Forever Mine: Callaghan Brothers, Book 9 (22 page)

Seated on the floor in front of him, Kane and Jake high-fived. “Told you it was going to be a boy.”

“Did not.”

“Did so.”

Jack narrowed his eyes and fixed them on the doc. “I’m sorry. You are?”

The man laughed and extended his hand. “Dr. John Christman. I’m assisting Kathleen’s regular OB tonight.”

Jack took his hand, registering the soft, uncalloused hands. The thought of those hands on his wife didn’t sit well, doctor or not.

“Your wife is an amazing woman, Mr. Callaghan,” Prettyboy said with a smile. “Made my job a piece of cake. Obviously not your first,” he said, looking at the two black-haired, blue-eyed boys flanking Jack’s legs.

“Third. How is she?”

“Excellent. I wish all of my patients were as cooperative,” he chuckled.

It was an effort to refrain from wiping that smile right off the guy’s face. “Can we see her?”

“Soon. We’re trying to find a room for her now. As you can tell, a lot of little ones decided tonight was the night. It happens every time there’s a full moon.” The doc reached down and ruffled Kane’s hair. Kane scowled back at him, making Jack proud. “In the meantime, I hear they’re serving chocolate ice cream in the cafeteria tonight.”

“Chocolate ice cream!” Jake repeated excitedly after the doctor made his exit. “Can we get some, Dad?”

The last thing he felt like doing at that moment was navigating the crowded cafeteria. He wanted to see Kathleen, to see for himself that everything was all right. He wanted to hold her hand and kiss her lips and tell her how much he loved her. He wanted to hold his newborn son, count his fingers and toes. But he also knew from prior experience that it would take time for the doctors and nurses to check out the baby and clean him up; the same went for Kathleen. None of that mattered to him, he’d seen far worse, but since he had the boys with him, he would force himself to be patient.

“Sure. Maybe we’ll even pick up a little extra for your mom. I’d say she’s earned it.”

It took much longer than expected, but Jack, Kane, and Jake were eventually directed to a semi-private room. Kathleen was sitting up in bed, looking tired but radiant and holding a swaddled bundle in her arms.

Her eyes met his, and he swore that in that moment, he fell in love with her all over again.

“Come on in,” she said softly, “and meet your little brother.”

Jack lifted both Kane and Jake onto the chair beside the bed so they could peek over the railing.

“Yep, he’s a Callaghan,” Kane said.

Jack leaned over and took in the black hair and bright blue eyes. He looked just like Kane and Jake had, though maybe not quite as big at only nine pounds, eight ounces.

“What are we going to name him?” Jake asked.

“Ian,” Kathleen said with a smile. “Ian Patrick Callaghan.”

S
eptember 2015

Pine Ridge

“Everything okay, Dad?” his third-born son asked, breaking into his reverie.

“Aye. I was just thinking about the day you were born.” His lips curled at the memory. “I’ve never seen your mother come so close to thumping another woman as she did that bubble-headed nurse.”

Michael laughed at that. “I’d forgotten about that. She messed up the birth certificates, didn’t she?”

“Aye. Your mother and I wanted to name you Ian, after your great-grandfather. But things were chaotic that night, and the overworked lass got the names mixed up. You became Michael Patrick Callaghan, and the woman down the hall took home Ian Constantine Delvecchio. Sure enough, Michael is a fine name,” Jack continued. “But Erin had already claimed it for her firstborn.”

“It did make for some awkward moments during family get-togethers,” Michael grinned.

“Aye, it did at that.”

“Why didn’t you have it changed?”

“Ach. A tangle of red tape. Plus your mother said you didn’t really look much like an Ian anyway,” Jack laughed. He tried to picture Michael as an Ian and it just didn’t work. “She was right about that. So. Why have you sought me out?”

Michael shrugged. “Do I need a reason?”

“No, I suppose not,” Jack said carefully. “But knowing you, you have one.”

“Yeah, okay. I thought you might like to do something today, away from here.”

Jack turned his gaze back to the fields below. He
did
want to get away. The farm was beautiful and Maggie was bending over backwards to accommodate him and make him feel welcome, but this feeling of being dependent upon others weighed heavily. He hated the post-bypass restriction of not being able to drive for six weeks, and that he couldn’t come and go as he pleased.

“What did you have in mind?”

“I thought I’d leave that up to you.”

Jack didn’t hesitate. “I want to go to the Pub.”

Michael grinned. “Thought you might.”

Good man, Michael.

Before long they were on their way into Pine Ridge proper. When they arrived at the Pub, Michael pulled around and stopped in front of the back door, but made no move to get out of the car.

“You’re not coming?” Jack asked.

“No. I’ve got some stuff to do at the hospital. I’ll be back for you in a few hours. Only once up and down the steps, and slowly. Doctor’s orders. And if that isn’t enough incentive,” Michael smirked, “I’m telling Maggie.”

Jack acknowledged Michael’s gift with a nod. That was the difference between men and women, or at least one of the many. Much of a man’s sense of dignity came from doing things for himself. When he had to depend on others, he felt like less of a man. Kathleen used to say that kind of thinking came from a lingering strand of cavemen DNA, and maybe she was right. He’d been raised by a generation where gender roles were far more rigid than they were today; his parents’, even more so.

It didn’t matter. Outdated or not, he had definite ideas on what made a man a man. Honor. Pride. Strength. Courage. Self-reliance. When things got tough, a man pulled himself up by his bootstraps and did what he needed to do. He provided for his family, even if it meant selling a part of his soul to do it.

––––––––

D
ecember 1982

Pine Ridge

Jack sat at the kitchen table, wolfing down a sandwich before he opened the Pub for business. In a rare moment, seven-year-old Kane and five-year-old Jake were actually getting along, laughing together as they built and destroyed towers of painted wooden blocks and Legos on the floor. Three-year-old Michael sat nearby with a stack of pop-up books, glancing up every now and then to check out their progress. And one-year-old Ian made a game of snatching blocks away from his older brothers and cackling wickedly before flinging them back at their heads. Each time he did, one of the older boys would reach out and knock him over, but it didn’t stop him. He’d pretend to pout for a minute or two, then approach from a different angle.

Their physical resemblance was striking; all were big for their age, with jet black hair and bright blue eyes. There was no doubt they were his sons; each was a slightly different image of him at those ages.

Personality-wise, however, they were quite different. Kane was quiet and intense. Jake was intense, too, but tended to be a bit more tactful to get what he wanted. Michael was studious, preferring puzzles and books to trucks and cap guns. And Ian, well, Ian was what his grandmother would have gleefully called a “mischievous imp”. His primary source of amusement was anything that annoyed his older brothers.

Jack took a moment to appreciate the scene. He had a beautiful, loving wife, and four happy, healthy sons with another child on the way. He couldn’t have asked for anything more.

Except possibly a bit more money in their bank account. Celebrating two birthdays and Christmas in one month left them more strapped than usual.

The bar was turning a decent profit, only because they’d all but put a stop to the renovations. Kathleen was squeezing every last penny she could out of the budget, hitting up the yard sales and farmer’s markets to ensure the boys had clothes on their backs and food in their bellies. She had even taken to making homemade baby food from the fresh fruits and veggies and freezing it in ice-cube trays to save money.

He wondered how previous generations had managed with lots of kids and stay-at-home moms. Then again, inflation and the cost of living were much higher now than they had been. More women were working now, increasing the number of double-income homes. Prices got higher, because more people could afford to pay them. The sleepy town of Pine Ridge was ages behind the rest of the country, but they were feeling the pinch, too.

“It’s not enough,” he breathed.

“What’s not enough?” Kathleen looked over her shoulder as she chopped up the carrots, onions, and potatoes and tossed them into the cast iron pot, along with a few chunks of stew meat. The woman had a gift for making low-cost cuts taste like filet mignon. It wasn’t long before a savory aroma filled the kitchen.

“Nothing. Just thinking out loud.”

He took a good look at the flannel shirt she wore, nearly threadbare. She’d taken to wearing his things as her belly grew larger, arguing that maternity clothes were a waste of money when his shirts were roomy and comfortable. When was the last time she’d bought something for herself? Or better yet, when was the last time he’d bought something for her?

His gaze went to the stacks of files and papers and account books lined up neatly on the pantry shelves. Three-ring binders in various colors, their spines bearing the names of local businesses in Kathleen’s precise, blocked script, held financial records; an assortment of shoeboxes in various sizes with color-coded, matching labels contained supporting receipts.

Was he imagining it, or were there more than there had been? She’d told him countless times that she liked working, but it bothered him that she had to, to make ends meet.

“Did you take on another client?” he asked bluntly.

She snipped a few leaves from the small, hand-painted pots lined up on the windowsill (school art projects), and tossed some fresh herbs into the pot. After a stir or two, she covered it and came to sit beside him. “Yes. Two more, actually. Ackerman’s Hardware and O’Shea’s Butcher Shop.”

“Why?”

She exhaled. “Because Sandy Ackerman said they’d give us a discount on supplies, and Cam O’Shea’s throwing in a side of beef a year as a perk.”

Bartering wasn’t uncommon in Pine Ridge. Local businesses supported each other, offering discounts and incentives to one another, but Kathleen had routinely turned away requests for her accounting services, saying she was already pushing the limits of what she could handle comfortably. The fact that she’d taken on more now, as well as the specific businesses she’d accepted, was telling.

“You’re already working too hard. Things aren’t that bad, are they?”

Her gaze faltered, falling to land where her hand covered his forearm. “I... had my checkup yesterday.”

His heart skipped a beat or three. He remembered her mentioning that Erin was going to watch the kids while she went, but then things got busy and he’d forgotten to ask her about it. Guilt washed over him. He felt about two inches tall.

“And? Is something wrong?”

“Not wrong,” she assured him, choosing her words carefully. “But unexpected.”

Jack’s brows drew together in concern. “Unexpected?”

She bit her lip. “The doctor heard two heartbeats.”

He blinked and leaned forward. She’d spoken so quietly, he was sure he’d misheard. “Come again?”

She took a deep breath and rubbed her distended belly. “We’re having twins, Jack.”

“Twins.”

She nodded.

“Holy shite.”

“Holy shite,” Ian mimicked gleefully, having ambled his way over to the table without them noticing. “Holy shite, holy shite, holy shite.”

Sensing the inappropriateness of the phrase, the other three boys stopped what they were doing and looked up in interest. Kathleen shot Jack a gimlet eye, but he was too stunned for it to have full effect.

“Ian!” Kathleen warned him. “Say that again and I’ll be washing your mouth out with soap.”

It wouldn’t be the first time. Their youngest had a knack for picking up words and phrases not intended for little ears, and took great delight in repeating them to anyone who would listen.

Ian clamped his lips together, but his eyes glittered devilishly.

The loud rumble of a delivery truck arriving reminded him that he had a Pub to be opening. “We will talk more about this later,” he promised.

––––––––

“T
wins,” Brian whistled at closing time as he locked the Pub door and grabbed the broom. “No shit.”

Jack looked up from the bar sink. “No shite.”

Several hours later, Kathleen’s bombshell was still sinking in. At a time when the core American family unit was shrinking, theirs was growing. Having come from small families themselves, both had wanted lots of kids, often joking of having an even half-dozen.

So far, they were well on their way. After four boys, news of Kathleen’s latest pregnancy was welcome, but neither surprising nor overwhelming. Each one had proven to be easier than the last, because they had all the essentials -—crib, swing, changing table, clothes, toys—– and knew what to expect.

But twins,
that
was something new.

“You’re a virile bastard, aren’t you? At least you don’t have anyone questioning your masculinity.”

Jack felt for his friend. He and his wife, Adonia, had been trying for kids but so far, hadn’t been successful. Their family doctor suggested a fertility specialist, but Brian was stalling because the tests were outrageously expensive and not typically covered by basic health insurance.

“No, but I am questioning myself and the ability to provide for my family,” Jack admitted. “Kathleen took on two new clients.”

“How is that going to work?” Brian asked, echoing his thoughts. “She’s already got her hands full.”

“Damned if I know.”

“You know, I’ve been thinking.”

Something about the tone of Brian’s voice had the hairs on the back of Jack’s neck going rigid.

“Never a good thing.”

Instead of chuckling as Jack had intended, Brian didn’t rise to the bait. “I called Sammy,” he said quietly.