Her Unexpected Family (12 page)

Dolly started to climb down.

Emily put her right back on the couch and tapped her watch. “Two minutes.”

Dolly frowned and repeated her action.

So did Emily.

By the third time, Grant was pretty sure his daughter was going to explode.

She didn't. She faced Emily, stared, then folded her arms and made a grumpy face and sat, right there, until Emily told her to get down.

“You got her to do it.”

“Of course I did. Every kid needs structure, and kids with limitations need it just as much, if not more. It builds a trust relationship over and above the love relationship.”

“My mother was like that. Strong and firm, but nice.”

Emily laughed. “I'm not sure that's a good thing, that I remind you of your mother, but if she stood her ground with a stubborn boy like you, more power to her.”

He laughed, too. “I gave her a run for her money, no doubt. She never played games or changed the rules midstream.”

“It's hard to win the game when the rules change.” She put a soft hand to his sleeve. “But God gives us second chances all the time. When someone closes a door, God opens up a window.”

“Sunday school logic.” He didn't sound overly impressed.

“And everyday life,” Emily said lightly. She stood and started cleaning up the twins' mess. “We've got to bug out.”

“Bug!” Timmy screeched the word, looking around.

“Bug?” In contrast, Dolly looked curious.

“Sorry, Timmers, there's no bug. Can you throw this away for me, please? Grant, where's your trash can?”

“Next to my chair.”

“There we go.” She steered Timmy in the right direction and he became a boy on a mission. He threw away their wrappers and cartons, and tried to throw away his sippy cup and Grant's sandwich.

“Such a good helper!” Emily swung him up as Dolly pushed to her feet. “I think we'll spare Daddy's sandwich and we'll keep the cup, okay, my friend?” She held up her hand and he high-fived her.

“Okay!”

“Me, me, me!” Dolly held up her hand for a high five, too. Grant gave her one and she beamed. “Dowwy good, Dowwy good, Dowwy good.”

“Two-word sentence, excellent, my smart little friend.” Emily fussed over her as if she'd just delivered a valedictorian address. “Well done, Dolly!” She kissed Dolly's cheek while she helped Tim into his jacket. “Dude, you need to learn how to do this yourself. That will be tomorrow's lesson. Give Daddy a hug and kiss goodbye, okay?”

“I'll help you out to the car.” He was all set to argue his point, sure she'd say no, but she surprised him.

“Oh, that would be lovely.”

It was lovely. Being with her, eating with the kids, the surprise visit, her spunk, her charm.

She's bossy and you will never get a bit of rest.

He grinned to himself, liking the sound of that. She was bossy. She knew her own mind. She wasn't afraid to challenge the status quo, where he was generally determined to live the norm.

She shook him up and he liked it, most of the time. He took Dolly's hand and walked her to the car. The wind had kicked up, and the expected snow squall had barreled in off the lakes. “You okay to drive in this?”

“In snow?” She looked around as if not sure she heard him right. “I think when you've lived in upstate most of your life, you either learn to drive in snow, or you live a very sedentary life.”

“I hear you. I'll stop fussing.”

“Good.”

He smiled at her. “Thank you for surprising me.”

She lifted one shoulder. “It's good to keep men on their toes. Surprises in life are a welcome diversion.”

“I concur. I found myself singularly diverted this morning, Emily.”

Color stained her cheeks. “See you later.”

“Will do.”

She climbed into the driver's seat, and he watched as she pulled away, unmindful of the snow and wind.

Her presence made him want to do better. And the difference in Timmy and Dolly amazed him. He was sorry Mary Flanagan was stricken, really sorry, but he was happy to have Emily with his children. He went back to work and ate his sandwich as he plotted line-item budget concerns for the next town meeting and had one of the best afternoons he could ever remember.

* * *

Best week ever, Emily decided on Friday.

She took the twins on several field trips, she played, she taught, she read and she snuggled sweet, sleepy toddlers midafternoon. Dolly continued to show progress, and Tim was less incensed by his stubborn, naughty sister.

It was a beginning, but to what end? She tucked them in for their Friday naps and went back to the kitchen, unsure how to answer that question.

Her phone rang on the granite countertop. Noel's name and number flashed in the display. “Noel, hello.”

His voice came through sure and crisp, like always.

“Just checking in. We're in the middle of typical holiday frenzy, but I wanted to touch base with you. Have you had your lawyer go over the contract as yet?”

“I've emailed it to her.”

It almost sounded like he breathed a sigh of relief. “That means you're considering the offer.”

“I'm keeping my options open at the moment,” she told him, “but on
my
time frame. If that's unsatisfactory, we can quietly end the discussion right now.” She'd learned the hard way that if Noel got an inch, he demanded a mile.

“December is no time for Barrister's to change anything at corporate level, and you know that, but I need a definite answer by mid-January at the very latest.” He kept his tone brisk, no-nonsense. “You know this business, Emily. You have the younger and more empathetic eye we need to court customers of all ages. I was stupid to let you go, and I'd like to rectify that lapse in judgment.”

Noel Barrister called himself stupid?

She paced the floor, phone in hand, surprised. “I'll have an answer for you by then.”

“Good.” He hung up without saying goodbye, another annoying trait.

Like a skilled fisherman, Noel was tempting her back into the game she'd loved. And the New York City office was a power seat, but was that still her dream? Or had her goals changed since being home?

Tillie arrived to relieve her while the twins were still napping. She called Roselawn from her car phone to double-check arrangements for Stella's shower the following day. They went over the list together, and everything seemed in order. Would Stella see it the same way?

Time would tell.

She promised Marcia she'd arrive early and got home as the six o'clock bells started pealing.

There would be no chorus of church bells in Manhattan. There would be no GiGi dashing out to her car in the snow, happily handing her change. No Grant and no twins. But what was love without shared faith? An empty vessel, never full.

There were no perfect answers in her life right now. January was short weeks away. She'd made a promise to her parents, but she understood the reality. Kimberly could handle running the business with Allison. From this point on, with much of the coming year booked and secured, she wasn't really needed at Kate & Company.

And that meant the decisions were firmly back in her hands.

Chapter Eleven

E
mily was thirty-five minutes into Stella's wedding shower. Food was about to be served and she was almost ready to breathe easy.

The Victorian motif dining room was awash in twinkle lights and red and white poinsettias, in keeping with Stella's holiday theme. Marcia and the staff had outdone themselves in laying out a perfectly beautiful afternoon. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

“I can't believe you did this, Stella!”

The small chorus of voices near Emily paused. So did she, because suddenly she wasn't breathing all that easy anymore. She turned toward the angry voice. So did everyone else.

“You did it on purpose, you selfish witch, and I regret the day I said yes for Katelyn to be in your self-absorbed, egotistical wedding, but that's a mistake I can remedy right now! If only I could convince my brother.” The somewhat stout woman stepped closer. Anger and hurt darkened her gaze while a single tear tracked down her cheek. She brushed it away. “That you are the most self-centered person I've ever met in my life. Be assured that my family will not be in or at your stupid wedding. An adult shouldn't have to deal with your behavior, much less a sweet child like Katelyn.”

What could Emily do? She had no idea what had transpired, and the entire room was now focused on the emotional scene playing out before them.

Tears streamed down the six-year-old's cheeks. Her mother grabbed tissues and their coats, then stormed out of the festive room.

Shocked silence settled in her wake.

But in that shocked silence, Emily saw Stella's face. She didn't look like a bridezilla right now. She looked like an overwhelmed woman. Her expression changed quickly, though, as the room rumbled back to life.

“Stella, how dare she?” Mrs. Yorkos hurried to her daughter's side. “This is what comes from marrying into that kind of family—”

About 25 percent of the room gasped. Emily guessed those were members of the groom's family.

“Mother!”

“It's true,” Yvonne Yorkos insisted. “Your father's family, my family, we have standards!”

Half a dozen people started for the door.

“In the old days, you'd have never married beneath you like this!”

Another dozen followed.

Stella's mother whirled around, saw people leaving and seemed to realize that she had just managed to insult a quarter of the guests.

The groom's mother approached them. “Yvonne, really. Think about what you're saying, please.”

Mrs. Yorkos planted her hands on her hips and scowled. “You know it's true, Deborah. In our day, a young woman from Brant Hills wouldn't have given the time of day to a farmer's son.”

“Mom!” Stella moved between the two women, and for once she had the grace to look appalled. “Scott is a great man, he's doing wonderful things for the county and he'll probably end up being a state congressman. Or a senator. What are you doing?”

“Clawing one's way up is never the same as being born up, Stella, and Deborah knows the truth in my words.”

The other mother didn't look angry. She looked sad, and she put a gentle arm around Stella's shoulders. “Yvonne, I know that you believe your words. But look around you. You're the only one in this room who believes them. Times have changed, and while I'm not feeling particularly welcome here at the moment, I want Stella to know that she's my son's choice as his bride. His helpmate for life. And I welcome her to our family.” She kissed Stella's cheek, then joined the rest of the people walking out the door. In less than five minutes, a group of just over sixty people had been cut to forty.

Silence reigned.

Stella stood, facing the door, wringing her hands, as if she couldn't believe what just happened. Two bridesmaids came forward. The other two hung back. Emily understood their reluctance because there were no reassurances to fix this.

“Stella.” She moved to the bride's side and took her arm. “Let's make sure the remaining guests enjoy their afternoon.”

Stella met her gaze, then swallowed hard. Tears slipped down her cheeks.

Marcia appeared with a box of tissues. She proffered them, and Emily handed several to Stella. “We can do this.” She kept her voice soft. “Families squabble all the time, and everyone here understands that you are your own person, and Scott's bride. Give things time to calm down, okay?”

Stella blinked, then nodded.

Emily took her arm, then motioned for Marcia to start serving. Food wouldn't change anything, but she hoped it would create a buffer. And then presents.

Talk about awkward.

Every time Stella was handed a gift signed by her future in-laws, the guests exchanged not-so-furtive glances and Stella looked miserable.

Worst wedding shower, ever.

That's how this one was getting labeled in Emily's book, and if she never had to deal with a cranky bride again—

She'd be okay with that.

* * *

Grant picked up his ringing cell phone Monday afternoon and couldn't believe what he saw. His ex-wife's maiden name and a number he didn't recognize. The phone buzzed three times before he swept a finger across the touch screen. “Grant McCarthy speaking.”

“It's Serenity, Grant.”

“It's been a long time, Serenity.”

“It has. I know. I...” She paused, then said, “I'd like to see you, if that's all right.”

“Me? You want to see me?”

“Yes.”

“Not your children?” He asked the question purposely as anger rose within him. “You have no interest in seeing them?”

“Why confuse them?” The words came through soft, so soft. He had to grasp the phone tighter to his ear to hear them. “I'm in the area for a little while and I wanted the chance to clear up some things.”

Clear up what? How she walked out and left her two babies? “I don't see any sense in it, Serenity. What's the point?”

She sighed. A long silence ensued before she spoke again. “You're right, of course. There really is no point.” She hung up the phone and he sat there, staring at it, the sight of her name engraved on his brain.

Why had she called now? She'd taken off a long time ago. Why contact him now and ask to see him?

She didn't want to see their kids.

Well, she didn't
deserve
to see their kids. She didn't deserve their love and affection and silly ways, and sleepless nights and messy diapers. He'd been there night and day. He'd walked the halls with croupy kids and upset tummies and stuffed-up noses and sore gums from teething. Him, not her, so she could—

“Grant, I'm heading out. Have a good weekend.”

Jeannie's goodbye interrupted his mental tirade. He stood, shrugged off the call and moved to grab his jacket, scarf and gloves. “You, too.”

“See you tomorrow. And I hope the storm they're forecasting either gives us a miss or weakens before it hits New York. Getting to work might be a tricky business.”

“If it hits, I'll get the guys out in plenty of time to clear things up.”

She sent him a fond look. “You're good at your job, Grant. The whole town appreciates that. You remind me a lot of your mom. Always helping, ready to take charge.”

“Thanks, Jeannie.” He locked the doors once he shut off the lights, and trudged to his SUV, chin down.

He couldn't believe Serenity called him out of the blue like that. Why? What good would talking do? What good could come of it?

None.

He climbed into the SUV, determined to put Serenity and the phone call behind him. He and the kids were doing fine, and no way did they need a wrinkle in the road to mess things up. Even if that wrinkle was their mother. She'd shrugged them off and walked away, and never looked back.

His conscience gave him a solid poke.
She's looking back now. Isn't that why she called?

He didn't know and didn't care. He drove home. Tillie was finishing out the final hour with the twins because Emily had a client appointment.

He walked in and hugged his kids, hugged them tight. He loved them. He'd do anything for them. And no matter what happened, he'd be here for them, all the time, because that's what a good parent did. He cared for the kids all evening, trying to shove thoughts of Serenity aside, but they kept budging in.

First Christa with their father. And now Serenity, pushing in.

Well, that wasn't how it worked, Grant thought as he tucked the twins into bed a few hours later. There were no free passes in life. Life with kids was like the famous Yoda saying—“Do. Or do not. There is no try.”

His father left without a backward glance. Serenity walked out on two infants to pursue a career she loved more than them.

And that was it, Grant decided when he punched his pillow into shape late that evening. If asked, he'd say he believed in second chances, sure. But not when it involved the tender hearts of children. Then you got one shot to make it right, and if you blew it?

The game was over.

He went to bed, exhausted, but sleep was a long time coming. He must have dozed, though, because he sat straight up in bed hours later, jerked awake by what?

He listened hard, heard nothing and was tempted to lie back down. The clock read 3:47. He checked his cell phone. No weather alert or anything to call the crews out for. He yawned, eyed the pillow and decided to check the kids before he went back to sleep.

He peeked into Dolly's room. Sound asleep, curled up tight, eyes buttoned shut, she looked strong but frail. Was that because he saw her limitations and not her strengths?

Possibly, and he needed to work on that. Heaven knows Emily reminded him on a regular basis.

He moved to Timmy's room and opened the door. The sound of Tim's breathing yanked him into the room, and when he clicked on the light he knew something was wrong, very wrong. “Tim?” He picked up the boy, speaking softly. “Timmers? It's me. Daddy.”

No response, just that awful labored breathing as if his little boy was struggling for air.

Panic rose.

He fought it down.

He'd handled lots of illnesses with the kids, but never anything like this. “Timmy? Timmy, wake up, honey. Wake up, okay?” He stared at the little fellow, as if the heavy breathing might remedy itself once Timmy woke up, but the sight of Timmy's blue-tinged lips made his decision easy and hard. He carried the boy back to his room, grabbed up his phone and made two calls. The first was to 911, to report a child with trouble breathing.

And the next was to Emily Gallagher.

* * *

Emily grabbed for the phone. “Grant, what's up? What's wrong?”

“It's Tim.” He was trying to sound calm, but the fear in his voice grabbed hold of her heart. “The ambulance is on its way to take him into the children's hospital at Strong.”

“Why?”

His voice cracked. “He's sick. He's having a hard time breathing. His lips are turning blue, Em.”

God, oh, God. Please shelter this little boy and his father. Heal him, Lord—shed Your healing mercy upon him like the dewfall, all encompassing. Heal him, Lord. Please.
“You'll have to come through town to get to the thruway. Meet me at the corner of Center and Lake Road and I'll take Dolly.”

“You don't mind?”

“Of course I don't.” She heard the sound of the approaching ambulance coming through Grant's phone and her heart seized. “I'll grab her so you can focus on him, okay?”

“Yes.”

Rory came into her room as Emily quickly tugged clothes into place. “What's going on?” When Emily explained, Rory stepped up to the plate, like always. “I'll take Dolly. You go with Grant. He shouldn't be alone at a time like this.”

Emily's car was freezing cold, but by the time Grant pulled up to the intersection a couple of blocks from the Gallagher house, it had warmed up. Emily climbed out. So did Rory. And when Rory took Dolly and the spare booster seat, Emily got into the passenger seat of Grant's car. “I'm coming with you.”

He covered her hand with his for just a moment, but it was long enough. “Thank you, Em. I—” He breathed deep, thrust the car into gear and headed for the thruway. “I can't believe this is happening. He was fine last evening. Just fine.”

“And fine yesterday, although he did seem tired at nap time. More tired than usual, but we'd played hard all morning.”

“I don't get it.” Grant went through the tollbooths a few minutes later, accelerated and took the next exit, toward Rochester. “How can a kid be perfectly healthy one minute and struggling to breathe the next?”

“I don't know.”

They pulled into the hospital emergency lot twenty minutes later. The desk nurse took quick, basic information, then sent them upstairs.

“Timothy Gallagher.” Grant spoke his son's name in a firm, tight voice. “They just brought him in.”

“We're getting him settled.” The calm night nurse took them into a nearby waiting area, overlooking the city lights. “Give us a little time to stabilize him.”

Stabilize him. The phrase put a choke hold on Emily's heart. “His doctor just arrived, and she'll be able to fill you in shortly.” She pointed to a coffee system and a food cupboard. “Help yourself to anything, and be assured that Timmy is in good hands right now.”

Grant didn't reply, and when Emily looked up, she realized he couldn't reply. Harsh emotion marked his gaze, his face. His throat convulsed and he blinked hard, twice. She reached out and took his hand. “Thank you. We'll be right here, waiting for the doctor.”

Minutes ticked by like hours. Christa texted Grant about the wedding as the sun broke along the eastern horizon, and Grant scrubbed a hand to his face. “The wedding. How can I think about the wedding at a time like this? But how can I not think about the wedding?”

Emily took his phone and texted a quick message of reassurance to Christa, then handed the phone back. “The wedding's in good hands—everything's been checked and rechecked. That's why you hired us, Grant. We've got your back. Right now the only thing you need to worry about is Tim.”