“Logan, what’s wrong?”
But he hardly heard her for the pounding of his pulse as he sprinted into the foyer, almost colliding with Hadley and Rosie as they delivered sandwiches and tea. Bolting up the stairs, he loped down the hall to Caitlyn’s room, heart ramming into his rib cage as he entered the same room she’d shared with Liam . . . and the same room his parents had shared before them. Chest pumping, he rushed to the closet that took up half of her wall and flung the louvered doors wide, jerking Caitlyn’s clothes away from the far side. The scent of Pear’s soap and lavender rushed his senses, wrenching his heart and stirring his hope. “God, I swear,” he whispered, throat dry as dust and sweat beading his brow, “if You answer this prayer, I will be Yours forever . . .”
“Maddie?” He dropped to his knees and crawled to the far side of the closet, the same hiding place in which he used to hide from Liam in their games of hide and seek when they were boys. And the same hiding place in which he’d hidden with Maddie two winters past in a family game of hide and seek. “Maddie!” he shouted again and flailed his hand into the dark nook he’d discovered the summer he was eight, the one hidden by a jut in the wall. Nothing more than an odd little gap created by the wooden clothes chute in the hall, and one nobody knew about but him. And a precious little girl named Maddie.
With a wide sweep of his hand, his fingers skimmed something soft and warm and—he grinned outright—snoring! Laughter deep and powerful rolled through him as he lay prostrate in the dark closet, heart full and hand caressing the most precious gift he’d ever received. Even as his laughter rang out, tears stung at what God had done for him tonight . . . and Cait.
Cait.
“Logan, where are you?” Her cry sounded muffled, but panicked all the same.
“Here!” With a glide of his arm, he scooped Maddie up and slowly backed out.
“Oh, Maddie!” Tears streamed Caitlyn’s face as she whisked her daughter from his arms and rushed to sit on her bed, cuddling and sobbing as if she would never let go.
“Sweet heavens,” Rosie cried, face mottled from weeping. Dabbing her eyes with a sodden handkerchief, she joined Cait on the bed, petting a drowsy, little girl who was just beginning to wake up.
Not one bit ashamed of the tears in his eyes, Logan stood there soggy-eyed, his grin a mirror reflection of Hadley’s as Maddie’s tiny mouth expanded in a yawn.
Hovering behind, Hadley handed a clean handkerchief to Caitlyn while laughter and sniffles filled the room with beautiful music.
“Maddie . . .” Caitlyn gently brushed the tousled curls from her daughter’s eyes. “Why on earth did you hide in the closet, darling? You worried Mommy so much.”
“And your Auntie Rosie,” Rosie said in a rusty rasp that sounded as if she’d been crying for hours. “Why would you do that, pumpkin?”
Maddie blinked, another sleepy yawn escaping before she snuggled further into Caitlyn’s embrace. “I missed Mommy and couldn’t sleep, Rosie, so I took more medicine.”
“Medicine?” Caitlyn said with a gasp. She held Maddie at bay, eyes searching her daughter’s. “What medicine?”
“The medicine Rosie gives me when I’m sick, remember?”
“Good grief, the laudanum? But you hate that! We have to wrestle you to take it.”
A groan rattled in Rosie’s chest. “Oh, blessed fog on the bog,” she muttered, kneeling before Maddie. “From the cup of special honey and cinnamon tea I left atop your bureau?”
Maddie nodded, eyes somber with an innocence that plucked at Logan’s heart. “It tasted so good, Rosie, I wanted more,” she whispered.
Rosie stroked Maddie’s hair. “Aw, darlin’, how much of the cup did you take?”
“All of it,” the little girl whispered, her eyes lanquid pools of innocence.
“Oh, Maddie, no!” Caitlyn’s eyes sealed closed as she squeezed her daughter tightly, an expression of horror pinching her face. “Never, ever take medicine on your own again, young lady, do you hear? When I think what could have happened—”
“But it didn’t, Cait.” Logan kneaded her shoulder with a gentle touch. He squatted in front of Maddie, chucking a finger to her chin. “God heard our prayers, didn’t He, munchkin?”
Her heavy eyelids fluttered while her lips tipped into a sleepy smile. “Did you pray for me, Uncle Logan?” she asked with a sweet tilt of her head.
“You bet, squirt.” He deposited a kiss to her nose, then lifted his gaze to meet Cait’s. “Me and your mama, but I think it was my prayers that carried the most weight.” He gave Cait a wink.
Cait’s lips trembled into a smile while tears glazed her eyes. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
Rising, Logan gently massaged her shoulder once again, heart swooping at the love he saw in her eyes. “Always,” he whispered.
She exhaled a shuddery breath as she turned Maddie to face her. “Darling, promise me you will never, ever take medicine on your own again.”
Maddie’s eyes misted as she peered up, the quiver of her lip tugging at Logan’s heart. “I promise, Mama, but I just thought if I got better that maybe . . .” A little lump dipped in her tiny throat. “Hadley could take me to Alli’s party.”
“And so he will,” Caitlyn said, crushing her in another tearful hug. “Everyone is coming here for cake and presents soon, so we best get your robe and slippers on, all right?”
“I’ll take the little dickens, Miss Cait.” Rosie hefted Maddie from Caitlyn’s arms, placing a noisy kiss to her cheek. “We’ll freshen her up with a bath so she’s all ready.”
“Thank you, Rosie.” Caitlyn rose, swatting at a fluff of dust in Maddie’s auburn curls. “That closet has left you musty, little girl, so scoot.” She tucked a finger to Maddie’s chin, voice gentle despite the stern look in her eyes. “No more medicine on your own—ever—all right?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Come, darlin’, best hurry before we miss the party.” Rosie shifted Maddie with a grunt.
“If you please, Mrs. O’Brien, I’d be honored to carry the little miss.” Hadley tugged Maddie from Rosie’s arms, not even waiting for the housekeeper’s consent.
Logan paused, expecting Rosie to cut the butler down to size. Instead, his jaw dropped a full inch—along with Cait’s—when Rosie peered up at the stately butler with a gentle expression usually reserved for Cait and her girls. “Thank you, Hadley, for your calm and your kindness tonight.” The woman’s chin actually quivered while a sheen of tears softened eyes prone to a glare where the butler was concerned. “I . . . I haven’t had a fright like that since my Johnny was lost at sea so many years ago,” she whispered, rooting Logan to the spot when a single tear trailed the old woman’s cheek. “And I . . . ,” she wiped the tear away with a hard swipe of her hand, back suddenly rigid in what looked to be a fierce show of composure, “. . . appreciate your strength, comfort, and cool head when I appeared to lose mine tonight.”
Maddie secure in his arms, the butler nodded with the faintest of smiles. “Indeed, it was my pleasure, Mrs. O’Brien,” he said in his usual crisp manner, turning toward the door.
“Mr. Hadley.” Rosie’s voice halted him halfway, his handsome face placid as he awaited her next command. Squaring her shoulders, she jutted her chin, tone carrying more respect than Logan had ever heard with the butler before. “It may have been years in the coming, Mr. Hadley,” she said with a gruff clear of her throat, “but I believe you’ve earned the right to call me Rosie.”
Not a muscle flickered in the serene and regal bearing of a man Logan had seldom seen ruffled by emotions of any kind, but the slow blink of his brown eyes softened enough for Logan to notice. “Very good, miss,” he said with the barest trace of humor lacing his tone. “And you, my dear woman, may call me . . . Hadley.” His eyes held a twinkle. “In any volume you prefer.”
A slow grin inched across Rosie’s face as she followed him to the door. “Hadley will notify the officers, and then we’ll have this darlin’ down lickety-split, Miss
Cait,” she called over her shoulder. “Hadley?”
Rosie waved a hand toward the door with a broad smile, indicating for Hadley to go first.
Caitlyn turned to Logan, mouth ajar as she pressed a trembling hand to her lips. “Sweet heavens above, what just happened?”
Logan chuckled and extended a hand to help Caitlyn up. “I’d say God used a little girl to heal the wounds of an age-old feud.”
“I don’t believe it,” she whispered, shaking her head as she took Logan’s hand to rise.
Hooking her arm over his, he arched a brow. “You? The woman who lights enough candles to eradicate the parish electric bill—doubts God can heal a fractured relationship?”
The green eyes misted as she peered up. “No, I believe that,” she said quietly, voice trailing into a whisper that caused his heart to thud in his chest, “because you’ve proven that tonight.” Her lips curved into the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen, and he ached to take her in his arms, but he would not make that mistake twice. The next time he kissed Caitlyn McClare, it would be her idea, not his, because he would not lose her again. But she was warming to him, he could feel it, and he could see it in her eyes, aglow with the hint of starry-eyed affection he recognized from years ago when she’d worn his ring on her finger. His body hummed as she absently caressed the sleeve of his arm, head cocked in almost a flirty tease. “What I don’t believe, Mr. McClare, is that there could finally be peace in this house after twenty-six years.”
Striving for nonchalance, he placed a casual hand over hers to escort her to the door. “Don’t count on it,” he said with a crooked smile, “unless you plan to bar me from your home.”
His pulse stalled when she stopped, smile fading to soft as she studied him intently. “Not likely when you’ve captured the hearts of my children so completely.” As if in slow motion, she carefully cupped a tender hand to his jaw and rose on the balls of her feet, grazing his cheek with a kiss that stilled the very blood in his veins. “And mine,” she whispered, mouth lingering so close to his that his throat went dry.
The warmth of her words caressed his skin, weighting his eyes closed as a shudder traveled his body. Oh, Cait—I adore you and I will love you forever . . .
“How about a game of cribbage while we wait, Mr. McClare?”
His eyelids slowly lifted to that same teasing sparkle with which she used to challenge him to games of cribbage years ago while courting. Heavily fringed lashes flickered, framing an innocence that made him heady, as if he’d drunk too much champagne too quickly. The curve of her lips lured while those deadly lashes lowered in playful challenge. “Suddenly I feel lucky.”
“Do you, now?” He gave her a half-lidded smile he hoped unnerved her at least a tenth as much as she had him. “One can only hope,” he said, Adam’s apple impossibly thick. He swallowed hard.
And pray.
24
Oh, come on, Nick, don’t be such a killjoy.” Cassie paused in the auditorium with broom in hand, badgering Nick with a bully tease—heavily laced with guilt—that made Alli bite back a grin. “You and Alli have been seeing each other officially for over a month now, so you’re practically part of the family—you need to come to Napa for Thanksgiving.”
Nick’s rock-hard jaw ground in a manner with which Alli was quickly becoming familiar. His smile was tight as he continued to stack chairs along the wall following the fund-raiser play. “Trust me, Miss McClare, if I show up in Napa—‘killjoy’ will be dead-on for both your uncle and me.”
“Just come for dinner, then,” Cassie pleaded, sweeping up cake crumbs and bits of trash from the punch reception following the play. “Then Hadley can drive you home after, right, Al?”
“Absolutely.” Alli held the dustpan for Cass while she peeked up at Nick with hope in her eyes. “You can leave right after dinner instead of staying overnight, I promise.”
Slinging the last of the chairs onto a pile, Nick shot Alli a dry smile, wiping his forehead with the rolled sleeve of his button-down shirt. “Had I known you two planned to harass me tonight, I would have never agreed to fill in for Mr. Bigley.”
“Oh, pooh—of course you would have,” Cassie argued. “Despite that obnoxious stubborn streak of yours, Mr. Cranky Pants, I have it on good authority you are a marshmallow with children, elderly women, and damsels in distress.” She slipped Alli a wink. “And the damsel you’ve been seeing, Mr. Barone, is in distress over your potential absence for Thanksgiving.”
Smile flat, Nick shook his head, displaying an impressive bulge of biceps as he hefted the scenery he’d built and headed out of the room to store it in the attic. Alli stared after him with a wistful sigh. “He is such a mule,” she muttered, stooping to pick up a stray program. “Just like Uncle Logan.”
“Yes, but mules with your best interest at heart,” Cassie reminded, pushing a curl from Alli’s forehead that insisted on bouncing right back. Her eyes softened. “They’ll come to terms with each other, Al, you’ll see. We’ve all been praying too hard for them both.”
“I know.” Alli blew the stubborn curl out of her eyes and squeezed Cassie’s hand. “I just wish we could get them to do more than grunt at each other.”
“You mean like Mr. Nick did with you in the beginning?” The twinkle in Cassie’s eyes made Alli smile. Her cousin reached for the dust mop and began to glide it across the polished maple floor, pinning Alli with a pointed look. “And you won him over, right?”
Alli’s lips took a swerve. “Yes, but it took a stick to do it, as you recall, which come to think of it, I may have to resort to with Uncle Logan as well.”
“Mmm . . . now there’s an idea,” Cassie said with a playful crimp of brows. She hesitated when several knocks sounded at the door, heralding Jamie, Bram, and Blake’s arrival. Glancing at the watch pinned to her lavender blouse, she slid Alli a wry smile. “And speaking of a stick, we could’ve used one to prod these boys to be on time. Poor Nick’s done all the heavy labor.”
Cassie hurried to let “the boys” in. “You’re late,” she said with a jag of her brow.
“Or right on time.” Blake scanned the newly swept and cleaned room as he strolled into the auditorium, Bram on his heels. Jamie lagged behind to kiss Cassie at the door.
“Sorry, Al, but Logan called a last-minute meeting.” Bram bent to kiss Alli’s cheek.
“Probably because he knew you planned to help Nick before we go out to dinner,” Cassie said, strolling in on Jamie’s arm.
“You may be right.” Jamie leaned to give Alli a hug. “The minute Logan found out we were helping Nick with cleanup, he called an impromptu update.”
The heavy clomp of footsteps sounded on the stairs before Nick strolled into the room, wiping the sweat from his brow. He eyed the guys all trussed up in sack suits a lot fresher than his rumpled pin-striped shirt. “Good thing the work’s done—hate to mess up those pretty suits.”
“Sorry we’re late,” Jamie said with an apology in his tone. “Logan called a meeting.”
“Figures.” Nick’s smile was dry. “No problem—you’ll smell a whole lot better for dinner at The Oakdale Bar & Clam House than I would, so just as well.”
Cassie spun around. “Wait, you’re not joining us tonight?”
“Sorry, Cass.” Nick unrolled the sleeves of his shirt. “Got tapped for a surveillance detail, so I’m walking Alli home first, unless you can talk her into going with you.” He shot Alli a sympathetic gaze before sliding his jacket on and straightening his tie.
“Al?” Cassie hurried over. “Come with us, please! You’ve been craving clams.”
Alli sighed. “Sorry, Cass, but I’m exhausted from the play and all I really want to do is go home and curl up with a book in bed. But have some for me, okay?”
“Oh, boo—you mean I’m stuck with these three all by myself?”
Blake rolled back on his heels with a grin, hands in his pocket. “Nope, you can go home with Alli so I can take your fiancé someplace a lot more fun.”
> Cassie sashayed over to loop an arm to Jamie’s waist, lips pursed in a threat edged with a smile. “Not unless the boy wants a jolt from a cattle prod.”
Jamie stole a kiss. “Rather get a jolt from your lips, Sugar Pie, if it’s all the same to you.”
“All in good time, Mac,” Blake said, “when Cassie brands you for life.” He slung an arm over Bram’s shoulder. “Come on, Cass, how devious can we get with Padre Hughes along?”
“Your one saving grace.” Cassie wiggled free. “Bram’s the only one I can trust.”
“I beg your pardon,” Jamie said in mock offense, “I only have eyes for you, Cowgirl.”
Alli chuckled. “Only because she’d scratch ’em out if you didn’t.”
“Very true,” Cassie said, snatching her coat from a chair. Jamie helped her put it on while she shot Nick a threatening squint. “All right, Detective Barone, you’re off the hook this time, but I want details on this surveillance next time you’re over. Your line of work fascinates me.”
“Hey, what about mine?” Jamie asked, escorting Cassie to the door.
“Only the part about manslaughter, City Boy,” she quipped, blowing a kiss in Alli’s direction. “Good night, you two, and make him ride the cable car, Al, for begging off dinner.”
Alli laughed. “Will do—my feet are killing me and unless the good detective wants to carry me, there will more than likely be a cable car in his future.”
Nick groaned. “Along with a bout of nausea.”
“Trust me, you haven’t seen ‘nausea’ till you’ve watched Blake flirt with a waitress,” Bram said over his shoulder, fending off a slug from Blake. “Good night, all.”
“Good night,” Alli called. She snuck a peek at the clock while lifting her coat off the stack of chairs. “Oh, drat—it’s getting late.” She turned to face him, brows sagging along with her smile. “Maybe I should just call Hadley to pick me up so you’re not late for work.”
“The deuce with work.” His voice was a low growl as he drew her close, the tender look in his eyes evidence of his regret over disrupting their evening. “The derelicts will still be there after I walk you home.” He wove his fingers into her hair, cupping her face. “I’m sorry, Al. I’d much rather be eating oysters with you than hiding out in an alley that smells like a sewer, and with Flynn, no less, who doesn’t smell much better.” His gaze turned smoky while he bent to nuzzle her ear, infusing her tired body with a fresh rush of adrenaline. “And nothing like you,” he whispered, lips grazing her neck with kisses that left her as limp as the coat in her hand.