Читать книгу Close to Home - Deborah Raney - Страница 9

Chapter 2

2

She drove too fast and arrived at the Chicory Inn just as they were clearing the table and dishing up dessert—Audrey’s apple crisp and homemade ice cream. She held up the bags of rolls from the bakery and gave a sheepish smile. “Anybody want a roll?”

Audrey took them from her. “Don’t worry about it. We had plenty to eat. I’ll just put them in the freezer for next week. Unless you want one now?”

“Are you kidding? Forget my plate.” She pointed to the apple crisp, which filled the kitchen with a tart, cinnamony scent. “This can be dinner for me.”

“Don’t be silly.” Audrey gave her a one-armed hug and thrust a warm plate at her, a sampling of the supper she’d missed. “You eat. You’re too skinny as it is. And don’t you worry, I’ll make sure there’s apple crisp left for you.”

“And ice cream,” Bree said, taking the proffered plate, but casting a suspicious eye on Tim’s brother, Link, and three brothers-in-law who were standing at the counter snarfing apple crisp and looking as if they could easily put away a second bowl before she could put a dent in her plate.

Tim’s three sisters came to her defense, ushering their husbands away from the counter. “You let us worry about them,” Landyn said. “You eat, sis.”

It warmed her heart when Tim’s sisters included her, calling her “sis” the way they did with each other. “Thanks for having my back.”

“You know we do,” Danae said, laughing even as she shooed Dallas from the counter for the second time.

“Grant must have the kids?” Bree said over a mouthful of green bean casserole. She hadn’t seen any of them yet. “And where’s that new baby?” Corinne and Jesse’s new little girl—four girls for them now—had been born on Father’s Day less than a month ago. Bree had only seen little Sasha twice since then. She was learning how quickly babies grew up, and she didn’t want to miss holding this newest little one while she was still tiny.

“Sasha and Tyler are both asleep upstairs,” Corinne said. “Poppa has the other six down in the meadow playing some target game he invented.”

“Did Poppa get any apple crisp yet?” Bree asked, eyeing the dwindling supply.

Audrey popped her head around the corner. “Poppa had two servings before any of you even got here. Don’t you worry about him, Bree.”

She gave an exaggerated whew and took a bite of Audrey’s lasagna. The sisters started putting food back in the fridge and loading the dishwasher, and she hurried to finish eating so she could help. It seemed like she sailed in late too often and ate while the others did the work of cleaning up. They never seemed to resent her for it, but she sometimes worried they might.

When they were finished in the kitchen, Audrey shooed the young women to the family room. “I’ll be there in a few minutes, but I want to start a breakfast casserole for tomorrow’s guests.”

Conversation among the sisters quickly turned to babies and marriage, and Bree felt herself curl up and withdraw a little. Tim’s three sisters were all moms now that Danae and Dallas were raising the two little boys of an incarcerated woman. Since Tim’s death, she’d swung between relief that he hadn’t left her with a child to raise on her own and grief that she’d never gotten to fulfill her dream of having his babies. At twenty-eight and with no prospects for a husband, she definitely saw her chances of ever having a family slipping away.

Some of her friends thought she was crazy to have kept such close ties to Tim’s family. And maybe it was a little unusual. But it wasn’t as if their marriage had ended in a messy divorce. After Tim was killed in Afghanistan, his family had kept her sane. They alone knew the man she mourned as well as she did. Knew he’d been a hero in so many ways—not just as a Marine killed in the line of duty.

And as Audrey had told her more than once, the Whitman family’s grief was doubled by the thought of losing Bree. “You’ll never lose me,” she’d promised Audrey. They were words easily spoken in the throes of grief. But sometimes she wondered if it was a promise she could keep.

Until recently, she’d been content to still be considered a part of the Whitman clan. To sit with Grant and Audrey and CeeCee in church most Sunday mornings, to feel that she fit in at their Tuesday night dinners, and that she was welcome—more than welcome—to come around any time she needed a dose of family. To feel close to Tim, the way she always had at the house on Chicory Lane.

But the winds were shifting. She felt it more each week. And she wasn’t sure if it was her, or if it was Tim’s family who was pulling away. If they were, it wasn’t intentional. She knew that. But their lives had all gone forward, while more and more, when the Whitmans gathered, she felt like the odd man out.

She loved this family with all her heart. She still considered them her family and knew they loved her like their own daughter and sister. Yet with every new grandchild who entered the Whitman family, she felt her place—her purpose—in the family diminished. They were getting married, having babies. And she was stuck. Stuck in love with a man she could never have again. At least not on this side of heaven. She was in a holding pattern that would be painful to come out of, no matter how it came about.

Maybe that was why she’d agreed to go to the movies with Aaron. Maybe it was a way to ease into the—

“Isn’t that right, Bree?”

She shook herself back to the conversation, racking her brain to remember what they’d been talking about. And drawing a blank. She laughed awkwardly. “Sorry. I confess I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Are you okay?” Corinne’s forehead furrowed with concern.

“I’m fine.” She felt bad for making them worry. “Just thinking about . . . some stuff at work.” That wasn’t a lie exactly. Aaron was at work.

“How’s work going these days? I haven’t heard you say for a while.” Danae’s sweet shifting of the conversation only made Bree feel more guilty.

“It’s good. We’ve been busy, so that’s always good. Job security and all that. We’ve had a couple of finicky clients to deal with. But there’s always that.” She was out of things to say, but they were all looking at her, waiting.

After an awkward moment, Danae jumped up. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to check on Tyler.”

“Would you make sure Sasha isn’t crying?” Corinne asked. “I forgot to bring the monitor.”

“I have an old one we don’t use anymore,” Landyn offered. “I’ll bring it next time and we can just keep it here.”

And they were off talking about babies and husbands again.

Bree waited until they were deep in conversation before slipping away.

She found Audrey in the kitchen. “I thought we were done in here. Can I help with something?”

“Oh, no.” Audrey waved her away. “You go on and visit with the girls. I was just getting the kids something to drink. I’d rather they consume beverages with red food dye out on the lawn.”

Bree laughed. “I can’t blame you there. Here, let me help.” She took the pitcher of what smelled like Hawaiian Punch from Audrey and filled little paper cups with cartoon characters on them. “Will Grant want something?”

“He’ll want exactly what the kids are having. Just maybe in a bigger cup.” She set a giant plastic St. Louis Cardinals cup on the counter, and Bree filled that too.

“Are they still down in the meadow?”

“Grant has them corralled on the deck. Do you mind taking the drinks out?” Audrey handed Bree a roll of paper towels. “You’ll need these. I’ll be right behind you with cookies.”

“I’ll let them know.” She tucked the roll of towels under one arm, set the cups in the shallow tray Audrey provided and carefully carried it to the back door. Link opened it from the outside just as she got there. “Thanks, bro.”

“Do you need help?” Tim’s brother peered into the paper cups. “Who’s the big one for?”

“Your dad. But there’s more in the fridge if you want some. And cookies, according to your mom.”

He looked sheepish. “Already had a couple of those.”

“Link Whitman! Shame on you.” She laughed. “I don’t suppose you’ll divulge their hiding place?”

“I’m not crazy.” He grinned and opened the door wider while she passed.

Huckleberry, the family’s chocolate Labrador, chose that moment to streak into the house at full speed.

Bree let out a little scream, balancing the tray of drinks for all she was worth.

Link grabbed the dog by the collar. “Huck! Come here, you crazy pooch!” He grabbed onto the panting dog with one hand and held open the door with a comical bow at the waist. “After you.”

She gave Huckleberry the stink eye and blew out a sigh of relief. Link laughed, closing the door behind her.

Grant had rounded up the troops and had them sitting in a semicircle on the floor of the deck. They smelled of sweat and grass and a hint of baby powder. She loved every one of them as if they were hers. She regretted so deeply that Tim had never laid eyes on his nephews or nieces—except for Sari, who’d been a baby when he left for Afghanistan.

Pushing the maudlin thoughts away, Bree carried the tray over to the oldest Pennington girls and handed them cups. They looked up at her with sweet smiles. Their skin had turned golden in the Missouri sun, but that couldn’t hide the freckles sprinkled like sequins across each of their little noses.

Grant took his cup and helped her distribute the rest of the juice.

Within thirty seconds the first spill happened. One of Landyn’s twins. Bree still had trouble telling Grace and Emma apart. Laughing, she unfurled a few feet of paper toweling and knelt to sop up the mess.

Grant picked up the little girl. “Don’t cry, Em. There’s more where that came from.” He set her down and poured her a refill from his own cup. “See? All better.”

The two-year-old smiled up at him, tipping the cup to her lips—completely upside down. Juice went everywhere again, which sent the other kids into an uproar of giggles—and Emma into louder wails.

Shaking with laughter—but silently, over Emma’s head—Bree spun off another length of toweling and dried off the little girl. And Grant’s shoes. Thank goodness the deck was already red-tinted wood. “I should have just let Huckleberry spill them all at once and get it over with.”

Later, when the evening wound down, she found herself with Emma and Grace both on her lap, each toddler with an arm around Bree’s neck, echoing their cousins’ oohs and aahs as they all peered up into the summer sky, a full moon spotlighting the trail of a shooting star.

“Did you see it, Miss Bree?” Sadie’s voice was full of wonder as she scooted over and tucked her hand in the crook of Bree’s arm. “Did you? I saw it!”

“Me too. That was pretty cool, wasn’t it? Keep watching. Maybe we’ll see another one.” The cicadas started up their evening song, drowning out the rest of nature’s symphony.

How could she ever give this up? How could she ever let this family go? And yet, if she didn’t, would she ever know the joy of having her own children, of knowing a love like she’d had with her Timothy? She couldn’t go on feeling this . . . stagnant in her own life.

Sighing, she hugged the twins closer and squeezed her eyes shut to stave off the tears that threatened.