Chapter 6
six
Feeling guilty for his plan to sneak out of the Bradshaw house without speaking to anyone, Malcolm made a quick note of apology to his hosts, leaving it on his neatly made bed.
Okay, neatly was a stretch. He knew it wasn’t up to Mrs. Bradshaw’s high standards, but at least he’d tried.
He hated to admit it, but being in that house felt downright creepy.
And creepy wasn’t a word he’d used since grade school.
At first he’d thought it might be a nice departure to stay in such a picture-perfect home.
Sort of like a high-end Airbnb. But it didn’t take long to feel uncomfortable.
It wasn’t just the over-the-top neatness—the whole house felt stifling.
And after rehanging the towel he’d used so it could dry, although he suspected it should go in a laundry hamper somewhere, he got the unexplainable urge to let out a loud howl.
Sort of how one might feel amid a silent crowd at a funeral that runs too long.
By the time he was sneaking back to his parents’ house, he felt like a prisoner of war upon release, and when he walked through the front door, seeing siblings, nieces, and nephews in various stages of rumpled dress and scruffy hair, he knew he’d been delivered.
“Free at last, free at last,” he proclaimed, “thank God Almighty, I’m free at last.”
His dad laughed as he emerged from the dining room with an oversized mug of coffee. “That bad?”
Malcolm blew out a sigh. “It’s a different world over there.”
“Well, the gals have set out a scrumptious spread in here.” Erik led the way to the cluttered dining room, where the table was crowded with various dishes of breakfast foods.
Malcolm grinned and picked up a plate from the mismatched stack at one end. “Home sweet home,” he said quietly.
“So, how did it go over there?” Erik asked as he cut into some kind of baked egg concoction that looked yummy.
“Honestly?” Malcolm picked up a blueberry muffin and sniffed with appreciation.
“Yeah.”
Malcolm glanced around to see he and Dad were the only ones in earshot, then lowered his voice. “It was creepy.”
Erik’s brows arched. “Creepy?”
“That’s not the right word. But it just felt so weird. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. Kind of like visiting a foreign country—a hostile one. Or maybe another planet.”
Erik chuckled. “Yeah, I sometimes feel a little like that when I’m over there.”
“Do you go over there much?”
“Not much. I don’t feel particularly welcome, if you know what I mean.”
“I didn’t feel particularly welcome either. Mrs. Bradshaw was not happy to see me. And she wasn’t very good at hiding it.”
Erik’s brow creased. “Does this affect how you feel about Olivia?”
“I don’t know, Dad. To be honest, it scares me a little. I remember hearing once that before you marry a girl, you should take a good hard look at her mother because that’s what you could end up with.”
“Marry?” Erik laid two strips of bacon on his already full plate.
“Yeah, that’s premature, I know. But even if you’re just dating someone, I think it could apply. And it doesn’t help that Mrs. Bradshaw can’t stand our family. I mean, seriously, Dad, what would that be like?”
Erik glumly shook his head. “Those are valid points.”
“Malcolm!” exclaimed his mother, coming through the door with a plate of sausages in her hands. “You’re here for breakfast. How nice. I thought you’d probably eat at the Bradshaws’ house.”
“When all these great cooks are over here?” he said in a jovial tone.
She set the dish down. “Well, there’s enough food here to feed an army. Are you going to church with us this morning? That’s why we’re getting such an early start. The whole family has promised to go to first service with us in honor of my birthday. Isn’t that sweet? How about you?”
He nodded, munching on a crispy strip of bacon. “Sure, I’d like to go too.”
His mom stepped closer with a conspiratorial glint in her eye. “How did it go over at Olivia’s house?”
He shrugged and exchanged glances with Dad. “Oh, it was pretty quiet. And the bed was super comfy.” To his relief, two of his brothers entered the room, arguing about politics like they often did at family gatherings.
“How about if we ban political debates,” Erik told his sons, “in honor of Mom’s birthday weekend.”
They reluctantly toned it down, and Malcolm carried his plate into the kitchen to express gratitude to the creators of the breakfast feast. Like always, the chatter was fast and witty and familiar, and before long, they were all laughing together.
When it was time to leave for church, Malcolm told his dad he wanted to take his own car and get gas.
As he went out, he glanced over at the Bradshaws’ house and considered asking Olivia to join him, but for some reason he just couldn’t ring that doorbell.
He thought about texting her but convinced himself she might be sleeping in and didn’t want to bother her. Maybe he’d see her at church.
The McEntire family filled almost two full rows in the sanctuary.
As they all sat together, singing familiar songs and listening to a sermon about Advent, Malcolm thought about Olivia.
If, and it was a huge if, they ever decided to get married, the ceremony would most likely take place right here, with his family and their friends filling much of the church on the groom’s side.
He wondered who would be on the bride’s side.
The Bradshaws had never seemed to have many friends.
Not like his family anyway. And why was he even thinking about it?
Thoughts of the ice-cold Mrs. Bradshaw filled him with apprehension.
What if Olivia did turn out to be like that?
After all, they say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
But then he looked at his siblings and realized how all of them were completely different from each other . . . and for a moment he felt hopeful.
When the service ended and he was leaving, he noticed old Doc Wheeler in the back and decided to exchange a greeting.
“Do you remember me?” he asked.
“Of course, I do. Malcolm McEntire.” Dr. Wheeler shook his hand. “I hear you got your degree in veterinary medicine a year or so ago.”
“It’s actually been almost six years.” Malcolm explained about the vet clinic he worked at.
“Do you like that? Being a vet in the city?”
“Well, the experience is good. But we’re an emergency clinic, open 24/7, so my hours are pretty random.”
Dr. Wheeler nodded. “I get a few late-night calls too—emergencies. It used to be easier back when I was younger. Marsha keeps telling me it’s time to think about retiring.” His eyes grew thoughtful. “Or hire a younger vet to help out.”
Malcolm stood straighter, smiling with confidence. “Well, if you ever get serious about that, I hope you’ll keep me in mind.”
“Really?” Dr. Wheeler gave him a good hard look. “You know I treat livestock as well as family pets.”
“I know.” Malcolm nodded eagerly. “I’ve missed that since interning.”
Dr. Wheeler rubbed his chin. “Are you doing anything now? Want to meet for a cup of coffee and kick this around some more? Marsha stays on to help with Sunday school in second service so I’m at loose ends. Well, unless I get a call.”
Malcolm agreed to meet him at a nearby coffee shop, and as soon as they sat down with their drinks, they were discussing the latest advances in veterinary medicine, the way Dr. Wheeler’s practice had grown in the past several years, and even the possibility of a job.
When they wrapped it up, it was nearly noon, and Dr. Wheeler explained it was time to pick up his wife.
They exchanged phone numbers and shook hands.
“Do you plan on being around for the holidays?” Dr. Wheeler asked as they were heading outside.
“Yeah. I’m taking off a week at Christmas. Our vets take turns on holidays and vacation time, but it wasn’t really my turn yet, so I’ll be putting in a lot of overtime between now and then to work out a switch.”
“Okay, let’s talk again when you’re back in town.” Dr. Wheeler patted him on the back. “Tell your folks hello for me.”
As Malcolm got gas, he replayed their conversation.
He hadn’t been promised anything, but he still felt pretty hopeful.
He realized it could involve more work and more hours than his current job, but in the long run, it would be worth it.
In time the old vet would retire, and he’d need someone to take over the clinic. It would be a dream come true.
He was just leaving the gas station when his phone pinged with a text. Olivia. She was worried he’d left for Salem without her. At the stoplight, he reassured her he was still in town and would soon be at her place, suggesting she be ready to go.
He didn’t ask her to be waiting on the front porch but knew he didn’t want to go up to that door and go back inside that house. To his relief, she was outside waiting when he arrived.
“I really thought you’d left without me,” she said as she got in the car.
He explained about slipping out early to spend more time with his family. “Didn’t you get my note?”
“Yeah, but that was hours ago. And your car was gone.”
“I wouldn’t have stranded you like that,” he said in a slightly defensive tone. “Sorry to worry you.”
“It’s okay. No big deal. Gave me more time with my parents.”
“Did you go to church?” he asked. “I didn’t see you at first service.”
“Dad went to second service, but Mom was set on decorating for Christmas. She always decorates on the same day—and this was the day. Like her countdown to Christmas. I decided to stick around.”
“Uh-huh.” He wanted to sound interested but really didn’t care to hear about it. “So, you helped her decorate?”
“Yeah . . . I guess . . . sort of . . .” Olivia’s tone faltered, and she turned to look out the side window.
She seemed disconnected, which was fine with him.
He wasn’t ready to talk about anything that mattered, and he’d never liked chitchat.
Part of him wanted to tell her about his serendipitous meeting with Dr. Wheeler, but another part of him felt cautious.
Because, really, he didn’t know where this relationship was going, and suddenly the two-hour drive felt like it would be very long—long and quiet.