of course. Kids, slide over and make room.”

Andrew rose and headed to the other area of the café, presumably to help, as well, while their teenagers did as their mother asked.

“We were just about to play twenty questions!” Erin said. “Who wants to go first?”

Lucy waited until she was sure they were settled then rushed back to Brendan’s side. She had been away for no more than sixty seconds but Brendan had started chest compressions, with competent, practiced motions.

“I don’t know what happened,” the woman said. “He was just talking to me and then he fell over. What’s wrong with him?”

“Does your husband have any history of heart disease?” Brendan asked between compressions.

“His cholesterol is high and his blood pressure is a little bad. He’s been working on it. That’s all.”

“What can I do?” Lucy asked.

“Call 9-1-1,” he said without breaking rhythm.

“On it,” Andrew said from nearby with his mobile to his ear.

“Pop, you’ve still got that portable defibrillator, right? Where is it?”

“Oh, my goodness. You’re right! I’ve had it ever since—well, for the last two years. I should have thought. It’s in the office. I’ll get it right away.”

He raced from the room much faster than a man in his sixties should move and returned a moment later with what looked like a suitcase.

Brendan turned to Lucy. “Any chance you know CPR?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she answered. “I recertify every year.”

She didn’t have to tell him why. Probably the same reason Dermot kept an AED—automated external defibrillator—in his restaurant. Because someone they all loved had died of a cardiac arrest.

“I need you to handle the compressions while I set up the AED. Can you do that?”

“I think so.”

“Keep that beat, just like I’m doing. You know the drill, right? Think of the Bee Gees, ‘Stayin’ Alive.’”

She had never done this on anything but a dummy, but she moved into position and took over from him, aware of the adrenaline pulsing through her. It was far different on a human, and she suddenly was reluctant to push hard enough to compress his rib cage. A man’s life was at stake, however, so she forced herself to get over her squeamishness.

He stood watching for a second to make sure she had the correct rhythm then he opened the suitcase and turned on the machine.

“Ma’am, does your husband have any implanted medical devices?” Brendan asked.

“No. No, of course not.”

“We need to get that necklace off him. Anything metal will conduct electricity.”

He pulled off the small gold chain with the St. Christopher’s medal the man had been wearing.

“Now, Lucy, I’m going to attach these paddles here, but I don’t want you to stop what you’re doing. You’re doing great. I’ll just work around your hands.”

He spoke with such calm in the midst of the chaos that she took a deep breath and felt even more tension leave her shoulders.

He grabbed a couple napkins and wiped at the man’s chest then attached two adhesive pads. The whole process took maybe thirty seconds in all.

“Okay, now, on my signal, I want you to step away while the machine checks his heart rhythm.”

She complied, hands in the air. He pushed a button on the AED and the machine gave a computerized voice prompt.
Analyzing heart rhythm. Do not touch the patient. Analyzing. Stand clear.

What felt like an eternity later but was probably only a few seconds, the machine said,
Shock advised. Charging. Stay clear of patient.

“Everybody, back up,” Brendan said.

The machine gave a voice prompt again.
Deliver shock now. Press the orange button now.

Brendan complied and the machine again spoke.

Shocking! Stand Clear!

The man convulsed but then went still again.

“Come on, Martin. Come on,” Brendan urged.

Shock delivered. It is safe to touch the patient. Begin CPR.

“Do I start compressions again?” Lucy asked.

“Yes, for two minutes then we’ll try to shock him again.”

She started up again and after about six or seven compressions, Martin gasped, just like in the movies.

“Brendan.”

“Stop for a second.” He checked the man’s airway, but Lucy knew the defibrillator had done its job. The man’s color had greatly improved, and she felt his chest rise and fall.

“He’s breathing!” she exclaimed. The man’s wife cried out just as the door to the café burst open and two paramedics rushed in.

“What do you got, Chief?” the older one asked.

“Male Caucasian, approximately sixty-five years old, nonresponsive, not breathing. We just shocked him with the AED and restarted cardiac activity.”

“Nice work. You’ve always had a way with a defibrillator.”

“What can I say? It’s a gift.”

Brendan stood up. On the surface, he looked as calm as ever, but she could sense the tension seething through him.

“Judy?” Martin said, his voice raspy and weak.

“I’m here, darling!” Judy knelt on the floor of the diner and looked up at both of them with a look of deep gratitude. “You saved his life! That was amazing!”

“He’s not out of the woods yet,” Brendan said gruffly as the paramedics swarmed the scene, lifting the man onto a gurney and attaching him to oxygen and all kinds of sensors. “My guys here are going to transport him to the Hope’s Crossing hospital, where we’re lucky enough to have an excellent cardiac team. They may end up sending him to a larger hospital in Denver for treatment, depending on what caused the event.”

“I don’t care. He’s alive.”

The woman reached out and hugged Lucy. “Thank you. Thank you so much. He’s everything to me.”

“I didn’t do much, only followed orders. It was Chief Caine here who did all the heavy lifting. He’s the expert.”

“Chief Caine? Are you the fire chief?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered.

She gave a ragged-sounding laugh. “Can you believe that, Martin? You’re the only one I know lucky enough to have a heart attack at the same time the Hope’s Crossing fire chief and his wife are having dinner across the aisle.”