Chapter 13
Of all the twists and turns his life could have taken, Brogan had never seen this one coming. The week following the storm was nothing short of wild. It started with how differently Pixie acted toward him.
Proprietary. With more open affection. It was as if she’d come to a decision, and regardless of what he thought about it, she was going to proceed in the way she considered best.
She wanted to pamper him.
Brogan had been largely independent most of his life.
Even as a young kid, he’d taken care of himself.
His mother had supplied a roof over his head, and usually there was enough food, as long as he prepared it for himself.
She’d never bothered herself with his injuries, his grades, his friends, or what time he got home.
Being doted on wasn’t something he wanted. Or did he?
Brogan had to admit—on rare occasions—it was nice to have Pixie taking care of him.
Like the night of the storm. He’d rushed through his shower, only to find her in the kitchen with the kids, the groceries put away, the puddles in the foyer cleaned up, and a sandwich and tea at the table waiting for him.
Both kids had smiled at him. Pixie had asked if he wanted anything else.
Yeah, he wanted all kinds of things, most of them right in front of him.
Warily, he’d thanked her, and after they’d eaten, he tried to repay her kindness by watching the kids and tidying the kitchen while she took her own shower. At that point, the kids were in better moods and there wasn’t much mess, so it didn’t feel equal at all.
Over the next few days, she found multiple reasons to do things for him. And to touch him. He liked her touches the best. Any connection with Pixie seemed meaningful, and the way she looked at him, with admiration in her eyes, made him feel like a better man.
It wasn’t something he’d experienced before, at least not from a woman. With her, anything seemed possible. And maybe it was.
The next day, they visited Dee Pearson together to see how she was after the accident. She had far too many bruises on her thin, fragile skin, but her spirit was intact. As peppy as ever, she still enjoyed razzing Brogan.
“I think you jinxed me, young man,” she said as she led them into her formal living room, using a cane for added support. “If you hadn’t told me to drive carefully, none of that would have happened.”
“I’ll take full blame if it makes you feel better,” he replied.
“It always makes me feel better to blame someone else.” She gestured for them to sit, then eyed the way Pixie held Shayna while Andy clung to Brogan’s neck.
It makes sense for me, Brogan told himself, to carry the bigger kid. He knew Pixie managed well enough on her own, but he liked holding Andy.
As he sat, Andy tried to scamper off, but Brogan lifted him so his shoes wouldn’t be on Dee’s couch. Honest to God, her furniture looked as if it had never been used. And the upholstery was a pale pink. He felt uncomfortable just sitting there, as if he might dirty it somehow.
“He’s a fast one, isn’t he?” Dee said. “At that age, everything is a learning experience.” She went into her dining room, opened the bottom of a china cabinet, and got out a set of wooden nesting dolls that looked like animals.
A bear, a fox, an owl … Brogan wasn’t sure of the rest. “Would you like to see these, my boy?”
Andy looked at her shyly.
“Come on then.” She set the individual dolls on the cushion of a side chair. “That’s about the right height for you.”
Brogan looked at Pixie for direction.
She nodded, but said, “Very gently, Andy. We don’t want to break them.”
Dee showed him how they could be stored inside each other, patted his head, and then slowly made her way to her own seat. “That old set is indestructible. I’ve had it forever.”
With his arms now empty, Brogan sat forward. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine and dandy.”
“Yet using a cane.”
“Nothing gets by you, does it?” She gave him a mock glare. “So I’m a little sore. At my age, if I paid attention to every ache or pain, I’d never make it out of bed.”
“Fair enough.” Amused, he glanced around. “Where’s your dog?”
“Sleeping right there. He doesn’t hear well anymore.”
He and Pixie looked to where she pointed, just behind the dining-room table, and sure enough, a large gray dog was sprawled over a dog bed, overflowing it in every direction.
Brogan grinned. “What type of dog is he?”
“The type that puts up with old ladies.” Looking over her glasses, she said, “I got him from the shelter. The best dogs come from there, you know. After you get settled in, you should visit and pick out a fifth member for your family. All kids, even babies, deserve a dog.”
Fifth member for your family … Since Pixie didn’t seem inclined to correct Dee, Brogan let that one go. He liked animals, but he’d never been in a position to have one. He could almost visualize Andy with a big affectionate pup.
Or perhaps an older, calmer dog. Not that he could adopt a pet for Andy. Pixie was his mother, and much as Brogan wished it otherwise, he was not the boy’s dad.
Over the next hour of their visit, while they sipped iced tea and ate cookies, Dee asked about Shayna, about Brogan being a SEAL—because apparently everyone in the area now knew—and she thanked him for helping her.
“Is there anything I can do for you today? I wouldn’t mind at all,” Brogan offered.
Pixie chimed in, saying, “We’d be happy to run errands for you. And Brogan is good at heavy lifting.”
“I’m sure he’s good at a great many things.” Dee winked. “With this young family, though, I’m sure you’ve both got your hands full.”
There was no mistaking her meaning, and Brogan had to grin.
“There is one thing. You said you’d be seeing the young man who lost control of his truck?”
“We’re going there next,” Pixie explained.
“I made a casserole this morning for him and his family, and I have cupcakes. Everything is wrapped up and ready to go, if you wouldn’t mind taking it to them.”
Pixie nodded. “We’d be happy to.”
Brogan hadn’t known there were people like this.
People who greeted you in their home, thanked you profusely for doing nothing, and offered gifts to those who had harmed them.
Granted, Gunther hadn’t meant to crash his truck.
He hadn’t been drinking or speeding or driving recklessly.
He was just a young man who’d been unable to pay for new tires.
“You’re something else, Ms. Pearson.”
“Call me Dee. We’re friends now.” She smiled at them both. “What a handsome couple you make.” She gestured at the kids. “All that blond hair and those blue eyes. No one will know if they got it from their mama or their daddy.”
Brogan said, “Well …” as he tried to figure out how to get Dee on the right track, but Pixie merely laughed.
He didn’t think it’d be long before Pixie started telling people the kids were actually half siblings. She now seemed pleased when someone mentioned their resemblance to each other.
Dee leaned toward Pixie and whispered loudly, “He’s a good catch.”
“I agree,” Pixie said.
Slyly, proving she knew what she was doing, Dee said, “Of course, any man would be thrilled to have you, too, young lady, as pretty as you are.”
That’s when Brogan felt it was necessary to make a strategic retreat. “If you’re sure there isn’t anything else you need, we should get going.”
Dee began struggling out of her chair, until Brogan stepped forward to help her. In the kitchen, she had him write down his number just in case anything came up. “You won’t mind if I call you?”
“Of course not,” he promised. “I’ll try to help however I can.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t forget that you have those little ones to look after.” She got out the casserole, which had heating instructions taped to the top of the plastic wrap covering it. The cupcakes were ready to go. “I made this for you, too.”
He eyed the covered dish. “What is it?”
“An apple pie. That’s my specialty. I enjoy puttering in the kitchen, but I can only make so much for myself.”
No one had ever given him anything before. Definitely, no one had ever baked him a pie. “Thank you, Dee. Apple pie is my favorite.”
“Perfect.”
He carried the dishes out to the SUV first, then came back in for Pixie, Shayna, and Andy. In the usual course of his day, he wasn’t a demonstrative person, at least not with anyone other than Shayna. But he couldn’t leave without bending down and giving Dee a careful hug.
She embraced him back, then whispered softly, “Thank you.”
He was still thinking about her kindness fifteen minutes later when they arrived at Gunther’s house.
It was a very small but well-kept ranch sitting on a couple of acres.
Trees, a stocked pond, a large garden—to Brogan, it looked like paradise.
Gunther’s wife, Lily, who had a red nose from her cold, joined Pixie and the kids on the back patio, but she kept her distance because she didn’t want them to catch anything.
Gunther, his five-year old son, Toby, and the dog walked the property with Brogan.
The kid talked a mile a minute, telling Brogan how he and his dad were building a fort in one of the bigger trees, and how they liked to fish in the evening.
Pretty soon, Toby said, they were going to put in a dock and get a small paddleboat.
Gunther shook his head. “None of that right away. Just a few dreams we have.”
Brogan stroked the dog, which bounded around as if greeting an old friend. “It sounds nice. All of it.” They arrived at a detached garage, where the truck had been towed.
Not surprisingly, it was out of commission. Gunther was using his wife’s small car, but he didn’t like to leave her without transportation.
“Me, a mechanic, driving on bald tires and with low coolant. You’d think I’d know better. It’s just …” Frustrated, Gunther let his words trail off.