Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
FORD
After taking some time at Bree’s place for hot cocoa and a little more discussion of next steps, Peyton gathered up her stuff—just one stuffed backpack… Jesus, the sight of that single bag about cut me off at the knees—and we headed for home. It was still home, though I hadn’t lived here full time in years, just visiting Mom and Mimi during holidays and long breaks. I didn’t know whether it would be home again moving forward, whether I’d need to find a place better suited for a teenager, with her own room and space to grow. That was another of those details I hadn’t figured out yet, one more item on the ever-growing list of things I needed to sort through.
One step at a time, Donoghue .
My grip on the steering wheel tightened as we passed the marina, and I took the turn onto the road that wound through the salt marsh, toward the far southern tip of the island. The silence in the car was broken only by the crunch of shells under tires as we drew closer. It was still a few hours out from sunset, but the lighthouse itself speared up, a beacon in the afternoon sky. Seabirds wheeled overhead, their cries carrying on the salt-laden breeze that buffeted the car.
Peyton pressed her face to the window. “ That’s where you live?”
“Where I grew up. Yeah.” I slowed the car so she could really take in the view of the place. How long had it been since I’d done the same? Looking at it now, I tried to imagine what Peyton saw. A tall, whitewashed tower beside a cozy house that had been expanded every which way in a charming jumble of additions that somehow worked as a whole. Mom and Mimi had painted the shutters a cheerful red last spring, and the flower boxes beneath each window overflowed with the pansies that were tough enough to survive the winter, a riot of color against the weathered shingles.
“The lighthouse itself was decommissioned years ago. My moms bought and renovated it and the attached caretaker’s cottage. They’re still here.” I watched Peyton carefully, trying to gauge her reaction to that particular detail. The last thing I wanted was for her to feel uncomfortable, especially since we were just starting to build some trust.
“You have two moms?”
“Yup. Florence—she’s my biological mom—and Delilah, her wife. That’s Mimi.” I smiled, remembering how Mimi had earned that nickname from all my friends growing up, not just me. Her warm, nurturing presence had made her everyone’s second mom.
Her brow furrowed. “What about your bio dad?”
“Never met him.” I let out a humorless laugh. “Something we’ve got in common.” The words came out before I could stop them, and I winced. “Sort of.” I gripped the steering wheel tighter, cursing my lack of filter. Here I was, trying to be the responsible adult she needed, and I’d just reminded her of exactly how I’d failed her.
My stomach churned as I stared up at the lighthouse windows, the panes glinting in the afternoon sun. By some miracle, word hadn’t reached my moms yet about their surprise granddaughter. I knew I’d have heard from them if they had. Probably in the form of about fifty missed calls and concerned text messages. I had Bree to thank for that. She’d moved fast to keep Peyton under wraps until I could get here, proving once again she was better at handling crises than I was.
I had a lot about this situation to thank Bree for. But it would have to wait. Right now, I had bigger fires to put out.
My palms went sweaty on the steering wheel as I pulled up in front of the house, the tires crunching on the shell-strewn driveway. I had no playbook for this, no training manual on how to tell your parents they had a teenage granddaughter you never knew about. Hell, I barely knew how to process it myself. The Navy had trained me for countless scenarios, but nothing like this. All I could do was stumble forward, hoping each next decision wasn’t completely wrong.
A curtain in the front window stirred, the gauzy fabric dancing briefly before falling still. Probably Mimi. She’d have heard the car, always alert to visitors. This time of day, I knew she was liable to be home working on her pottery, or maybe in the attic workshop. I wasn’t sure about Mom’s court schedule today, and the doors to the garage were down, leaving me guessing whether I’d be facing them both at the same time.
Well, if I had to go through this more than once, so be it. We’d get through it. I’d spent enough years dealing with my moms’ particular brand of loving interference to handle whatever came next.
“What if they don’t like me?” Peyton’s voice was small, with no trace of her earlier bravado. Her fingers twisted the hem of her sweater, a nervous habit I’d noticed over the past couple of hours.
“Not possible.” I turned to face her, trying to project more confidence than I felt. “They’re going to love you. Fair warning though—Mimi’s probably going to try to feed you about twelve different things in the first hour. She shows love through food. Her chocolate chip cookies alone are worth the price of admission.”
“What about your other mom?”
“My friends call her Mama Flo. She tends toward more aggressive momming and has been occasionally known to slide into smothering territory. It’s all very well intentioned, but boundaries are a thing. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” I fought the urge to reach out and squeeze her shoulder, still unsure how much physical contact she was comfortable with.
She shot me a little side eye that showed she didn’t fully believe me. And why should she? She didn’t know me. But she would. I had to believe that time would prove my commitment.
“You ready?” I asked.
Peyton took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders like a soldier heading into battle. “I guess we’ll find out.”
The front door squeaked as I shoved it open, the hinges protesting exactly as they had since I was a kid. The sound of my childhood. “Mom? Mimi?”
Movement from the kitchen caught my eye as Mimi’s head poked around the corner, flour dusting her dark curls and the bridge of her pert little nose, standing out like freckles against her dark brown skin. “Ford?” Her eyes went wide, and she wiped her hands on her apron. “What are you doing here? I thought you had training.”
“I did. Do, technically.” That was a whole other mess I’d have to sort out later. My commanding officer wasn’t thrilled about my abrupt departure, and he was gonna be less so about whatever came next, but some things couldn’t wait.
Mom’s voice carried from upstairs, sharp and concerned. “Is that Ford?” Footsteps thundered down, and she appeared at the landing, case files tucked under one arm, reading glasses shoved up on top of her head where they threatened to fall. Her business suit was wrinkled, which meant she’d been working from home this afternoon. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” I cleared my throat, trying to project a calm I definitely didn’t feel. “But something called me back early.”
Peyton hung back in the doorway, half-hidden behind me like she was using my bulk as a shield. Anxiety rolled off her in waves, making the air feel thick and heavy between us. Hell, my own heart hammered against my ribs so hard I was sure everyone could hear it.
“There’s someone I want you to meet.” I turned back and held out my hand, beckoning Peyton forward. My palm was sweaty, and I fought the urge to wipe it on my jeans.
She shuffled into the room, shoulders hunched, looking about as small as she could make herself, despite her height. Her eyes darted between my mothers, then fixed on the floor, her fingers back to twisting the hem of the sweater.
“This is Peyton.” I swallowed hard, the words nearly sticking in my throat as the magnitude of what I was about to say crashed over me at full force. “Your granddaughter.”
The files hit the floor with a thud, papers spilling out across the hardwood. Mom’s mouth fell open, her green eyes wide with shock. Mimi’s hand flew to her chest, leaving a floury handprint on her brightly patterned shirt.
“Ford Michael Donoghue, why is this the first we’re hearing about this?” Mom’s voice cracked like a whip, carrying that sharp tone I remembered all too well from my teenage years. The one that meant I was in serious trouble.
Beside me, Peyton flinched, and I instinctively shifted closer, wanting to shield her, though I knew Mom’s displeasure was absolutely aimed at me instead of her. The protective urge surprised me. It felt both foreign and completely natural at the same time.
Peyton inched a little closer, her shoulder barely brushing against my arm as she shot a worried glance up at me. She whispered, her voice carrying a hint of nervous amusement, “She middle named you.” The corner of her mouth twitched, like she was trying not to smile despite her obvious anxiety.
Despite everything, I felt a smile tugging at my lips. “Not remotely for the first time, I can promise you.” I reached back and squeezed Peyton’s shoulder, grateful she didn’t flinch away from my touch. “I only found out yesterday, Mom. That’s why I’m back. I came straight here as soon as I could get leave.”
Mom’s eyes narrowed, her lawyer face firmly in place. The same expression I’d seen her wear in countless courtrooms when she was about to dig into a particularly troublesome witness. “But who?” She paused, and I could see the wheels turning behind those sharp green eyes. “Not Emily.”
“No.” Thank God for small mercies. My on-again, off-again relationship with my college girlfriend had been volatile enough without throwing a secret baby into the mix. We’d broken up and gotten back together so many times it had made everyone’s heads spin. “Her name was Casey.”
“Was?” Mimi’s voice was soft, gentle, carrying that note of motherly concern that had gotten me through some rough patches growing up.
I glanced down at Peyton, who’d gone still beside me, her gaze fixed on the floor as if she could somehow make herself invisible. My heart ached at the obvious pain in her rigid posture. “She… died.”
The words dropped into the silence like stones in still water. Mimi lasted all of three seconds before she’d dropped her kitchen towel and closed the distance, scooping Peyton into a tight, cinnamon-scented hug. Had she been making snickerdoodles when we got here?
“Oh, sweet girl. I’m so, so sorry.” She rocked Peyton back and forth, even though Peyton was almost a head taller already.
I braced myself, ready to intervene in case this was all too much too fast for my daughter. But after only a few moments, she melted, returning the embrace. Such was the great power of Mimi.
On the stairs, Mom’s face had lost the stern lawyer’s set and softened into a warmth and vulnerability few outside of family ever saw. Her eyes held a multitude of questions, but she bit them back for now.
“Right, so I know this is a shock, but we’ve got a lot to figure out, and not a lot of time to do it in. I thought y’all could help with that.” My voice wavered slightly, betraying the nervous energy thrumming through my body.
Mom knelt and gathered up the scattered files, her movements precise and methodical as always. “Well, there are certainly a lot of details that need filling in. I’ll put on the kettle.” Calm. Practical. Let’s do what comes next. These were the traits that had made her the anchor of my childhood.
Mimi kept her arm around Peyton’s shoulders and ushered her toward the kitchen, radiating the warmth she was famous for. “You just come right on in here, sugar. I’ve got snickerdoodles coming out of the oven in ten minutes.” The scent of cinnamon and butter was already wafting through the house.
Peyton shot me a cautiously amused glance, the ghost of a smile playing at her lips. I smiled back and mouthed, Told you . Already, I could see her shoulders relaxing fractionally under Mimi’s gentle guidance.
Mom stopped next to me, fixing me with a meaningful stare. The kind that had always made me feel like she could see straight through to my soul.
“It’s real,” I murmured.
“Oh, I can see that with my own eyes.” She skimmed a hand through my hair in the way she’d been doing since I was no higher than her knee. She had to reach a lot farther now. “I’m guessing we have to set about proving it before things get messy. And they will get messy, won’t they, Ford?”
“You guess correctly.” My throat felt tight with everything left unsaid, everything we both knew was coming.
Nodding, she squared her shoulders, and I saw the lawyer in her emerge—the fierce protector who’d fought for environmental justice up and down the coast. “Then let’s get to work.”