Hold Me Fast (McCullough Mountain Book 7)

  She squeezed his hand, nearly cracking some of the smaller bones as another contraction hit. It was agony, seeing her in pain. “Is it a bad one?”

  Sweat beaded at her brow as she bore down and clenched her teeth. “What do you fuckin’ think? I’m on a gurney, not a pleasure cruise.”

  He’d best stay quiet from now on.

  The contraction appeared to end and her body went lax. She didn’t seem to be as big as some women, which made him believe it was a girl.

  He didn’t like to think too far ahead on the subject, but if it were a girl, he thought the name Katherine was nice. They could call her Kate. If it were a boy, they might call him Frank, or perhaps something Irish like Braydon or Finnegan. Maureen would likely argue over the name, being that she had her own favorites. She liked Kelly and Luke and Colin for boys and Sheilagh for a girl.

  The doctor returned and his gut clenched. He’d dreaded this part, knowing he’d have to let her go where he couldn’t follow. Swallowing, he waited as the doctor explained some things to her. When they started to ready the gurney to wheel her to the birthing room, Maureen’s emerald eyes found his. “Frank.”

  He stepped close and took her hand as something cool and small pressed into his palm. “I’m here, love.”

  A sheen of tears built at her copper lashes as her eyes changed to the shade of an Irish meadow. “I’m scared.”

  “It’ll all be over soon, love, and we’ll be three. A family.”

  She squeezed his hand in both of hers and brought his fingers to her lips. He bent and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  Her eyes closed as she hissed and tensed, another contraction taking hold. They wheeled her away and his worry nearly paralyzed him. Staring at his fist, he opened his fingers and found what she’d placed there. Her wedding ring.

  With a bracing breath, he slid the ring onto the tip of his pinky and made a fist. The next hours would be a nightmare of waiting and worry.

  Her parents and sisters waited anxiously in the waiting room. “Is it bad? Did she look like she was in a lot of pain?” Rosemarie asked, her own waist thick with child.

  Taking sympathy on her, he said, “She barely made a fuss.”

  Her sister sighed with relief. “Thank God.”

  The minutes ticked by slowly. Paulie and Liam showed up with cigars, but Frank couldn’t relax until he knew she was okay. He paced by the window, impatiently awaiting the doctor. Mr. O’Leahey read the paper as he puffed on a pipe. Apparently after three daughters he didn’t see this as a cause for alarm.

  “She’ll be okay, Frank.”

  He turned and found Colleen. She passed him a soda. “I know. I just want the waiting to be over.”

  She laughed. “In a year you’ll be back here again. You better get used to it. Maureen’s always wanted a clan to call her own.”

  He was beginning to rethink the whole big family thing. The stress was too much. Having a family to feed didn’t worry him half as much as his wife’s health being jeopardized. Maybe they’d adopt.

  As the minutes ticked into hours his mind skated over images that seemed so clear, yet so vague. He imagined her growing soft with age and feeding a brood of children at their table, one by one, small heads filled the vision, but he could not make out a single face. She would be loving but rigid and he would find great contentment in watching her and their family grow.

  Frank didn’t need to be in the limelight. Standing in the shadow of a woman like Maureen wasn’t a cold place to be. It was cozy and warm and so much more than he’d ever imagined. Being in her company meant being alive. That was his wife. She was life.

  “Mr. McCullough?”

  He spun and faced the door, his heart suddenly lodged in his throat. “That’s me.”

  The doctor lowered his mask and grinned. “Congratulations. You’re now the father of a healthy baby girl.”

  The women sighed.

  “And my wife?”

  “She’s a little groggy, but doing well. We’ll be taking her to the recovery room shortly and you’ll have a chance to see her and your daughter briefly.”

  “Thank you. Thank you very much.” He sighed and Paulie and Liam patted him on his back.

  “Congratulations!”

  “Oh, a sweet baby girl! How lovely!” Mrs. O’Leahey cried.

  Mr. O’Leahey chuckled, a satisfied smirk curving around his pipe. “Looks like you’ll be needin’ your own rifle.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Colleen said, giving him a hug.

  They celebrated with cigars and waited for Maureen and his daughter to be wheeled by. He was like a kid anxiously awaiting the fire engines of a parade. When he saw the double doors open at the end of the hall he held his breath.

  Four nurses, three guiding Maureen’s gurney and one pushing a small bassinette came down the corridor. He smiled as he set eyes on his wife’s face. She looked tired indeed, but happy.

  Meeting them halfway, he went to her. “Did you see her?” she asked. “She’s so lovely, Frank. What should we name her?”

  He glanced at the tiny bundle, pink skin and strawberry hair. He laughed. “I’m a father.”

  Maureen smiled, her eyes wet with tears of joy. “And I’m a mum.”

  Taking her hand, he kissed her knuckles. “What do you want to call her, love?”

  “You decide. I’ll pick the next one.”

  He leaned over the bassinette. Her face was so tiny, a little nose and a sweet little mouth. Their love had brought this person into the world, given her life. “I think Katherine is a nice name. We could call her Kate.”

  Maureen hummed. “Kate. Like your mother? I like that very much.”

  He sighed, overwhelmed with pride and other emotions he didn’t have names for. “You’re amazing,” he told her as he kissed her one last time before the nurses wheeled her away. He slid her wedding ring back on her finger. “My beautiful wife.”

  The days that followed were full of timid bravery, each moment a new experience. When they finally took Kate home he felt like he was stealing something, but she was indeed theirs.

  Maureen took to motherhood like he knew she would. It amazed him how natural she was at parenting, knowing when their daughter needed to be rocked versus wanting to be fed.

  As the weeks passed, he grew more comfortable with fatherhood, finding it rewarding in a way nothing could compare. While the snow usually was an inconvenience for his line of work, he didn’t mind it so much that winter, as it allowed him time at home to get to know his daughter.

  It wasn’t long before Maureen’s figure returned to its original form, but there was something about her curves that enchanted him more than ever. Her thighs and hips seemed thicker, her breasts a bit fuller and soon enough he was all over her again.

  Kate wasn’t even four months old before they were expecting their second. While such an accomplishment did great things for his ego, it distressed his wife.

  “I’ll be called the trollop of Center County! Kate will have to rest on her sister or brother’s head while she nurses!”

  “You can’t be a trollop. We’re married.”

  “My fingers are so damn swollen soon enough my wedding band will have to come off, and then who will know I have a husband that put me in such a state. I’ll be waddling up and down Main Street and people will say, Oh, there goes that poor lass with her ginger baby and big belly. It’s amazing she can get off her back long enough to get the grocery shopping done.”

  “Maureen, you’re being ridiculous. Everyone knows you’re my wife.”

  She sniffled. “Aye. I’m your fat, dumpy wife.”

  “Stop that.” Her emotions hadn’t been this out of whack with the first pregnancy. “You’re beautiful.”

  “Oh, please. My arse looks like it exploded! You’re making me fat, Frank McCullough!” she accused, standing and snatching his dinner plate right out from under him.

  “Hey! I was eating that!”
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  “Tough. We’re going on a diet starting right now.” She opened the refrigerator. “I have lettuce in here somewhere.” She shifted some things around. “Who the bloody hell ate the lettuce?”

  Sighing, he stood. Kate sat in her high chair happily banging her bowl with a spoon. He grinned and brushed a hand over her strawberry curls.

  Coming up behind Maureen, he moved the mayonnaise and palmed the head of lettuce. “Here, love.”

  “Thank you.” She peeled back a leaf and stuffed it in her mouth.

  “Aren’t you going to put dressing on it or something?”

  “No.” She sniffled and shoved another leaf in her mouth.

  “Why are you crying?” He tried not to get frustrated.

  She sniffled again. “Because this tastes like wet nothing and I really would rather eat the pudding I made for Kate earlier.”

  He chuckled and took the lettuce from her, wrapping it up and putting it back in the fridge. Opening the bowl of pudding, he dug a spoon out of the drawer and scooped up a big sample of the mousse. “Eat it. Your arse is as adorable as ever and you’re not fat. You’re pregnant.”

  She debated for only a second before taking the spoon and shutting her eyes in ecstasy as her lips closed over the pudding. “Thank you, dear. I don’t know why I’m so emotional with this one. You should be grateful I’m not always crazy like this. Could you imagine?” She picked up the bowl and carried it to the table, happily eating her fill.

  “Aye. I could imagine.”

  There comes a moment as parents, when one truly questions their sanity. Not because of things said, but because after so many midnight feedings, silly squabbles over who’s turn it is with the ball, and which kid got to use the toy caterpillar last, no one’s really sure what’s right and what’s wrong. Edicts are made in terms of because I said so.

  When Colin was born, Frank’s arrogance got the better of him. Colin and Kate were two of the sweetest angels, much sweeter than all the other kids he’d met. However, he now understood this was part of God’s trickery. The first couple was easy and pleasant. Then, when they were least expecting it, God stepped in and proved just how clueless they really were.

  “Twins?” He had to have heard her wrong.

  “Yes. Twins. As in two babies,” Maureen explained as if he were an infant.

  “Mum! Colin keeps pulling my hair!”

  “You got hands, Katie girl, pull his right back.”

  He shook his head. “How the hell are we going to handle two more? There’s supposed to be time between them to recoup.”

  “Don’t you give me that bollocks,” his wife snapped. “What the hell do you have to worry about? It’s not your body they’ll be shooting out of. Good Lord, it’ll be like a flume ride, babies flyin’ everywhere. And then the nursing! This is your fault, you know.” She pointed an accusing finger at him. “Always comin’ at me with that damn cock of yours, never givin’ me a chance to rest.”

  He gawked at her. “You’re the one who say’s I don’t pay you enough attention!”

  “Oh, now I’m the jezebel? Well, let me tell you something, Frank McCullough, after this, I’m through. Four children in a matter of five years, all under the age of four. This is what I get for marrying a pervert!”

  She stormed off and he sat, dumbfounded. Twins?

  Luke and Finnegan were born in the middle of the night on a Tuesday. It had been an incredibly difficult birth for Maureen, one that made her swear off pregnancy. She’d even sworn off sex for a while, but he’d talked her out of that one.

  Still, she was insistent that her body needed a break and her doctor suggested she try the birth control pill. Frank agreed.

  Though their lives were full and their hearts grateful, four children were a lot and the six of them could barely go anywhere in a car together, let alone enjoy things like a dinner at a fancy restaurant—not that Center County was a fancy place.

  They weren’t certain they were done having children, but they needed a break to catch their breath. Nobody told him the pill wasn’t foolproof.

  The news came early spring after a long winter. Apparently, when Maureen had been fighting a bad bug going around and the doctor prescribed her an antibiotic, the medication interfered with the pill. The two of them never saw it coming and there were no warning signs like the others.

  This pregnancy was quiet. Maureen was serene and content, despite the surprise. Finding out so late left them only five months to prepare and when their fourth son was born, God apparently took mercy on their souls. Braydon was a golden haired angel that rarely cried and always smiled.

  After Braydon, Maureen had fallen back in love with the idea of babies. It became a joke amongst the family as to how many children they would have. Her sisters teased her, calling her the lady that lived in a shoe with too many sons to know what to do, but Maureen wasn’t bothered. She loved and adored all of her children equally, and once she had four, five didn’t seem to make much of a difference. Maybe six wouldn’t either.

  Trying for six was more fun than all the rest for some reason. It was summer and the twins were finally potty-trained. Kate was growing up so fast and a great help with the younger ones, especially Braydon, who she adored.

  Colin was growing into an inquisitive boy, someone Frank sometimes struggled to relate to. Luke and Finn on the other hand seemed determined to break the house. It amazed him how five kids all from the same parents could be so incredibly different.

  The warmer months were easiest, because they got Maureen and the kids out of the house. It took about six years to get the hang of it, but he thought they finally had it down to a science.

  When Maureen didn’t get pregnant the moment she decided she wanted to be, she of course became frustrated. Her sisters were both pregnant and that didn’t help matters. Frank did his best to get a child in her belly—a grueling task indeed—part of him was enjoying the effort it took and in no rush to hit his mark.

  The more they tried the more he wanted to increase his efforts. He had her in the mornings, during the day when he stopped home for lunch, and as soon as the kids went down for bed each night. One day he even took her right against the barn while the kids played in the distance with Colleen and their cousins.

  True, it took a valiant effort to get her pregnant that time, but he’d never felt like more of a man than he had that summer. Kelly McCullough, the fifth McCullough son and sixth child in all, was born with dark black hair and bright blue eyes, a mirror image of Frank.

  “This one will be the death of me, Frank. Look at him. He’s a carbon copy of you and I swear I’ve never seen an infant flirt, but this one can charm a smile out of anything with tits. The lassies will be breaking down our doors.”

  As it turned out, there was quite a difference between five and six. Kelly was nothing like Braydon or any of the others. He was a daredevil, always getting into something he shouldn’t and so damn cute it was nearly impossible to yell at him, but in time that would likely change and he’d have his fair share of discipline.

  They’d been so busy with homework and little league and potty-training Kelly—who never kept his damn Underroos on anyway—they seemed to miss the moment Maureen’s cycle should have started. But soon enough they were made aware and his beautiful wife was pregnant once more.

  Again, this time was different. Maureen seemed to relish every part of it, even the unpleasant moments. One night, after the children were all asleep, he found her sitting out front on a rocker, knitting a pair of pink booties. He slipped into the chair beside her and held out his hand, palm up.

  She sighed and tucked away her yarn as she dropped her hand into his and together they rocked, embracing the silence. With six children, silence was a rare and incredible thing.

  She sighed. “This will likely be our last, Frank. I’m tired.”

  “Aye. But would you change anything, love?”

  She smiled and rested her head against the back of the chair. “No.”

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bsp; She laughed softly. “I’m convinced if I keep making pink clothes God will give me a girl. I don’t know if I can handle another son. They’re breaking all my nice stuff. Luke used my good flowerpot as a football helmet today. The jackass is lucky he didn’t need stitches when he was done head butting the barn. I swear he gets that from your side of the family.”

  “Careful what you wish for. Not every daughter is easy. Just because Kate was, doesn’t mean the next one will be. We could wind up with a Colleen.”

  She gasped. “Bite your tongue!”

  He chuckled. “They’re good kids.”

  “Aye,” she agreed. “We’re truly blessed.”

  That summer, Maureen’s father passed away suddenly and she spent a great deal of her last pregnancy crying. There was nothing to do for her grief. It was simply something she had to work through. Her mother came around more frequently, which helped with the kids and meals and such.

  Frank was sad to lose the man that challenged him more than his own father had. For Maureen, the year she shared with her father as their family grew brought much joy. He was a stubborn, but good grandfather, who loved his grandchildren dearly.

  It had been a very long time since Frank had seen his wife truly sad and he wanted to give her the time needed to process the loss. He regretted that a depression had deprived her of fully embracing her pregnancy, but she’d loved her father very much and losing a parent was—in his experience—a process that took years to fathom.

  Sheilagh came into the world without warning. Maureen’s water broke just after midnight and her contractions were so intense and so quick they’d barely made it to the hospital in time. With fiery red hair and eyes greener than Dublin fields, he knew this one would give them a devil of a time.

  She had every bit of strong will her mother had and more. She was barely an infant for more than a few months. Everything about Sheilagh seemed faster than what the others had done. All she needed was to see her older siblings do something and she’d set her mind to teaching herself. The child had too much independence, but she was so clever there was no slowing her down. She walked, talked, and read earlier than any of the others had.