Jack sat down on his rolling stool and used his feet to push off so he was back in front of his laptop. He finished entering data and turned back around. “Any more weddings on the horizon?”
Joe sighed. “I had high hopes for one young man Cait had been dating, but she’s been so busy picking up the slack, what with Meg’s morning sickness, that she hasn’t had the time or energy to date. Grace hasn’t brought anyone around to meet me, but I know she’s seeing someone from out of town.”
Jack noticed Joe’s worry lines when he was talking about his daughters and wanted to do something to erase them. As a physician, he would always treat his patients to the best of his ability, but here in Apple Grove, there was much more to be considered. With Joe Mulcahy, it was the link to his childhood friend and the need to help her father. “If I learned anything during my years in the navy, I learned that life and insurgents come at you with both barrels—” He buried the ever-present turmoil just bubbling below the surface to a controllable level and finished what he’d wanted to say. “Life is too short.”
He thought of the marine that bled out while he had worked in earnest to stitch the young man back together under fire. If he didn’t close the lid to the box where he kept those memories, he’d be up all night, positive he could hear the whistling sound of the explosive before it hit, feel the white-hot agonizing pain of having his leg shatter while bits of shrapnel imbedded into his flesh.
“Doc, are you all right?”
Jack snapped back to attention in time to see the look of concern on the older man’s face. “Yeah…um…yes. Yes, I’m fine.”
“War is hell,” Joe stated flatly, sensing the direction of Jack’s thoughts.
Jack couldn’t agree more.
Chapter 2
Caitlin Mulcahy was running late. She had promised her favorite customer, Mr. Weatherbee, that she’d get an early start, but she’d spent hours after work out in the shed by the Mulcahys’ barn—her woodworking shop—where she dreamed big and built furniture for family and friends. She’d finally closed the door to her shed on the half-finished rocking chair and nearly finished set of shelves just past midnight. All the shelves needed were a light sanding and a coat of varnish to finish them. But the rocking chair needed the rockers and a good sanding before it’d be ready for a clear coat.
She hoped to surprise her sister Meg and the new niece or nephew that would add to her older sister’s growing family with the shelves and the rocking chair. Being behind schedule would only add to her day and the ever-growing list of people to see and things to fix. It was hard trying to squeeze in the work of another person.
She missed Meg working in their family handyman business—and missed her sister taking care of the jobs she used to handle. “I really hate plumbing.” She sighed and turned around, heading back to the shop to pick up the pipe dope, adhesive to seal the ends of the pipe, and the length of PVC pipe she’d forgotten.
It was because of her sister that they were behind on jobs and one man—make that woman—short. Not that she could really blame Meg for getting pregnant…again. On top of chasing around her two-year-old twins, Danny and Joey, she couldn’t be expected to jump right in and work the same hours she had been, even part-time.
Meg marrying Dan, the town’s new phys ed teacher, had been the best thing that had ever happened to her. The ladies in town still talked about the day he stalked into Honey’s Hair Salon and declared his love for Meg in front of everyone. Then again, they were also still talking about the way the sheriff stormed in and hauled salon owner Honey B. over his shoulder. Both couples had been happily married for three years…boy, how time flew by.
Love must change people, she mused. She’d never seen her sister or Honey B. so happy. Even her dad’s fledgling romance with the widowed Mary Murphy had him whistling some days. “Guess with the right person, it will be worth it.”
Too bad she hadn’t found that right person herself, even though she’d dated the few eligible men in town who had interested her. She’d never admit it to Gracie, but her younger sister was right: there was a downside to living in a small town—there were only so many eligible bachelors.
Cait set those thoughts aside; it wouldn’t do her any good to dwell on what-ifs. Concentrating on the list of parts in her hand, she gathered what she’d need for the day from the family’s shop on Main Street. Toolbox in hand, she walked back outside and was distracted by the sunny glare off her grandfather’s legacy—his 1950 Ford F1 pickup. The symbol of the Mulcahys’ dependability, generations of Apple Grove residents sighed with relief when they saw that the Mulcahys were on their way to solve whatever problems needed fixing.