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One Day in Apple Grove(89)

By:C. H. Admirand






Chapter 17




Cait and Jack were up early the next day, energized from a good night’s sleep. Cait was patting Jamie on the head and telling him to be a good boy when Jack’s mom came downstairs.

“Good morning, early birds.” Jack’s mother smile reminded Cait of an extremely satisfied feline.

“Morning, Mom.”

“Morning, Mrs. Gannon.”

“Please, call me Cora,” she told Cait. “Mrs. Gannon was my mother-in-law.”

Cait looked at Jack first, and when he shrugged, she agreed. “I have a long day of repairs ahead of me,” she told Jack’s mother. “I’d better get started.”

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, dear,” Cora called after. “Be sure you get some.”

Caitlin didn’t laugh until she got outside; she didn’t want Cora to think she was laughing at her. She was laughing because it felt good to have Jack’s mom worrying about her.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Jack called out. “Wait up!”

She paused beside her truck and waited for him. “Hey, handsome.” And wasn’t he just, standing there clean-shaven, eyes bright, and lips curved upward in a smile that hinted he had a secret that he might be willing to share?

“If I don’t have the chance to tell you before tonight, I’m so damned grateful to have you in my life, Caitlin Mulcahy.”

Unease skittered up her spine. “Grateful?”

He pulled her into his arms and she felt his heart pounding, as if he had been running. Looking up into his eyes, she waited a moment before asking, “Does this have anything to do with bugging you until you spilled your guts about what happened in Iraq?”

He didn’t say anything but slid his hands up to cup the sides of her face. “Part of it does, but the rest of it has to do with loving you, Cait.” His voice deepened as he added, “And I do.”

Cait’s heart fluttered before matching Jack’s beat for beat. Sliding her hands over his, she lifted to her toes and pressed her mouth against his—soft, warm, giving. All of the above fit what she wanted to share with Jack…and what she received in return when he kissed her back.

“I’m crazy in love you with, Doc Gannon.”

He was smiling as he bent to kiss her again. “Better ’n just crazy, Mulcahy.”

She was laughing as she got in her truck and rolled down the window. “Say bye to your dad for me.”

“Will do,” he promised with a wave. She was about to back up when she thought of something. Rolling down her window, she called out, “Hey, Jack?”

“What?”

“Just how long are your parents staying?”

“Why?”

Her smile was just this side of wicked when she said, “We haven’t tried out the kitchen table yet.”

His laughter had her smiling on the inside all the way to town. Turning right onto Main Street, she parked behind Mulcahys surprised but pleased to see her father sorting through tools and supplies in their shop. “Hey, Pop! What brings you here?”

He looked down at her and waited a heartbeat before answering, “You.”

“Me? What did I do?”

He snorted. “I have it on good authority that you weren’t listening and Jack dislocated his shoulder trying to break down your bedroom door.”

Cait sighed. “There was a lot more to it than that, Pop.”

“Well, what happened?”

Cait drew in another steadying breath. “Jack and I talked about Iraq, Pop.” She turned back to face him. “He’s so much braver than I thought…and that’s a lot.”

Her dad nodded. “So, you and Jack are good?”

“Yeah,” she said. “We are, but I still think there must be some way for me to help him see what he means to this town and to those men he helped to save.”

Her father agreed. “I think I might know of a way. Let me talk to Jack’s dad and see if we can track down a few of those marines.”

“To have them write a letter to Jack?”

Her father’s face was solemn when his gaze met hers. “I’m thinking of something a little more proactive.”

“Such as?” Cait prompted.

“Visiting Apple Grove.”

Cait nodded. “Since he’s opened up about what happened, he might be ready for a visit in a few months.”

Her dad smiled. “I was thinking about a few weeks from now…say June fifteenth?”

“Founder’s Day?” she asked. “Just what are you up to?”

“I’ll have to ask Miss Trudi to leave about a half hour to forty-five minutes after her annual speech.”

“Pop—”