My Sunshine by Catherine Anderson
“You know that, and I know that, but James doesn’t. The guy definitely bears watching. I’ll give Tucker a heads-up. James could be our man.”
Laura didn’t want to believe that. James didn’t strike her as the type to harm an animal. He seemed to truly love the dogs and was always so kind to them. Granted, he usually chatted with her when he visited the kennels. It was possible that he’d been carrying a torch for her since she’d first started at the clinic. But if she had ever made him angry, he’d never given her any indication of it.
“Watch yourself with him. Okay? Just to be on the safe side.” Isaiah said. “If James ever shows up at the clinic when you’re there alone, you call me immediately. All right?”
Laura assured Isaiah that she would. After they hung up, she sat on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the floor. Maybe she was just a phenomenally poor judge of character, but all her instincts told her that James was innocent.
Bent at the waist, one leg extended behind him, Isaiah stood at the kitchen sink, his arms braced on the edge of the basin. He stared thoughtfully out the window into the night, illuminated only by stars and a first quarter moon. It’s not like that, Laura had insisted when he’d told her that James had sounded miffed about their spending the day together. Intellectually, Isaiah was in complete agreement. It wasn’t like that between them—couldn’t be like that. He needed a couple more years to build his practice before he got locked down with one woman. A serious relationship? No way. And with a lady like Laura, a serious relationship was the only option.
Then why was he anticipating tomorrow like a green kid looking forward to his first date? And why in the hell had he encouraged her to come so early? Duh. A couple of checkers games would take about an hour. What the hell would they do the rest of the time?
He needed to get his head screwed on straight about her. On the one hand, as pretty and sweet as she was, he was totally not interested. But somehow, when the uninterested part of him wasn’t on guard, another part of him seemed to be working at cross purposes, asking her to show up early at a family dinner. Not a good thing. If he wasn’t careful, he might give her the wrong idea.
Laura was a dear heart. He didn’t want to unintentionally give her hope where there was none and end up hurting her.
At ten minutes after twelve the next day, Isaiah, who’d been setting up chairs with one ear cocked toward the front door, heard the bell chime. He had to elbow his way through a throng of chair-bearing relatives to reach the entryway. Then, when he got the door open, all he could do was stare. A gray wool coat folded over one arm, Laura stood on the porch. She wore a dark burgundy dress with a V-neck and long sleeves. Made of soft wool knit, the dress was fitted at the waist, then flared into graceful folds that hung to midshin, revealing a pair of shiny black dress boots that emphasized her slender ankles and shapely calves. Wow.
“Hi.” She flashed one of those dazzling smiles that showed her dimples. “I hope I’m not too early. You did say noon.”
All Isaiah could do was shake his head. Beautiful. She was so damned beautiful. It was enough to make a man’s tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. He stepped back to let her enter. When she crossed the threshold into the dimmer light, he still couldn’t take his eyes off her. She put him in mind of a glass of wine shot through with candlelight, a locket at her throat glinting gold against her pearly skin. Three of his brothers had married gorgeous women, but in Isaiah’s opinion Laura had them all beat hands down.
Watch your step, bucko, a little voice whispered in his mind. Otherwise he was going to fall in love with this lady—completely, head-over-heels, irrevocably in love. “You’re right on time,” he finally managed to say.
She was staring, wide-eyed, at all the people in the living room. Isaiah followed her gaze and almost winced. His family was okay in small doses, but when everyone got together, it was pretty overwhelming. Hank’s kid, now eight months old, was squalling, and Hank was doing the baby-on-the-shoulder two-step while his wife, Carly, a cute little blonde, hovered anxiously at his elbow. Zeke was moving through the room with four folded chairs held high over his dark head to avoid smacking anyone. His wife, Natalie, was belting out “Forever and for Always,” their favorite song, as she arranged the chairs in a tidy row. Jake, the oldest brother, had an arm around his pregnant wife, Molly, and was trying, not very successfully, to execute a waltz step without stepping on anyone’s toes. Their son, Garrett, who would turn three in February, and Bethany’s son, Sly, who would turn four in April, were taking turns beaning each other with a foam hammer, which they seemed to think was grand fun, judging by their giggles and shrieks. To add to the confusion, Gramps, Natalie’s crotchety eighty-five-year-old grandfather, who was deaf as a post, was hunched over her two kids, Chad and Rosie, who sat on the floor in front of the television. He kept yelling, “PlayStation, did you say? Well, I’ll be!” Or, “Would you just look at that!” Or, “What’ll they come up with next?”
“Sorry,” Isaiah said. “My family’s a little much.” Lifting his voice to a yell, he said, “Hey, everybody! This is Laura. Mind your manners and introduce yourselves!”
Jake whirled his wife to a stop and drew her snugly against him, his big hand resting possessively and with teasing familiarity on her well-rounded hip. Molly, her amber hair a halo of short curls around her face, giggled, moved his hand back up to her waist, and playfully slugged his shoulder.
“Hi, Laura, and welcome!” she called. “I’m Molly. This big galoot is Jake, Isaiah’s oldest brother.”
Hank shifted little Hank on his shoulder and peered at Laura over his son’s diapered behind. “I’m Hank, second youngest.”
Carly squinted her big blue eyes to see. “Hi, Laura. Carly, here. I’m Hank’s wife. I can’t see very well at a distance yet. I had eye surgery a while back, and my focus is—”
“Terrible,” Hank inserted, cutting Carly short. “What’s she’s trying to say is, don’t take offense if she sees you later and introduces herself all over again.”
Carly laughed and made kissing sounds at the wailing baby. “This is little Hank. He’s presently trying to break Nana’s crystal with a high note.”
Ryan Kendrick, also carrying in chairs, deposited a load against one wall, smoothed a big hand over his black hair where it had kicked up in the wind while he was outdoors, and smiled in their direction. “Hi, Laura. I’m Ryan, Bethany’s husband.” He glanced around, obviously in search of his wife. “She’s buzzing around here somewhere.”
“Right here!” Bethany spun through the archway from the kitchen in her wheelchair. “Hi, Laura. You’re just in time. Mom is trying to stir four pots at once, and I can’t reach the stove to help.”
Laura glanced down at her coat, then back up at Isaiah. “I’ve got food to bring in. On the backseat of my car.” She thrust the coat at him. “Would you mind getting it for me?”
And just like that, Isaiah lost her.
When he entered the kitchen a few minutes later, carrying a cookie sheet laden with two pies, he found Laura at the stove, her pretty wine-colored dress already covered by one of his mother’s embroidered white bib aprons. She was stirring stuff, adjusting burner temps, and laughing at something his mother had just said.
“Oh, Laura, you shouldn’t have,” Mary cried when she saw the pies. “My goodness, how lovely.” With a sly smile at Isaiah, she said, “Imagine it, a modern-day young woman who can actually bake. Will marvels never cease?” She directed her attention to the desserts again. “My pumpkin got just a little too brown this year. Yours is perfect, Laura.”
The smell of the roasting turkey and ham made Isaiah’s stomach growl. He set down the tray and reached for one of the canapés arranged on a platter, earning himself a slap on the wrist from his mother.
“Stay out of those!” Mary scolded.
“But I’m hungry.”
Mary rolled her eyes, poked one little canapé in his mouth, and then moved the others around to fill in the vacant spot. “Fix a sandwich. Thes
e are for company.”
“What am I, chopped liver?”
It was an exchange that Mary had had with all her sons at every holiday gathering since their childhood. “Out of here,” she grumped. “Or else I’ll put you to work.”
Normally Isaiah ran when that challenge was issued, but today he was tempted to stay. He glanced at Laura’s slender backside. “What can I do?”
Mary raised her eyebrows. She, too, looked at Laura. Then she gave him another sly smile. “You can grate orange peel for the cranberry sauce if you like.”
Isaiah liked. Afterward he helped Laura chop up fruit for something called ambrosia. Then he trimmed the smoked turkey, which his folks had picked up at the meat market completely prepared and would serve warm from the microwave. After that he poured oil into the kettle outside on the deck and lighted the propane flame beneath it for the deep-fried turkey, a dish that had been added to the Coulter Thanksgiving menu a couple of years before.
“Three turkeys?” Laura said in amazement.
Isaiah laughed. “We have a lot of people to feed. You ever tried fried turkey?”
“No.”
“Delicious,” he’d said, kissing his fingertips. “So moist and flavorful you can’t believe your taste buds. It’s also a fairly quick process, compared to baking a turkey the old-fashioned way.”
Cooking wasn’t usually his thing, but as always when he was with Laura, he enjoyed himself. There was also the added benefit that he could sneak bites of food without getting caught. Every once in a while Laura would rearrange the appetizers on the trays to hide the fact that he’d been grazing.
That worked until Bethany joined them in the kitchen to nurse her seven-month-old daughter, Chastity Ann. When she saw Isaiah snitch a deviled egg from the refrigerator while their mother’s back was turned, she cried in a singsong voice loud enough to wake snakes in five counties, “Mom, Isaiah’s sneaking food!” The accusation was reminiscent of childhood, and she spoiled the effect by laughing. “You said we couldn’t have any yet, and he’s not minding!”
Mary sent Isaiah a scolding look. “If I don’t have enough appetizers for my guests, I’ll have your head.”
“Tattletale,” Isaiah said to his sister. Then to his mother, he raised his voice to a squeaky alto and complained, “Mom, make Bethie stop telling on me!”
Mary laughed and rolled her eyes. “Thank God those days are over.”
Laura straightened away from the oven, her cheeks flushed from the heat, her eyes sparkling. “Did they fight a lot when they were small?” she asked.
“A lot? With six kids underfoot, the quarreling never stopped.”
“Brat.” Isaiah stepped across the room to tweak his sister’s dark hair and then bent to kiss Chastity’s sable ringlets. Crouching beside the wheelchair, he admired his niece for a moment and then whispered, “She’s so beautiful, Bethany Ann.” He lifted this gaze to his sister’s face. “The very picture of her mama.”
Bethany, modestly holding a hand towel over her breast while the baby nursed, beamed a proud grin at him. “She doesn’t look that much like me. I think she has her daddy’s nose.”
“Bite your tongue!” Ryan entered the room. Leaning over his wife’s shoulder, he studied his baby girl and then said in a dictatorial tone, “No daughter of mine will have the Kendrick schnozzle.”
“I love your nose,” Bethany protested.
“Yeah, well,” Ryan replied, “I’m not a girl.”
“A fact for which I’m very grateful,” Bethany quipped.
The doorbell rang just then, and the rest of the Kendrick family entered. Ryan left to greet his parents, Keefe and Ann Kendrick, and then his older brother, Rafe, a tall, lean man with jet-black hair and dark skin who might have been his double. Rafe’s wife, Maggie, a petite and very attractive brunette, stood at her husband’s side. Flanking the couple were their children, Jaimie, who’d turned seven in September, and Amelia, who’d turned five only a couple of weeks ago.
As Isaiah pointed people out to Laura, she interrupted to say, “You know how old each person is?”
He thought about it and laughed. “You know all those birthday presents I’m always shopping for? Now you know why. Seldom a week goes by that there isn’t a party.”
The living room was now filled to bursting. Etta Parks, Laura’s grandmother, arrived on the arm of a dapper, elderly gentleman she introduced as Frank. Isaiah decided that his mother was certifiably insane to have invited so many people. He led Laura through the throng to a chair.
“You’re one of the guests,” he insisted. “You’ve done enough in the kitchen. Stay out here and get to know everybody.”
Laura’s eyes widened as she scanned the crowd. “Oh, I don’t think—”
Before Laura could complete the protest, Jake’s wife, Molly, sat down beside her. “So you’re the fabulous kennel keeper I keep hearing about.”
“Oh, well.” Laura blushed. “You’ve heard about me?”
Molly laughed and motioned for Maggie and Natalie to join them. By the time Isaiah walked away to offer his mother more help in the kitchen, Laura was deeply engaged in conversation.
The dinner was fabulous. The living room had been emptied the prior day of all regular furniture, and when all the meat was done to a turn, the men set up ten six-foot tables, end to end, to accommodate the diners. The moment the tables were out the women went to work, spreading tablecloths and arranging place settings. Nothing matched. Every set of dishes Mary Coulter owned was called into service, including Grandma McBride’s wedding china, plus two forty-piece sets of dishes belonging to Ann Kendrick. Some people got clear plastic wine goblets instead of genuine crystal. There wasn’t quite enough flatware, so everyone got only one fork.
But the food was plentiful and wonderfully prepared, and everyone had fun. Jokes were told, and everyone laughed whether they were funny or not. Gossip was shared. Children spilled their milk. More than once during the meal, Isaiah glanced sideways at Laura and apologized for all the confusion.
She smiled back and said, “I love it.”
Isaiah glanced around at all the faces, some as familiar to him as his own, others not. Hank and Carly’s son sat in a high chair between them, forcing the couple to lean forward or back to hear whispered exchanges. Zeke and his wife, Natalie, were glued together at the hip, still so much in love that they had eyes for no one else but their kids, who occasionally demanded their attention. Jake and Molly, who’d been married the second longest, were content to lock gazes only occasionally, the looks passing between them filled with a deep and abiding love. Because of her wheelchair, Bethany sat at the end of one table, her husband, Ryan, to her right, her son to her left. Ryan held their daughter on his knee, feeding her mashed potatoes and gravy in between bites for himself.
At each end of the center table, which accommodated all the older folks, Isaiah’s parents sat in places of honor, talking in louder-than-normal voices so as not to exclude their guests. Mary Coulter looked sweet and matronly in her pretty blue dress as she chatted gaily with Laura’s grandmother, who sat to her right, and Ann Kendrick, to her left. At the opposite end, Harv was an older version of his sons, a lean but well-muscled man with dark skin, his graying sable hair now gone completely silver at the temples. He carried on a lively debate with Natalie’s father, Pete, and Keefe Kendrick while he ate, only occasionally pausing to repeat himself when Gramps, Natalie’s grandfather, cupped a hand behind his ear and bellowed, “What’s that you say?”
Family. This was what it was all about, Isaiah thought, feeling suddenly nostalgic. The kids grew up, fell in love, got married, and had kids of their own, until pretty soon one good-sized living room could barely hold them all. Before long, when he and Tucker got married, they’d have to rent a hall to celebrate the holidays. But that would be fine. It wasn’t about the surroundings, be they fine or makeshift. It was about being together. It was about spilled milk, deaf grandparents, sibling rivalry, and the trials of everyday life, wh
ich were overcome or overlooked because, beneath it all, love made the little irritations seem like blessings.
More than once Isaiah caught Laura gazing at the babies and young children with a wistful smile curving her lips. When Isaiah followed her gaze, he wanted to feel smug and self-satisfied. There were no soiled diapers for him to change. He’d let his brothers have that pleasure. But instead he felt oddly sad, too.
It was just the occasion, he assured himself. Over a holiday, all the festivities and family gatherings could make anyone feel a little sentimental. Only Isaiah knew it wasn’t just that. Watching his married brothers, seeing the love and pride in their expressions when they looked at their wives and kids forced him to admit, if only to himself, that he was growing weary of being single. As soon as his practice was rock solid, he needed to start thinking seriously about settling down.
Tonight, when the party ended, Jake, Zeke, and Hank wouldn’t leave alone, and when they got home they wouldn’t wander by themselves through oversize, unfurnished rooms that echoed like tombs. Instead they would each leave with a sleeping child in their arms, taking a measure of the noise and laughter and confusion home with them.
Isaiah glanced thoughtfully at Laura, and the feeling that had grabbed him by the throat when she’d first arrived came over him again. He tried to push it away, and failing that, tried his damnedest to ignore it. But he couldn’t drag his gaze from her lovely profile. Sweet. The word circled in his mind whenever he looked at her. He loved the way she laughed, the sound light, musical, and unaffected. Over time he’d even come to appreciate the way she talked—always so slowly, every word carefully chosen. The cadence of her speech soothed him, perhaps because it forced him to slow down himself.
Keefe Kendrick pushed to his feet and rapped his crystal wineglass with the edge of his dinner knife. “Before this wonderful meal is over, I’d like to express my thanks to Mary and Harv for so kindly opening their home to all of us.” He glanced around the room. “Quite a crowd. Putting a meal on the table for so many isn’t an easy feat.” He smiled and inclined his head toward Mary. “A fabulous meal, Mary. Not even my Annie could do better, and she’s one of the best cooks this side of the Divide.”
Laura didn’t want to believe that. James didn’t strike her as the type to harm an animal. He seemed to truly love the dogs and was always so kind to them. Granted, he usually chatted with her when he visited the kennels. It was possible that he’d been carrying a torch for her since she’d first started at the clinic. But if she had ever made him angry, he’d never given her any indication of it.
“Watch yourself with him. Okay? Just to be on the safe side.” Isaiah said. “If James ever shows up at the clinic when you’re there alone, you call me immediately. All right?”
Laura assured Isaiah that she would. After they hung up, she sat on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the floor. Maybe she was just a phenomenally poor judge of character, but all her instincts told her that James was innocent.
Bent at the waist, one leg extended behind him, Isaiah stood at the kitchen sink, his arms braced on the edge of the basin. He stared thoughtfully out the window into the night, illuminated only by stars and a first quarter moon. It’s not like that, Laura had insisted when he’d told her that James had sounded miffed about their spending the day together. Intellectually, Isaiah was in complete agreement. It wasn’t like that between them—couldn’t be like that. He needed a couple more years to build his practice before he got locked down with one woman. A serious relationship? No way. And with a lady like Laura, a serious relationship was the only option.
Then why was he anticipating tomorrow like a green kid looking forward to his first date? And why in the hell had he encouraged her to come so early? Duh. A couple of checkers games would take about an hour. What the hell would they do the rest of the time?
He needed to get his head screwed on straight about her. On the one hand, as pretty and sweet as she was, he was totally not interested. But somehow, when the uninterested part of him wasn’t on guard, another part of him seemed to be working at cross purposes, asking her to show up early at a family dinner. Not a good thing. If he wasn’t careful, he might give her the wrong idea.
Laura was a dear heart. He didn’t want to unintentionally give her hope where there was none and end up hurting her.
At ten minutes after twelve the next day, Isaiah, who’d been setting up chairs with one ear cocked toward the front door, heard the bell chime. He had to elbow his way through a throng of chair-bearing relatives to reach the entryway. Then, when he got the door open, all he could do was stare. A gray wool coat folded over one arm, Laura stood on the porch. She wore a dark burgundy dress with a V-neck and long sleeves. Made of soft wool knit, the dress was fitted at the waist, then flared into graceful folds that hung to midshin, revealing a pair of shiny black dress boots that emphasized her slender ankles and shapely calves. Wow.
“Hi.” She flashed one of those dazzling smiles that showed her dimples. “I hope I’m not too early. You did say noon.”
All Isaiah could do was shake his head. Beautiful. She was so damned beautiful. It was enough to make a man’s tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. He stepped back to let her enter. When she crossed the threshold into the dimmer light, he still couldn’t take his eyes off her. She put him in mind of a glass of wine shot through with candlelight, a locket at her throat glinting gold against her pearly skin. Three of his brothers had married gorgeous women, but in Isaiah’s opinion Laura had them all beat hands down.
Watch your step, bucko, a little voice whispered in his mind. Otherwise he was going to fall in love with this lady—completely, head-over-heels, irrevocably in love. “You’re right on time,” he finally managed to say.
She was staring, wide-eyed, at all the people in the living room. Isaiah followed her gaze and almost winced. His family was okay in small doses, but when everyone got together, it was pretty overwhelming. Hank’s kid, now eight months old, was squalling, and Hank was doing the baby-on-the-shoulder two-step while his wife, Carly, a cute little blonde, hovered anxiously at his elbow. Zeke was moving through the room with four folded chairs held high over his dark head to avoid smacking anyone. His wife, Natalie, was belting out “Forever and for Always,” their favorite song, as she arranged the chairs in a tidy row. Jake, the oldest brother, had an arm around his pregnant wife, Molly, and was trying, not very successfully, to execute a waltz step without stepping on anyone’s toes. Their son, Garrett, who would turn three in February, and Bethany’s son, Sly, who would turn four in April, were taking turns beaning each other with a foam hammer, which they seemed to think was grand fun, judging by their giggles and shrieks. To add to the confusion, Gramps, Natalie’s crotchety eighty-five-year-old grandfather, who was deaf as a post, was hunched over her two kids, Chad and Rosie, who sat on the floor in front of the television. He kept yelling, “PlayStation, did you say? Well, I’ll be!” Or, “Would you just look at that!” Or, “What’ll they come up with next?”
“Sorry,” Isaiah said. “My family’s a little much.” Lifting his voice to a yell, he said, “Hey, everybody! This is Laura. Mind your manners and introduce yourselves!”
Jake whirled his wife to a stop and drew her snugly against him, his big hand resting possessively and with teasing familiarity on her well-rounded hip. Molly, her amber hair a halo of short curls around her face, giggled, moved his hand back up to her waist, and playfully slugged his shoulder.
“Hi, Laura, and welcome!” she called. “I’m Molly. This big galoot is Jake, Isaiah’s oldest brother.”
Hank shifted little Hank on his shoulder and peered at Laura over his son’s diapered behind. “I’m Hank, second youngest.”
Carly squinted her big blue eyes to see. “Hi, Laura. Carly, here. I’m Hank’s wife. I can’t see very well at a distance yet. I had eye surgery a while back, and my focus is—”
“Terrible,” Hank inserted, cutting Carly short. “What’s she’s trying to say is, don’t take offense if she sees you later and introduces herself all over again.”
Carly laughed and made kissing sounds at the wailing baby. “This is little Hank. He’s presently trying to break Nana’s crystal with a high note.”
Ryan Kendrick, also carrying in chairs, deposited a load against one wall, smoothed a big hand over his black hair where it had kicked up in the wind while he was outdoors, and smiled in their direction. “Hi, Laura. I’m Ryan, Bethany’s husband.” He glanced around, obviously in search of his wife. “She’s buzzing around here somewhere.”
“Right here!” Bethany spun through the archway from the kitchen in her wheelchair. “Hi, Laura. You’re just in time. Mom is trying to stir four pots at once, and I can’t reach the stove to help.”
Laura glanced down at her coat, then back up at Isaiah. “I’ve got food to bring in. On the backseat of my car.” She thrust the coat at him. “Would you mind getting it for me?”
And just like that, Isaiah lost her.
When he entered the kitchen a few minutes later, carrying a cookie sheet laden with two pies, he found Laura at the stove, her pretty wine-colored dress already covered by one of his mother’s embroidered white bib aprons. She was stirring stuff, adjusting burner temps, and laughing at something his mother had just said.
“Oh, Laura, you shouldn’t have,” Mary cried when she saw the pies. “My goodness, how lovely.” With a sly smile at Isaiah, she said, “Imagine it, a modern-day young woman who can actually bake. Will marvels never cease?” She directed her attention to the desserts again. “My pumpkin got just a little too brown this year. Yours is perfect, Laura.”
The smell of the roasting turkey and ham made Isaiah’s stomach growl. He set down the tray and reached for one of the canapés arranged on a platter, earning himself a slap on the wrist from his mother.
“Stay out of those!” Mary scolded.
“But I’m hungry.”
Mary rolled her eyes, poked one little canapé in his mouth, and then moved the others around to fill in the vacant spot. “Fix a sandwich. Thes
“What am I, chopped liver?”
It was an exchange that Mary had had with all her sons at every holiday gathering since their childhood. “Out of here,” she grumped. “Or else I’ll put you to work.”
Normally Isaiah ran when that challenge was issued, but today he was tempted to stay. He glanced at Laura’s slender backside. “What can I do?”
Mary raised her eyebrows. She, too, looked at Laura. Then she gave him another sly smile. “You can grate orange peel for the cranberry sauce if you like.”
Isaiah liked. Afterward he helped Laura chop up fruit for something called ambrosia. Then he trimmed the smoked turkey, which his folks had picked up at the meat market completely prepared and would serve warm from the microwave. After that he poured oil into the kettle outside on the deck and lighted the propane flame beneath it for the deep-fried turkey, a dish that had been added to the Coulter Thanksgiving menu a couple of years before.
“Three turkeys?” Laura said in amazement.
Isaiah laughed. “We have a lot of people to feed. You ever tried fried turkey?”
“No.”
“Delicious,” he’d said, kissing his fingertips. “So moist and flavorful you can’t believe your taste buds. It’s also a fairly quick process, compared to baking a turkey the old-fashioned way.”
Cooking wasn’t usually his thing, but as always when he was with Laura, he enjoyed himself. There was also the added benefit that he could sneak bites of food without getting caught. Every once in a while Laura would rearrange the appetizers on the trays to hide the fact that he’d been grazing.
That worked until Bethany joined them in the kitchen to nurse her seven-month-old daughter, Chastity Ann. When she saw Isaiah snitch a deviled egg from the refrigerator while their mother’s back was turned, she cried in a singsong voice loud enough to wake snakes in five counties, “Mom, Isaiah’s sneaking food!” The accusation was reminiscent of childhood, and she spoiled the effect by laughing. “You said we couldn’t have any yet, and he’s not minding!”
Mary sent Isaiah a scolding look. “If I don’t have enough appetizers for my guests, I’ll have your head.”
“Tattletale,” Isaiah said to his sister. Then to his mother, he raised his voice to a squeaky alto and complained, “Mom, make Bethie stop telling on me!”
Mary laughed and rolled her eyes. “Thank God those days are over.”
Laura straightened away from the oven, her cheeks flushed from the heat, her eyes sparkling. “Did they fight a lot when they were small?” she asked.
“A lot? With six kids underfoot, the quarreling never stopped.”
“Brat.” Isaiah stepped across the room to tweak his sister’s dark hair and then bent to kiss Chastity’s sable ringlets. Crouching beside the wheelchair, he admired his niece for a moment and then whispered, “She’s so beautiful, Bethany Ann.” He lifted this gaze to his sister’s face. “The very picture of her mama.”
Bethany, modestly holding a hand towel over her breast while the baby nursed, beamed a proud grin at him. “She doesn’t look that much like me. I think she has her daddy’s nose.”
“Bite your tongue!” Ryan entered the room. Leaning over his wife’s shoulder, he studied his baby girl and then said in a dictatorial tone, “No daughter of mine will have the Kendrick schnozzle.”
“I love your nose,” Bethany protested.
“Yeah, well,” Ryan replied, “I’m not a girl.”
“A fact for which I’m very grateful,” Bethany quipped.
The doorbell rang just then, and the rest of the Kendrick family entered. Ryan left to greet his parents, Keefe and Ann Kendrick, and then his older brother, Rafe, a tall, lean man with jet-black hair and dark skin who might have been his double. Rafe’s wife, Maggie, a petite and very attractive brunette, stood at her husband’s side. Flanking the couple were their children, Jaimie, who’d turned seven in September, and Amelia, who’d turned five only a couple of weeks ago.
As Isaiah pointed people out to Laura, she interrupted to say, “You know how old each person is?”
He thought about it and laughed. “You know all those birthday presents I’m always shopping for? Now you know why. Seldom a week goes by that there isn’t a party.”
The living room was now filled to bursting. Etta Parks, Laura’s grandmother, arrived on the arm of a dapper, elderly gentleman she introduced as Frank. Isaiah decided that his mother was certifiably insane to have invited so many people. He led Laura through the throng to a chair.
“You’re one of the guests,” he insisted. “You’ve done enough in the kitchen. Stay out here and get to know everybody.”
Laura’s eyes widened as she scanned the crowd. “Oh, I don’t think—”
Before Laura could complete the protest, Jake’s wife, Molly, sat down beside her. “So you’re the fabulous kennel keeper I keep hearing about.”
“Oh, well.” Laura blushed. “You’ve heard about me?”
Molly laughed and motioned for Maggie and Natalie to join them. By the time Isaiah walked away to offer his mother more help in the kitchen, Laura was deeply engaged in conversation.
The dinner was fabulous. The living room had been emptied the prior day of all regular furniture, and when all the meat was done to a turn, the men set up ten six-foot tables, end to end, to accommodate the diners. The moment the tables were out the women went to work, spreading tablecloths and arranging place settings. Nothing matched. Every set of dishes Mary Coulter owned was called into service, including Grandma McBride’s wedding china, plus two forty-piece sets of dishes belonging to Ann Kendrick. Some people got clear plastic wine goblets instead of genuine crystal. There wasn’t quite enough flatware, so everyone got only one fork.
But the food was plentiful and wonderfully prepared, and everyone had fun. Jokes were told, and everyone laughed whether they were funny or not. Gossip was shared. Children spilled their milk. More than once during the meal, Isaiah glanced sideways at Laura and apologized for all the confusion.
She smiled back and said, “I love it.”
Isaiah glanced around at all the faces, some as familiar to him as his own, others not. Hank and Carly’s son sat in a high chair between them, forcing the couple to lean forward or back to hear whispered exchanges. Zeke and his wife, Natalie, were glued together at the hip, still so much in love that they had eyes for no one else but their kids, who occasionally demanded their attention. Jake and Molly, who’d been married the second longest, were content to lock gazes only occasionally, the looks passing between them filled with a deep and abiding love. Because of her wheelchair, Bethany sat at the end of one table, her husband, Ryan, to her right, her son to her left. Ryan held their daughter on his knee, feeding her mashed potatoes and gravy in between bites for himself.
At each end of the center table, which accommodated all the older folks, Isaiah’s parents sat in places of honor, talking in louder-than-normal voices so as not to exclude their guests. Mary Coulter looked sweet and matronly in her pretty blue dress as she chatted gaily with Laura’s grandmother, who sat to her right, and Ann Kendrick, to her left. At the opposite end, Harv was an older version of his sons, a lean but well-muscled man with dark skin, his graying sable hair now gone completely silver at the temples. He carried on a lively debate with Natalie’s father, Pete, and Keefe Kendrick while he ate, only occasionally pausing to repeat himself when Gramps, Natalie’s grandfather, cupped a hand behind his ear and bellowed, “What’s that you say?”
Family. This was what it was all about, Isaiah thought, feeling suddenly nostalgic. The kids grew up, fell in love, got married, and had kids of their own, until pretty soon one good-sized living room could barely hold them all. Before long, when he and Tucker got married, they’d have to rent a hall to celebrate the holidays. But that would be fine. It wasn’t about the surroundings, be they fine or makeshift. It was about being together. It was about spilled milk, deaf grandparents, sibling rivalry, and the trials of everyday life, wh
More than once Isaiah caught Laura gazing at the babies and young children with a wistful smile curving her lips. When Isaiah followed her gaze, he wanted to feel smug and self-satisfied. There were no soiled diapers for him to change. He’d let his brothers have that pleasure. But instead he felt oddly sad, too.
It was just the occasion, he assured himself. Over a holiday, all the festivities and family gatherings could make anyone feel a little sentimental. Only Isaiah knew it wasn’t just that. Watching his married brothers, seeing the love and pride in their expressions when they looked at their wives and kids forced him to admit, if only to himself, that he was growing weary of being single. As soon as his practice was rock solid, he needed to start thinking seriously about settling down.
Tonight, when the party ended, Jake, Zeke, and Hank wouldn’t leave alone, and when they got home they wouldn’t wander by themselves through oversize, unfurnished rooms that echoed like tombs. Instead they would each leave with a sleeping child in their arms, taking a measure of the noise and laughter and confusion home with them.
Isaiah glanced thoughtfully at Laura, and the feeling that had grabbed him by the throat when she’d first arrived came over him again. He tried to push it away, and failing that, tried his damnedest to ignore it. But he couldn’t drag his gaze from her lovely profile. Sweet. The word circled in his mind whenever he looked at her. He loved the way she laughed, the sound light, musical, and unaffected. Over time he’d even come to appreciate the way she talked—always so slowly, every word carefully chosen. The cadence of her speech soothed him, perhaps because it forced him to slow down himself.
Keefe Kendrick pushed to his feet and rapped his crystal wineglass with the edge of his dinner knife. “Before this wonderful meal is over, I’d like to express my thanks to Mary and Harv for so kindly opening their home to all of us.” He glanced around the room. “Quite a crowd. Putting a meal on the table for so many isn’t an easy feat.” He smiled and inclined his head toward Mary. “A fabulous meal, Mary. Not even my Annie could do better, and she’s one of the best cooks this side of the Divide.”