Chapter Thirteen
Liam’s words—you’ve thanked me enough—echoed in Andi’s head for twenty-four hours. During that time, she kept as much distance as she could, managed to stay alone in her own bed all night, and all day, she finished revisions on the B&B expansion design and took the blueprints over to Jane Gruen for approval. On Tuesday, she cancelled her class at the college, but it was only a review for the final. She’d have to go next Tuesday.
Still, there’d been no sign of lawyers, stroller walkers, or Nora Scott, who seemed to have disappeared. Shane said Andi would likely be served with a summons of some kind from Nora, but that hadn’t happened yet.
Tonight, she felt safe, driving to Waterford Farm for a midweek family dinner.
She stole a glance at Liam, his hands somehow looking even stronger and more masculine wrapped around the tan leather steering wheel of his big Ford F-250. He’d been true to his word about never leaving her house. He’d somehow gotten clothes in the guest room/office and changed into khakis and a green polo shirt that fit snugly on his shoulders and showed off his biceps.
When he’d come out to the kitchen, Christian took one look at him, signaled for Jag to come, then the two of them disappeared. Christian returned ten minutes later, having ditched his denim shorts and a Superman T-shirt for his dress-up khakis and a baby blue polo shirt.
Andi didn’t comment on the wardrobe change, but she couldn’t help thinking about it.
It was happening. Christian was getting attached to Jag and Liam. And there was nothing Andi could do about that as long as the Nora Scott threat loomed. The threat that had been complicated by stipulations that Andi had pointedly decided not to tell Liam.
He had enough reasons to help her, and she would talk the legalities over with the lawyer Shane had arranged for her to meet tomorrow. No need to add anything to the weight on Liam’s broad shoulders. The future was her problem; he was doing enough to help her in the present.
What she needed to be doing was keeping things easy and light and warm, especially with Christian occupied with Jag and quiet and happy in the backseat of Liam’s truck.
“So, Wednesday night dinner is a Kilcannon family tradition, right?” she asked as they turned onto the last road on the way to the massive homestead where he and his siblings had grown up and now worked, with the exception of the youngest brother, Aidan, who was overseas in the military.
“Whoever is in town usually shows up. It’s like Sunday dinner, without the drinking.”
“I don’t remember much drinking at the Sunday dinner you took me to,” she said.
He answered with a silent shrug.
“Sorry, didn’t get that one,” she teased.
“My mother had died less than a year before that,” he said. “It took us a while to get the festive back on Sundays.”
“Oh.” She nodded sympathetically. “Of course. I sometimes forget because your dad seems like such a happy man.”
“He’s mostly content,” he said. “Has a full life, a good business, a lot of family.”
“But not happy?” she guessed, reading a little more into the subtext of his words. “I know you said they had a great marriage.”
“Went way past great,” he said. “Ideal, really.”
She heard a note of wistfulness that didn’t really surprise her, but made her wonder if it was caused by grieving for his mother or remembering his parents’ happy marriage. “Lucky.”
“No luck involved,” he said simply. “They found each other, knew they were meant to be together forever, and made the most of every minute.”
“That’s romantic,” she mused.
“That’s life,” he countered.
She tipped her head, frowning. “Not for everyone, Liam.”
“I know.” He didn’t elaborate, but something told her there was a lot of emotion layered into those two words. It wasn’t the time to ask and, in fact, might never be. Especially now with the gated entrance to Waterford Farm in sight and a night full of the Kilcannon family swirling about and making decisions for her.
No, she corrected herself. Helping her keep her son. Which was all that mattered. Not Liam’s distance, not his subtext and indecipherable emotions, not the fact that she’d thanked him enough. Just Christian.
“You’re going to meet a lot of dogs today,” she said, turning around to look at her son, who was sitting with his arm around Jag. The dog sat erect, at attention, and didn’t seem to mind the little fingers that somehow made their way into his ears.
“S’okay. I like dogs.”
“You’ll also meet a lot of people,” Liam added.
“Oh, well. I don’t like people.”
Liam choked a laugh and held a fist over his shoulder for Christian to give him a knuckle tap. “I feel ya, kid.”
“Why don’t you like people, Liam?” Christian asked with that sweet guilelessness that only a six-year-old could pull off.
“They want to talk. Not big on talking.”
Christian’s jaw dropped like he’d found his kindred spirit. “Me neither. Do I have to talk to people tonight?”
“Not if you don’t want to,” Liam said.
“Well, you have to be polite,” Andi added.
“How polite?”
They both laughed, but Andi gave him a warning look. “Be polite to everyone you meet.”
He squirmed. “Do I have to shake people’s hands?”
Liam glanced at Christian in his rearview mirror as he pulled into the long drive that led back to the house and canine training facility. “All you have to do is say hello, thank my dad for dinner, be sure to listen to Gramma Finnie, but her Irish accent is thick and she can be hard to understand. Oh, don’t let Shane make you laugh so hard you spit your food out. All that and you’re golden.”
“But no, you know, long talking with people?”
“Only to the dogs.”
“And you,” he added, smiling at Liam.
Oh boy. Oh boy oh boy oh little precious boy. This male-bonding thing was definitely happening again.
Andi shifted in her seat and fought the urge to tell Liam to stop, but what was she going to say? Stop being so nice to my son? Stop making him like you? Stop making him comfortable and filling a void and being exactly what he needs?
Hadn’t he said he wouldn’t do those things when he laid out his guidelines?
“Look at those dogs!” Christian shot forward so hard his seat belt pulled taut as they turned into the circular drive between the house and the training pen. “What are they doing all lined up like that?”
“Oh, it’s graduation for our latest obedience training class,” Liam said.
“I graduated from kindergarten last year!” he announced.
“Then you’ll love this, Christian,” Liam said. “It’s one of the highlights of being at Waterford. Shane’ll let you give out the diploma-shaped dog bones if we get over there fast enough.” He parked the truck and popped open the door, climbing out to help Christian down from the high step.
For a moment, Andi didn’t move, a little stunned by all the emotional land mines that littered this landscape. Doggie graduation. Waterford highlights. Family fun.
But Liam grinned at her as if they should bask in the moment of Christian’s joy.
“Can I take him to the training area?” Liam asked, obviously sensing her hesitation.
“Yeah, of course.” She flipped off her seat belt and her silly concerns. “Let’s do that.”
“Not you.”
She blinked at him, not following.
He pointed over her shoulder toward the house. “Uh, I think the women’s welcoming committee is waiting for you for a different kind of event.”
She turned to look at the back porch of the huge pale yellow clapboard house with rich green shutters and multiple chimneys. As she’d had the first time she’d seen the home, Andi felt a visceral reaction to the sight of such a grand North Carolina Southern beauty that touched her architect’s soul. She never failed to appreciate the asymmetry of the house, which somehow broke a lot of rules but always reminded Andi of a beautiful older woman with just enough flaws to be unique and enough wrinkles to be real.
But she didn’t take note of the cantilevered transoms or the wraparound porch today. All she saw were three, four, five—no, six—women ranging in age from thirteen to eighty-six, each one holding a champagne flute.
Slowly, she opened the truck door to get a better look.
“Let’s go, Andi Rivers,” Chloe called, lifting her glass in a mock toast.
“Where are we going?”
Molly took a few steps down, a wide smile beaming, chocolate curls bouncing with each move. “We’re planning your wedding, girl.”
Andi swallowed, then glanced over her shoulder at Liam, who was taking it all in with, of course, a scowl of utter disapproval or disgust or dis-something that revealed how he really felt about this charade. No amusement, no secret pleasure, certainly no happiness.
“We are?” she asked, her voice sounding unsure.
“Dress, music, flowers, attendants, you name it,” Molly said, getting closer. “We thought we’d break some bubbly and make a party out of it.”
Darcy came, too, in a half run with her blond mane flying and a white ball of puppy fur at her heels. “It’s going to be a blast, Andi!” she promised.
A blast.
Kind of like hitting another emotional land mine.
* * *
Liam had to stuff disappointment away and focus on Christian. There wasn’t time to wallow in the thud of sadness that Andi was going through the motions of planning a wedding without one molecule of whatever it was a bride should feel.
Instead, he urged Christian along, sensing the boy’s inner battle between wanting to explode into a run and get in with those dogs and fearing that so many strange people turned and looked at him.
Liam knew what shy felt like. He knew the frustration of not knowing what to say and not wanting to say it even if he did. He knew the burning desire to fade into the background and observe rather than be the center of attention.
With one hand on Christian’s shoulder, he led the child to the training area, letting him clutch Jag’s leash like a lifeline.
“What grade are they graduating from?” he asked Liam.
“It’s not a grade as much as a program. These dogs and their owners come and stay for two weeks to learn advanced obedience training. Some of the people might be trying to become professional dog trainers. Some just want really good dogs.” And a vacation at Waterford, but he didn’t add that.
They stepped inside the pen, and immediately, Christian tugged Jag to the back, leaning against the fence.
“You can get closer,” Liam said gently. “Shane will let you help him hand out diploma treats.”
He shook his head solemnly. “I want to watch.”
Man, he understood that. Well enough that he’d never push Christian to do what he didn’t want to do. Liam knew that life, family, and the love of a few good dogs rounded out those introvert edges eventually, but at six? Let him be shy.
“I know this young man.” Dad’s voice came from behind them, just as Shane was announcing a border collie named Bonnie who’d won Best Fetcher.
As Dad reached them, Christian turned slowly, looking up at Liam’s tall father.
“Welcome to Waterford, Christian,” Dad said, tousling the boy’s hair. “I hear you and Jag are best friends.”
“Yeah. I mean, yes, sir.”
Dad smiled at the added title. “He can stay next to you at dinner, I promise. Would you like that?”
“Really?” Christian lit up, not realizing he’d already fallen under the Dogfather’s spell. “I’d love that. Right, Jag?”
Jag nudged Dad with his nose, proving that neither man nor beast was immune to the older man’s charms.
“You want to stay out here for a few minutes while I take Liam into the house?” Dad asked Christian.
“I think I should stick around with him, Dad,” Liam said quickly, putting a hand on Christian’s shoulder. “Until he gets used to things. Or bring him in with us if you want to talk.”
“I do need to talk to you, Liam,” Dad said. “It’s important, but—”
“I’m used to things.” Christian looked up at Liam, all blue-eyed sincerity. “I have Jag. We can stay and watch. I won’t move, I promise.”
Liam considered that, knowing the kid needed a little freedom and that he couldn’t have been safer if he’d been locked in a tower. “Okay,” Liam agreed, but signaled Garrett from across the pen. “If you need anything, you ask my brother Garrett.”
“I have Jag,” he repeated.
“Jag won’t take you to the bathroom if you need to go.” Liam leaned down. “But you can take him.”
Christian giggled a little, and when Garrett came over and took a handoff, Liam went with his dad to talk business.
“I know I’ve been out of pocket,” Liam said as they crossed the grass and headed to the house, already sensing what this was about. “You don’t need to go off hunting for another K-9 trainer, Dad. I was able to work with Fritz and Zelda.”
“This isn’t about Fritz and Zelda,” his father said when they stepped into the kitchen, immediately getting a whiff of something delicious.
Crystal, the housekeeper who’d worked for the family for at least the last ten years, turned from the sink to give him a warm greeting. “Hello, Liam,” she called, waving a wooden spoon. “Made your favorite pot roast tonight.”
“I smell it, Crystal, thank you.”
“Big night tonight, right?”
He glanced at her. Was it? “Wednesday night dinner?” She didn’t live in the house and didn’t usually cook dinners during the week since Dad, Darcy, and Gramma were the only actual residents here and they could fend for dinners. But Crystal always cooked on Wednesday nights when the Kilcannons who didn’t live here anymore came to eat, so this didn’t seem like that big a deal, right?
“Weddings and engagements and little children at the table,” she said in a singsong voice, her bottle-green eyes sparkling and white-haired head bobbing side to side.
“Uh, yeah.” He threw a look at Dad, who seemed impatient to get back to his office at the opposite side of the house.
Liam followed, and on the way, they passed Dad’s setter, Rusty, who was curled under the dining room table as if he was staking out his place before they all sat down to eat. But Dad turned at the wide staircase and headed up to the second floor, and instantly, Rusty got up and followed as if he sniffed something more important going on.
Which it very well might be.
“So, what’s up, Dad?” Liam couldn’t remember the last time he’d been upstairs in this house. He’d long ago given up his childhood bedroom as a guest room, and with his own house situated between here and town, he had no other reason to visit the sprawling second-story where all the Kilcannons had slept as kids.
“Come into my room.” Dad walked down the hall to the double doors at the end, heading into a master suite his parents had added above the family room a short time after Liam had joined the Marines. He honestly couldn’t remember being in this room more than five times in his life.
He knew that it had been his parents’ sanctuary and off-limits without an invitation. After Mom died, he doubted anyone went in here except Crystal to clean.
“Come on in,” Dad said, gesturing Liam farther into a room that was surprisingly cozy and comforting. Liam braced himself for something that might hit a memory nerve, like the soft powdery smell he associated with his mother, or a picture capturing a moment of happiness.
He doubted the room had changed much in the way of décor since she died, but it somehow now had a distinctly masculine feel to it. Across from a king-size four-poster was a wood-burning fireplace and a small seating area around a coffee table. The newspaper was folded on that table, and Dad’s slippers were under a chair. It was a lived-in room, relaxed, and still someone’s sanctuary.
Rusty jumped up on the sofa and got into a spot Liam suspected he’d long ago claimed as his, and Dad gestured for Liam to take the chair.
But he didn’t, shaking his head. “What is going on?” he asked, anxious to get back to Christian and not at all interested in some discussion about a new trainer because he needed backup. He didn’t need—
“I want to give you something. In private.”
Curious, Liam stayed silent, spinning through possibilities as his father walked to a mahogany-toned dresser and opened the top drawer. He reached in and took something out that was so small, Liam couldn’t tell what it was.
“Sit down, Son,” his father said with that slight edge of authority Liam knew so well. “You’re going to want to for this.”
This time, he followed the order, barely perching on the edge of a chair and glancing at Rusty as if maybe he knew the mystery to be solved. Dad turned around slowly, his gaze on whatever was in his hand. When he looked up at Liam, his eyes were misted over.
“Dad.” He started to stand, but his father held out a hand to stop him.
“I gave this a lot of thought,” he said slowly. “I think, of all the kids, she’d want you to have this. I thought maybe Molly, but no, this is right. Especially since you’re getting married in this house, just like we did, when we were expecting you.”
And then he knew exactly what Dad was holding.
Taking a few steps closer, Dad finally sat down next to Rusty and held out his hand, palm up, showing Liam the simple diamond ring.
But Liam didn’t need to look at it. He’d seen it a thousand times on his mother’s long, lean fingers—a square diamond set in gold, a humble engagement ring that rested next to a wedding band that he knew she’d worn to the grave. Dad had kept this ring, though, one that was perfect for a woman who put everyone else before herself.
Liam swallowed, knowing full well where this train was headed and wanting like hell to jump the tracks. But nearly forty years as Daniel Kilcannon’s firstborn son taught Liam to not say a word until his father said his piece. Then he’d tell him how wrong this idea was.
“When I gave this to your mother, we were half the age you are now, Son. And you were already growing in her belly.” He looked down at the ring, taking it between his thumb and index finger. “And, good Lord, were we terrified, kind of like you are now.”
He wasn’t terrified at all. Except about the end. Still, Liam didn’t argue.
“I was headed to vet school, she was in college, and you were…” He chuckled softly. “Well, that was before we discovered that all I had to do was walk past Annie’s underwear drawer and she’d get pregnant.” He thought for a moment as the smile faded, then looked up. “What I’m trying to say is our marriage wasn’t planned, either.”
This isn’t a marriage. But he stared at Dad, silent.
“And it took place right at the bottom of those big stairs, like yours will. Surrounded by people who might doubt it will last, but hope for the best.”
That did it. “C’mon, Dad,” Liam interjected gruffly. “This isn’t ever going to be the marriage yours and Mom’s was, okay? I’m not taking that ring. I’m not giving it to Andi, and we’re not going to sit here and pretend what we’re doing is anything other than a way to protect Christian and help Andi.” He pushed up. “End of—”
“Sit down.”
Of course, he did. Slowly, and only because his father deserved utter and total respect, not because he was going to participate in this sham.
“I know you don’t think this marriage has a snowball’s chance of being real.”
“That’s where you’d be wrong,” Liam said.
His father started to respond as if Liam hadn’t spoken, then stopped. “I would?” The hope in his voice was just this side of heartbreaking.
“If it were up to me, it would be,” Liam said simply. “I would have married her three years ago, or at least tried to get us to that point.”
It was Dad’s turn to stare, then nod slowly. “I suspected that.”
“Considering this is me we’re talking about, it’s surprising to know I did a pretty crappy job of hiding my feelings. Usually my strong suit.”
“You don’t hide your feelings, Liam. I could read them from the day you were born. You don’t vomit them out and expect the world to care. Big difference.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, well, maybe I should have told her when I had the chance, but it’s too late now. She’s dead set against this, wants Christian to be the only focus of her life, and would like us to be as superficial as possible.”
“Exactly like your mother.”
Liam snorted. “Dad, nothing about this relationship, if I can even call it that, is like you and Mom. How can I make you understand that? Believe me, I wish it was. All I’ve ever wanted when it comes to women was to replicate that. You set the bar so damn high, no one can reach it, despite your meddling and pushing.”
He hinted at a smile. “The whole family’s meddling and pushing on this one.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Son, listen to me.” He leaned forward, planted his elbows on his knees, and pinned his blue gaze on Liam. “Your mother did not want to marry me.”
Liam almost laughed, the statement was so ridiculous.
“She, too, was dead set against it and only agreed to walk down those stairs because we conceived you and it was 1977 and marriage was the only viable option in our world. Like Andi with Christian, you were the focus of your mother’s life, even before you were born. Like Andi, she knew marrying me was a way to protect her child. And if by ‘superficial,’ you mean she’d like to keep it physical and not emotional?” He angled his head. “Another similarity. In fact, I’m pretty sure Mom was in it for the sex at first.”
Liam’s jaw unhinged.
“Every time the soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever played, well…” He laughed. “You might have been conceived to the Bee Gees.”
Liam dropped his head in his hands, not sure whether to laugh or cry at a revelation he could have lived his whole life without knowing.
“Liam. Look at me.”
When he did, his father stood up, walked to him, then crouched to get eye to eye, much like Liam did with Christian when he really wanted to make a point. He held out the ring, offering it to Liam.
“I gave this to her a few days before we were married, one night on the back porch of this house. She got teary and told me that this wasn’t the way she’d always dreamed of getting married. Pregnant, poor, having to move in with Gramma and Grandpa, and her parents wouldn’t even come because they were so mad at her.”
Liam searched his dad’s face, familiar with the story, but seeing it in a completely different light. “What changed her mind?” he asked.
“Time. Love. Patience. Some inside jokes and plenty of time in bed together. By the time you came along, we were us. Daniel and Annie. Mom and Dad. The thing…”
“The thing I’ve always wanted.” Liam’s admission came out rough. “But I never told anyone, especially not Andi, because wanting that seems…”
“Weak?” Dad suggested.
He nodded slowly. “Exactly. Aren’t we men supposed to be, I don’t know, above that kind of longing?”
“Well, that’s where you’d be wrong, Son. Wanting that, building that, making a love that lasts a lifetime takes the strongest man you can possibly be. There’s nothing weak about that kind of man or that kind of marriage. Nothing at all.”
Liam’s chest ached with a pressure he didn’t understand, like someone was squeezing his heart and trying to get out every drop of whatever was in it. He looked down at the ring, a tiny little thing without any of the glitz or glamour of the ones his brothers had given their fiancées.
But this ring had resided for thirty-six years on the finger of a woman who understood the power of love and family. A woman who might not have wanted it at first, but wore it like it was the Hope Diamond.
And, in a way, it was.
“I guess she should have a ring if people are going to believe this.”
Dad’s mouth curled up in a wry smile. “That’s one reason to take it.”
Liam looked at him. “And maybe it will fit so well, she’ll keep it.”
“That’s another.”
Liam closed his eyes, took the ring, and stood, slipping it into his pocket.
“I thought you might give it to her at dinner, in front of everyone,” Dad said as he pushed himself up.
“Oh, really? You thought wrong. I’ll do it my way.” He put a hand on his father’s shoulder, always amazed at how sturdy and strong he was. Inside and out. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Hey, thank you for not accusing me of being the Dogfather by pulling strings and trying to make you do things because I think they’re best for you.”
Liam smiled. “Oh, you are. It’s just that sometimes you’re right.”
At least, he hoped so.