Welcome Back to Apple Grove (8 page)

He’d seen the pictures after the fact but had been in a downward spiral of grief and self-recrimination for not saving that little boy from the Projects in time. Every minute counts when there is smoke and fire involved. Smoke could be deadlier than flame. He’d seen it countless times; it wasn’t often that he or his firehouse lost the battle to save victims. The fact that the boy was his nephew’s age and size had stuck with him—and then the dreams—nightmares—started. Add in his ex walking out on him and he’d been a total basket case. Whiskey had been the only way he could cope—until he’d come to the realization that distance might be the answer.

“Patrick?”

The warmth of the hand on his arm shook him from his private hell. He looked down the table and over at the shouts of delight coming from the kitchen. “Sorry. Was just thinking about something.”

“Want to talk about it?” Grace’s eyes were such a soft and lovely shade of green. His mother would be nudging Pat toward Grace if she were here.

“Uh, no,” he said slowly. “Not right now.”

“With six kids in one family,” Dan began, “I bet you were always up to something.”

The snort of laughter escaped before Pat could contain it. “You could say that.”

“Did your sisters follow you around?” Meg smiled as she waited for him to answer.

“Not after the time we left them up in the tree house without the ladder.”

“How did they get down?” Danny wanted to know.

Pat grinned. “They howled like banshees until we brought the ladder back because we knew if Ma heard them, we’d be in hot water.”

“So did you get caught?” Grace asked, her smile wrapping around his heart.

“Almost.” Pat grinned.

“Your smile tells me there’s more to the story.”

He nodded. “Garahans don’t get mad; they get even.”

“What did your sisters do?” Jack asked.

“Put worms in our beds.”

“Makes me glad I never had sisters,” Jack said, getting up to help his wife with the cake.

Joe’s booming laughter filled the air. “My Maureen would have loved this.”

He looked away and Pat sensed the man was struggling with emotions that would never die. In his profession, Pat understood loss of life and fought damned hard not to lose that battle.

“She’d have been so proud of the lives you’ve made.” He smiled at Meg and Dan. “She would have loved the grandchildren.” Joe’s eyes filled with unshed tears.

Patrick’s stomach clenched seeing the emotion the older man fought to keep bottled up—yet one more thing they had in common.

Meg got up and walked over to put her head on her father’s shoulder and wrap her arms around him. Not to be left out, Cait and Grace squeezed in, forming a huddle of femininity around Joe.

“We want to hug Gran’pop too!” Before anyone could stop them, Danny and Joey launched themselves at their grandfather, knocking into Grace in their hurry to join the group hug.

Patrick was up like a shot and caught Grace as she windmilled her arms to keep from falling. “Gotcha,” he whispered against her neck, breathing in the subtle scent of lavender and rain.

“Why is Unca Pat kissing Auntie Grace?” Danny asked loud enough to be heard three houses down.

“He’s not kissing her,” Joey said. “He’s sniffing her.”

The rumbling laughter surrounding him lightened his heart. It felt good to hold Grace close and to have her nephews peppering him with questions. He wanted Grace in his life. He’d start out as friends, but he didn’t want it to end there. He wanted it all.

Grace trembled with aftershocks, drowning in the sensation of warm, firm lips so close to kissing her before her nephews interfered. It seemed fast, but already she was wondering how in the world they could make a relationship work with nearly two hours of travel time between. Was she really ready for this?

She eased out of his arms so she could look up into his eyes. Her family blurred into the background as their gazes locked and she saw the need swirling in his amber eyes.

“Little peepers, Grace.” Meg’s voice had Grace snapping out of the trance she’d been in—the spell Patrick Garahan had put her under.

“Gracie!”

“Hmm?” She looked at Meg first and then Cait. “What?”

Her sisters were shaking their heads at her, and she realized that she was still hanging on to Patrick like he was her lifeline and she was drowning at sea. It certainly felt like that time she’d gone swimming in the river and got caught in the mud and reeds along the bank. Her mind was muddled and her thoughts fuzzy—just as they had been back then, when she’d finally struggled free and broke through the surface of the water. The strong, firm hand grasping hers squeezed gently, tugging her the rest of the way out of the childhood memory.

“Does Cait’s Boston cream pie taste as good as it looks?” Patrick asked.

“Oh yeah,” Jack answered. “She’s come a long way in the kitchen,” he teased, earning a smack on the back of the head from his wife. “And her reflexes have improved too.” He swept to his feet and scooped his wife in his arms, twirling her around in a circle.

“Can we play merry-go-round too, Unca Jack?”

He winked at his wife and set her down. To his nephews’ delight, he picked them up at the same time, whirling them around until Meg had to tell him to stop or they’d throw up.

“You’d think a doctor would know better,” Meg said.

After they’d devoured dessert, Meg announced it was time to clean up.

“But we want to play keep-away with Unca Jack and—” Joey began.

“Unca Pat and Dad,” Danny finished.

“You two are going to help with cleanup duty first, while the men go fiddle with your grandfather’s antique pickup.”

“Can we—” Danny’s question was interrupted by his mother’s fierce frown. “Never mind.”

Patrick lingered while the other men headed to the barn.

Grace was surprised that he didn’t tag along behind them. “Aren’t you going with them?”

“I’d rather give you a hand.” He grazed her shoulder with the tips of his fingers, setting off a series of sparks beneath her skin that tingled long after the contact was broken.

“I, uh…” Grace started to say, struggling to get her tongue to work properly. “That is—”

“Thanks, Pat,” Meg finished for her sister. “Boys, go on inside and get the plastic containers I left on the table. Pat, could you wrestle that garbage can over here? It’ll be easier to just dump everything at once.”

Patrick winked at Grace and sprinted over to the smaller outbuilding where two plastic cans sat by the corner.

“I keep some of my smaller wood scraps in the left one,” Cait called out. “Grab the other one.”

Surprised, Grace asked, “Don’t you have a workshop over at your house yet?”

Cait shrugged. “Pop said there was no use moving everything when he’d probably be hanging around with time on his hands and could help me move the bigger projects around the shop.”

Meg didn’t stop to look up as she asked, “Like that solid oak credenza you just finished last week for Mrs. Winter?”

Cait smiled. “Yep, it was really heavy, and Jack doesn’t want me lifting things.”

Grace’s hands stilled and her breath caught as she whirled around and stared at her older sister. “Cait, are you and Jack—”

Before she could get the question out, happy tears filled Cait’s eyes. “I’m gonna be a mom.”

Meg was laughing and Grace was crying as they pulled Cait into a group hug and held on tight. “You always did know how to surprise us, Sis,” Meg rasped, her voice filled with emotion.

“Unca Pat!” Danny called out, coming out of the house.

“Something’s wrong with Auntie Cait!” Joey yelled, running after his brother to where the women were huddled in a tight knot.

***

Patrick reacted as he’d been taught at Randall’s Island during training—instinctively. He spun around and sprinted over to where Cait stood bent over, held up by her sisters. “What’s wrong, where does it hurt, Cait?”

Before she could answer, he yelled, “Jack, get your ass out here!” His booming voice had all three men bursting out of the barn.

Grace was amazed at the way Patrick took charge of the situation—even though there really wasn’t one. He’d reacted without thinking—or had he? While he urged her sister to sit, Grace went over everything in her head; it had happened so quickly. Patrick had answered the call for help from her nephews and, while assessing Cait’s physical state, had called for backup.

“She’s fine, Patrick.”

But he ignored her, taking Cait’s pulse, watching her breathing and her pupils. “Caitlin, I asked: where does it hurt?”

“Grace is right. I’m fine.”

“Then why—”

Before Pat could finish his question, the men arrived and Jack eased past him. “Expectant mothers shouldn’t be lifting heavy things,” he said quietly. “Or tiring themselves out.”

Joe’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “A baby?” He elbowed his way past Jack and pulled Cait into his arms. “Congratulations, string bean.”

“Oh, Pop.” Cait dissolved into tears.

“Can’t you fix her, Unca Pat?” Joey asked.

“If Unca Jack can’t fix her, nobody can,” Danny said. “He’s the doctor, ’member?”

Joey and Danny were squeezed tight on either side of Meg, who still had tears of joy in her eyes. “I’ve saved all of Joey and Danny’s baby clothes—in case you needed them.”

Cait sniffled and was passed back to Jack. She rested her head against Jack’s shoulder and sighed. “I’m just a little tired and weepy, guys,” she told the boys. “You remember how tired your mommy was before baby Deidre was born?”

They nodded and looked from their mom to their aunt and back again.

“We’ll save you a spot on our peewee soccer team,” Dan told Jack.

Jack was shaking his head while Pat stood off to one side, watching the joy filter through Grace’s family.

“Thanks, Patrick.” Grace’s touch on his arm was hesitant. “Sorry the boys spooked you.”

He shrugged. “It’s not a problem. I thought Cait looked tired when she arrived, but when the boys started yelling, my training kicked in.”

She was watching him closely when she said, “You love it.”

He noticed it wasn’t a question but a statement. “Most of the time.” He wasn’t about to tell her about the times when he would lie awake at night, going over what-ifs until he was so wired he couldn’t sleep. More often than not, he had trouble sleeping. When he glanced at Grace, she was watching him like a baby bird—wide-eyed and innocent. Thoughts of his ex had him wondering if he should just walk away now, before he lost his mind and his heart. And then Grace smiled.

He wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and never let her go. Craving her touch, her smile, and her warmth wasn’t a surprise; Pat had the same needs as any other man…but craving the comfort of friendship with Grace was unexpected.

His mother’s voice whispered in his head,
Don’t let this one get away, Patrick!

Her soft smile added a deeper warmth to her green eyes. Silently, he agreed with his mother. He was Irish enough to recognize a sign from above when he saw one—Grace Mulcahy of the curvaceous body and generous heart haloed in that shaft of sunlight had definitely been a sign. He was keeping her.

Jack tucked Caitlin against his side. “I think somebody should lie down for a little while. Come on, gorgeous.”

And as quickly as that, the family dispersed, and Pat and Grace were all alone. Working together, they cleared the table and walked over to the barn. He smiled when he heard the little voices echoed by Joe’s much deeper one. “Those two are pistols.”

Grace laughed. “They do give my sister a run for her money, but she’d never trade a moment of her crazy life.”

When she fell silent, he wondered if she was thinking that she might. Since he’d already decided she was a keeper, he asked, “Would you?”

“Trade them?” She shook her head. “Not for all the tea in China.”

“Good to know, but not what I was asking.” He brushed at a strand of hair that got stuck on the curve of her lashes. He asked, “Would you trade your life?”

She blinked and sighed. “What part of it?”

Was she being dense, or was it him? “The moving away from Apple Grove and making a life for yourself in a city a couple of hours away from everyone you love part.”

“I’ve always known exactly what I wanted. From the time I was old enough to work in the office and balance the checkbook—I knew that something bigger, grander, flashier was out there. But it wasn’t till Mom died that the need to leave began to take hold.” She lifted her gaze to meet his. “You know what I mean?”

He thought of his nightmares after the fire—and the long journey up from the bottom of that bottle. Some days the temptation to have more than a sip tempted him. “Yeah. I do.”

“Apple Grove is so—” She looked around and then back up at him. “I don’t know if I can explain what it’s like compared to living in the city.”

“You don’t have to. I lived in New York most of my life. Even though Newark is a city, it’s a speck on the map compared to New York.”

“Then you do understand?”

“Yeah, I left the bigger, grander, flashier for something simpler, homier. At first I thought I found it in Newark, but then I met Honey B. and your sister and came here.” He let his gaze shift from her upturned face to the barn, across the wide expanse of the yard and to the field behind the house. “A man could settle down here and make a good life.”

“I know of a few single women who would jump at the chance if you’re offering.”

Testing his theory that she wasn’t including herself but that she was tempted, he traced the line of her jaw with the tips of his fingers. When she sighed and closed her eyes, he cupped her face in his hands and brought her mouth to meet his.

“I’m not interested in other single women, Grace.” He swept his finger along the curve of her jaw. “I’m interested in you.”

“We live so far apart,” Grace said. “Long-distance relationships never work.”

“So you’re going to ignore what you know we’ve already got between us?”

She shivered. “I don’t know.”

“I think I could convince you,” he rasped.

“But that wouldn’t be playing fair,” she said.

He sighed. “Too bad because I’ve got one hell of an idea for convincing you.” Her mouth rounded in shock and he pushed his advantage, asking, “So you haven’t changed your mind about next weekend, have you?”

She sighed and took a step back, adding distance between them. “I hate to make promises I don’t know if I can keep, but I won’t say that I’m not tempted.”

He felt like a teenager. “Can I call you?”

She smiled. “I’d like that.”

He dug into his pocket for his phone and handed it to her to input her number. “And you’ll think about it?”

“I will.”

“I’d better go.” He didn’t want to, but being this close to Grace, not knowing if they’d ever do more than share a few heart-stopping kisses, was hard to accept. He turned to leave.

Grace grabbed his elbow. “Patrick?”

He turned back. “Yeah?”

“I had a great time today.”

He shrugged. He needed to put some distance between them since Grace had already put the brakes on things.

“You’re making it hard for me to say no.”

Patrick fought against the urge to take her in his arms. “Then let’s see where we are after you’ve had a few days to think things through.” He nodded and jogged toward his truck.

The last thing he saw as he backed out was Grace Mulcahy standing in the late afternoon sunlight waving good-bye. He hoped it wasn’t for good.