Christmas in Cupid Falls (17 page)

“What did you get?” she asked.

“Just some basics for me. A book on pregnancy, one on the baby’s first year, and one on breastfeeding.”

He was surprised when Kennedy actually blushed. “Why on earth do you need a book on breastfeeding? I’ll be the one doing it.”

“I don’t know anything about it, other than it exists. I want to understand the process and see if there’s any way I can help you.”

“I don’t mean this rudely, but that is one area where I’m sure I won’t need your help.”

He shrugged and didn’t remove the books.

They split the bill, and after the car was packed, he said, “I don’t suppose you would let me treat you to dinner?”

“No. I don’t suppose I will. But I could probably manage to eat,” she said.

Malcolm thought tonight was progress. “Fine. Then dutch treat it is.”

On the drive back to Cupid Falls, Kennedy broached the Jenny question.

“Malcolm, I need to ask you a favor—”

She didn’t get any further than that when he interrupted and said, “Anything.”

She couldn’t help but smile. She’d told Jenny she was sure he’d help, and she had been, but his quick response without knowing what favor she was going to ask was more than she’d expected.

“No, it’s not for me or the baby. It’s for Jenny Murray.” She filled him in on everything Jenny had said. “She can’t afford much. Heck, she can’t afford anything. Wade hasn’t paid her a penny since he left right after Ivy was born. She’s got her family’s house, but Wade took out a mortgage on it and the Cupid Falls rumor mill says he didn’t give Jenny a dime of it.”

His eyes stayed forward, on the road, but he nodded. “Pro bono then.”

Kennedy was not an expert, but she was sure that an offer of free legal services would be an insult to Jenny. “No, you can’t do that. She’d never agree. But maybe you could make some kind of reduced fee?”

He nodded as he drove. “I’ll work it out with Jenny then.”

“Thank you,” she said formally.

“You’re welcome,” he said.

They rode in silence for a while. Approaching Waterford was a sign they were almost home, and Kennedy knew there was one more thing she had to say. “Malcolm, I want to say that I was wrong. I should have told you sooner. You’ve been nothing but a gentleman about the entire situation. And I want to thank you. I look at what Jenny’s going through, and I know—what I should have known from the beginning—you would never walk away from your child like Wade did. You are in so many ways your mother’s son. And I know that things are crazy now, but we’ll work it all out together.”

She paused a moment and made what she knew was a promise: “I swear, we’ll make it work.”

“We could work it out right now if you’d marry me.”

“What if you asked and I said yes? What then, Malcolm? So I say yes, we get married, an
d . . .
”

He glanced at her, then back at the snowy road. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, come on. You’re an attorney. You’re smart. You’ve got to figure that the fact I live in Cupid Falls and you live in Pittsburgh would make some huge logistical issues.”

“One of us would have to move. Maybe we could split the distance?”

“You’d want me driving an hour down I-79 every day with a newborn?” They’d had snow off and on this year, but it was nothing to what they’d get later in the season.

“Earlier I know I said I’d be the one to move back to Pittsburgh and you’d stay here with the baby. But you could always sell the flower shop and move to Pittsburgh,” Malcolm suggested.

“I’m the mayor of Cupid Falls. I can’t do that and live in Pittsburgh. And I have some good ideas for the tow
n . . .
ideas that will help it maintain everything that’s wonderful about it but keep it financially viable in the future. Things like our partnership with Linc an
d . . .
” She thought about her dream for their child. Roots. She wanted to give her baby that sense of home—a sense of permanence. She shook her head. “I’m not moving.”

“But—”

She interrupted him. “If you’re honest, you’re not ready to walk away from your practice in Pittsburgh. You’re your father’s heir apparent. Your career is guaranteed if you stay there. There’s no way we can split the difference, and neither of us can move.”

“Well, we
could
move, but we
won’t
. Neither of us is willing to give up our lives for the other.”

“Maybe if things were different, one of us would, bu
t . . .
” Kennedy didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t say if they were in love, they’d figure it out. She was sure he had to know it.

He didn’t say anything.

Neither did she, because they both knew there was nothing left to say.

They didn’t kiss good night, and Kennedy tried to tell herself that was a good thing.

The next day at lunch, Jenny Murray came into the Center’s office. “Mal, I want you to know, I wouldn’t be here if Kennedy hadn’t convinced me that my kids were more important than m
y . . .
well, if you’d asked me yesterday, I’d have said my dislike, but Kennedy stood up for you. She said you didn’t know about the baby. She said you’d been supportive since you found out. But I still don’t trust you. With most guys I’d say, it’s not you, it’s me. But I’ve already proven my judgment is skewed by marrying Wade, so I’m not sure if it’s you or me, but I plan to be wary.”

“Well, when I became an attorney, I knew that being liked by everyone wasn’t in the cards. Doesn’t the saying go, ‘first, kill all the lawyers’? If I’d worried about popularity, I’d have been a firefighter.”

“Firefighter?” Jenny asked with a smile playing behind her frown.

“They rush into burning buildings and rescue people. What’s not to like?”

Jenny couldn’t hide her smile any longer, though Mal watched her try.

“I’m smiling on the outside,” she told him, “but still standoffish on the inside.”

“Have a seat, Jenny, and tell me about Wade.”

She did. Her words tumbled, one over another, in a rush to get the whole story out. He could see her fear. Here was a mother who’d do anything for her kids. She was willing to stay married to her jerk of an ex rather than risk losing the boys and Ivy. She was willing to let Wade walk away from his parental duties, as well as his financial responsibilities, in order to keep her kids with her.

When she was done, Mal said, “You’ve made it clear that you don’t trust me, at least not with Kennedy. But do you trust me as a lawyer?”

“Pap, your mom, and Kennedy are always going on about cases you’ve won, and what a great lawyer you are,” she said slowly.

“Kennedy talks about me?”

“Don’t get all conceited. She was your mom’s best friend. The two of them came in to lunch at The Cupboard a few days a week. Dinner sometimes, too. You should have seen them. They were always talking as if they hadn’t seen each other in years. And laughing. Mal, your mom loved Kennedy. Loved her like a daughter. And your mom was so proud of you. Of course she shared that with Kennedy, and maybe Kennedy mentioned your successes on occasion.”

He felt lighter than he had in a long time. Kennedy had mentioned him, which meant even back then, back when his mom was alive, she had thought about him. They might be no closer to reaching any resolution, but he knew she’d thought about him from time to time. Maybe that meant something. If she’d thought about him in the past, maybe that would bode well for their future.

“You can’t take it back,” he said, jokingly. “And you don’t have to like me in order to let me help you with Wade. I can see to it that he doesn’t take your kids and gives you your divorce.”

“You’re sure? The kids are the most important thing. More important than me being free of him.”

“Trust me at least about your divorce. You’re not going to lose custody of your kids.”

She nodded. “About money. I can’t pay your whole fee at once, but I can make a payment on it.” She pulled out her checkbook.

“How about this? Let me see how quickly I can wrap this up. I think it’s only fair if Wade pays you child support, and when that happens, we’ll work out some payment plan out of that.”

He thought she was going to argue, but she tucked her checkbook back in her purse. “The money doesn’t matter as much as the kid
s . . .
they’re my everything.”

“Noted.”

She got up to leave and said, “You know, there’s a chance Kennedy’s right and you’re not such a bad guy.”

“Thank
s . . .
I think,” he said.

“Do you want some unsolicited advice?” she asked.

Mal smiled, sure that the advice had to do with Kennedy. “Could I stop you if I said no?”

“Okay, here goes for you. Kennedy is a catch, Mal. Don’t let her slip through your fingers, becaus
e . . .
well, I don’t carry tales, but I hear things at the restaurant, and if you let her slip through your fingers, someone else will be happy to catch her.”

She was probably talking about Linc. No matter what the guy indicated, how could he not want Kennedy? Jenny was right. She was a catch.

“Hey, wait, before you go. Kennedy is having some back pain. I know you’ve had three kids. I wondered if you had any suggestions.”

Jenny turned back and studied him a moment, then asked, “Did she tell you that?”

He shook his head. “I noticed. She’s always shoving a hand in the small of her back.”

This time Jenny shot him a smile that he recognized. He’d seen it on opponents. Other lawyers who knew something he didn’t. The smile got even bigger as she answered, “I got these belly bands that were for back support. They’re miracle workers.”

“Where?”

“There’s a maternity store in the mall in Erie. Call them. I’d think they’d have them.”

Jenny paused, studied him for longer than was comfortable, and finally chuckled at whatever she’d seen. “I take everything back. I do like you, Mal. And I believe you’ll get this all figured out.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Mal couldn’t help but think about Jenny’s warning that there might be someone waiting in the wings if he let Kennedy slip through his fingers.

He could ask her to marry him again, but nothing had changed.

And even if she had changed her mind, what would they do?

Kennedy’s life was here in Cupid Falls. She owned a store. She might be able to find someone to manage that, but she was also the mayor of Cupid Falls. She couldn’t do that long-distance, and she couldn’t hire someone to handle that for her.

And he couldn’t see her resigning her position as mayor. It was a small town, but she was passionate about her job. She was actively working to ensure the town’s future. Just look at her tentative plans with Lincoln Lighting. And her work to bring more tourism their way.

So what would they do if she said yes, she’d marry him?

He couldn’t ask her to leave Cupid Falls.

And how on earth would they make a long-distance marriage work?

A better question—how would he make long-distance fatherhood work?

Mal stared out the window, his thoughts chasing one another. He wasn’t getting anywhere.

He’d forgotten how much he loved it here. He’d grown up looking out of this very window at this very view. Not much had changed. The trees were more mature now. But otherwise, it was the same.

It was a warm day for December. He’d only worn a light jacket on his walk over today. Well,
warm
was a relative term. Pittsburgh might only be a couple of hours south of Cupid Falls, but that hundred-plus miles made a huge difference in the winter weather. Pittsburgh didn’t get nearly the snow that the towns near the lake did. Here in Cupid Falls along with neighboring Erie, Waterford, and other lake cities and towns, the term
lake-effect snow
was bandied about all winter as cold Canadian air swept over the open lake and deposited huge quantities of snow on the shores.

But despite the early snow this year and the fact that it felt like winter, it was technically still autumn, and today was one of those rare December days when winter had backed off and warmer weather got to make a brief reappearance.

It had to be at least fifty out, Malcolm mused as he looked out the office window. He had all the Center’s business under control. His mom and Kennedy had done a great job of streamlining their system.

He’d made some calls for the upcoming Everything But a Dog benefit. He’d also made some calls on Jenny’s behalf. It turned out that Wade didn’t have a lawyer. He’d thought his threats would be enough to get his way with Jenny.

Malcolm let him know in no uncertain terms that was not the case. Jenny had said she didn’t need child support, but he didn’t tell Wade that. He warned Wade that they would be suing fo
r . . .
he spouted a long list of charges, most of which bordered on the absurd, but Wade didn’t seem to realize that. As he sputtered, Mal threw out a figure that had Wade whining on the other end of the line.

Then Mal laid out a simple alternative. Sign the divorce papers. Give Jenny sole custody of the kids. And start paying reasonable child support. Otherwise, he was taking Wade to court, and when he got done with him, Wade would have nothing left.

Mal hung up the phone feeling pretty certain Wade was going to comply. He felt as if he’d made a difference. This was how he’d imagined having a law practice would be. Helping people—people who were at a low point in their lives. Making a difference.

The only difference he felt he’d made at his father’s firm was lining the pockets of their corporate clients as well as lining the firm’s pockets. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt as if his law degree had made a positive impact on anyone in a personal way.

Well, he’d made a difference for Jenny. He had decided to go over to the restaurant and give her the good news when a movement outside caught his attention.

It was Kennedy. She was walking on the path down toward the woods.

Mal had grown up walking that path down to the creek and the falls. In the summer they’d gone swimming at the hole at the base of the falls. In the winter they rode sleds down the steep hill.

It was a steep enough hill no pregnant woman should try to go it down alone.

He got up and sprinted out the back door.

He realized he hadn’t locked the building but didn’t stop to go back and do so. This was Cupid Falls. Pap never locked the door. It wouldn’t have occurred to him to do so.

Mal thought about shouting for Kennedy to wait, but he was afraid she’d simply walk faster, so he kept jogging along after her.

The path snaked its way down, first to the right, then to the left, never straight down. It wove in between the ash, maple, and hickory trees that made up the woods.

He reached the bottom and slowed. Kennedy was standing at the edge of the swimming hole, staring at the falls. They weren’t much when compared to Niagara Falls, but the five-foot drop had seemed huge when he was a kid. The sound of the water was enough to cover the sound of his movements. He didn’t want to startle Kennedy, so he quietly said her name.

“Kennedy.” She turned and he saw that she was crying. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just being pregnant,” she said, as if to make light of her tears.

He wasn’t buying it. “Really, what’s wrong?”

“I did some funeral arrangements the other day for Steve Stevenson. He’s a local farmer. I’m sure I saw him in passing around town, but I don’t know him. I talked to his son, Jonah. He stopped in today to tell me how beautiful the arrangements were, and then he talked about the farm and his dad. His father was born Amish. Did you know that?”

“No. I don’t think I knew the family, although his name sounds familiar.”

“He was a few years behind us in school. I don’t know. After he left, well, I needed a break. This is my favorite place in Cupid Falls, but it’s been snowy, and given my barge-like form, I don’t come down often. But today was so warm, I wanted one more visit before the baby comes.”

They stood next to each other, watching the falls. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Kennedy occasionally brush away a tear.

“I’m sorry for the family’s loss,” he finally said.

“According to Jonah, his father had time to say good-bye and put his affairs in order. He died at home, surrounded by family. He knew Jonah was going to take over the farm. They’d worked side by side for years. It was a good way to go. It’s good he got to say good-bye.”

In hindsight, he knew how important that was. “Did you get to say good-bye to your parents?”

She shook her head. “In a way, but not really.”

Mal realized that he knew she’d lost both her parents, but he’d never asked how. He’d never asked anything.

She’d been there for him when he’d lost his mother, and knowing her aunt, he suspected no one had really been there for her when she’d lost her parents. If there were do-overs, that’s one he’d want—being able to be there for her back then.

“What happened?” he asked, not sure if she’d answer.

“Mom and Dad had plans to go away for a weekend—an anniversary celebration. So I was spending the weekend at a friend’s—Lori Ann’s. I’d felt sick the night before, but I got up to go to school with my bag packed for the weekend. Mom said if I didn’t feel better to call and they’d cancel their weekend. I told her I’d be fin
e . . .
”

She stared at the creek and Mal thought she was done, but then she whispered, “I said good-bye to them both when I left for school. I said I’d see them on Sunday. Dad kissed my head and Mom hugged me, then asked if I had my homewor
k . . .
”

Mal could see she was lost in the past, and he could see that even after all these years, she felt the pain. He reached out and wrapped an arm around her. “I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head. “It was a long time ago. And I guess I did say good-bye, I just didn’t know I was saying good-bye forever. For years I wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t spent the night at Lori Ann’s. What if I’d called and said I still felt sick? What if I’d come home?”

“What happened?”

“I found them in bed on Sunday. It was carbon monoxide. They went to sleep in their room and never woke up. The doctor said I’d probably been sick because I’d been exposed to the carbon monoxide, too. He said I was lucky I left. I didn’t feel lucky.”

He couldn’t imagine what that would be like. A sixteen-year-old girl finding her parents like that. More than anything he wished he’d known her then. He’d wished he’d been with her.

He wanted to say something to ease the pain of the woman in his arms, something that would ease the horror that sixteen-year-old had found. She’d walked in and not only found her parents dead, she’d found her entire world upended.

But because he couldn’t find the magic words, he held her close and whispered the only words he could find. “Oh, Kennedy, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” she whispered.

Kennedy sat, wrapped in Malcolm’s arms.

She couldn’t believe she’d just told him all that.

She hadn’t expected to feel like this over a stranger’s death. When Jonah Stevenson talked about his father leaving his family and the Amish way of life behind, she’d felt this huge hole she hadn’t known existed open up and threaten to swallow her. Jonah talked about how out of place his father had felt as he’d tried to build a new life for himself in a new community. The Amish called non-Amish people English. And Jonah talked about his father’s difficulties in the English community.

She wished she’d met his father, because she knew exactly how he’d felt. She remembered when her parents died. Lost. Alone. Adrift. She’d lost her family, her home in Cleveland, and her friends.

Aunt Betty had taken her in out of a sense of obligation. For the first few years Kennedy couldn’t find any footing. She was a stranger in Cupid Falls. An outsider. At school, the kids had all known each other from kindergarten on. They had circles of friends and cliques. She didn’t feel as if she fit in any of them.

And her aunt didn’t know what to do with a confused, angry teenage girl. She sheltered her and fed her, but Kennedy wasn’t sure Aunt Betty had ever loved her.

She’d worked hard to build a place for herself here in Cupid Falls, but despite the fact she had the store and was the town’s mayor, there were still times she felt like that sixteen-year-old girl—lost and alone. A girl whose whole world was taken away from her in the course of a weekend.

Listening to Jonah Stevenson speak, she knew she still felt every bit as much an outsider as his father had been.

Malcolm didn’t say anything. He simply held her and waited.

Well, she’d had enough baring of her soul for the day, so she sat up, pulling away from his embrace, and said, “Jonah mentioned that Gideon had been at the funeral. If you sell me the Center, I’d like to hire him to do some of the renovations.”

She felt a kinship with Gideon, as well as Jonah’s father. People who were displaced—who didn’t quite fit in.

She put her hand on the baby, who kicked as if to remind her that she wasn’t alone anymore. She’d never be truly alone again.

“Is the baby kicking?” Malcolm asked. “I saw your hand jump.”

She nodded.

“May I feel him again?”

There was no way to say no to such an earnest request, so she nodded. She reached out and took his hand and placed it on the spot where the baby had just kicked. She felt him kick again, as if he knew his father wanted to feel him.

“Wow. He’s strong.”

“Tell me about it. He likes to kick about three in the morning. I live in terror that his night owl tendencies will continue when he’s born. I’m not sure how I’ll manage being up all night and work.”

“If you married me, you could qui—”

“Quit?” she finished for him. She tried to tamp down her annoyance at his suggestion. “You think I’d give up everything I worked for because it was hard? You think I’d let down the town who elected me and resign being mayor? I know Cupid Falls is a small town—that it’s the kind of town you’d be hard-pressed to find on a map—but it’s my responsibility. I come here to the falls and remember that story about a man and woman meeting here and falling in love. And all the other couples after them. They all gave this town its name. And while it will never be a big city, it’s got a big heart. I like to think that its heart is a reflection of that first couple.”

“Maybe some of it, but I think any heart the community has is a reflection of its mayor.”

She shook her head. She didn’t know what to make of him. First he suggested she give up everything she’d worked for, then he offered her a sweet compliment. “I’ve got to get back to work. Thank you for the proposal, but no.”

“Before you go,” Malcolm said. “I got a hold of Wade Murray.”

“And?”

“It will be fine. He’ll not only sign the divorce papers, he’s going to start sending Jenny child support, so hopefully things will get a little easier for her.”

“I know Wade, and that doesn’t seem like something he’d just up and offer to do. And I know Jenny wasn’t worried about support, she simply wanted him to leave the kids with her.”