Soaring (Magdalene #2)(144)
Author: Kristen Ashley

“All right, if you don’t give a shit about this, I do,” Lawr said angrily. “What’s up their asses?”

“I didn’t take their calls when I first moved here because I was trying to sort my head out about how I’d been behaving, and I needed to focus on setting up a home, a life, and winning back my kids,” I told him. “This lasted awhile but I did email them. In fact, I’ve been emailing them regularly for months. It isn’t like I cut ties with them completely.”

“That’s it?” he asked.

“It could be even more trivial, Lawrie. You know them,” I answered. “They don’t need much.”

Lawr looked down at the papers.

I moved to him and touched his arm.

He looked back to me.

“I really don’t care,” I told him honestly.

“It’s fucking Thanksgiving, MeeMee, and they knew because you didn’t have them last year that you have the kids. Even if they didn’t, that’s likely something you shared in your emails.” He reached out a hand and pushed at the paper. “And they give you this?”

“It’s them,” I reminded him.

“It isn’t right,” he reminded me.

“No. It isn’t. But it’s them. And if you, or I, rise to the bait, we’re doing what they want. Instead, if we let this go, see what Addison finds, which as you say will not be in their favor, we’re being us. We’re being who we are. We are not being what they want to make us be.”

Lawr’s jaw clenched.

“They’ll get over it,” I told him. “It’s too ill-bred to hold a grudge.”

He studied me a minute before he burst out laughing. And he did this pulling me into his arms.

I wrapped mine around him too.

We held on and I gave it time before I asked, “Do they know you’re divorcing Mariel?”

“Come Christmas Day, I expect my letter from Addison to arrive.”

That meant he told them and they were frosting him out.

I leaned my head back and caught his eyes.

“They’re home, alone, no kids, no grandkids, stewing.” I gave him a squeeze. “Where are we?”

“Together, making pies,” he replied quietly.

I grinned.

“Maine made you smart,” he remarked.

I glared. “I’ve always been smart.”

“Yes. Sorry. You’re right. Sitting around watching you and Robin drink vodka and connive to slash Conrad’s tires. Brilliant. What was I thinking?” he teased.

I pulled away, mumbling, “A phase.”

“Yeah,” he replied.

It was time to move on.

“You have another crust to roll out and I have to finish the apples, Lawrie.”

“Right, boss,” he said briskly but this was also jokingly.

He went to his crust.

I went to the apples.

The apple pie was in with the pumpkin, and Lawr was working on the crust for the pecan pie when my phone chimed.

I looked to it, saw the text from Pippa and snatched it up.

Sorry, Mom, super sorry. We’re still at Dad’s. But we’ll get there as soon as we can. Promise!

I gritted my teeth but replied, Okay, kiddo. Do me a favor and text when you’re on your way so Uncle Lawrie and I won’t worry.

And I knew I’d done the right thing when she quickly replied, You’re the greatest! And we will!

My baby girl thought I was the greatest.

I could ride on that for eternity.

So it’d easily take me through another hour.

Unfortunately, it didn’t.

But it wasn’t Conrad or my parents who would turn Thanksgiving into a disaster.

* * * * *

My phone chimed.

I was basting the turkey, but I turned my head to Lawrie who was standing at the opposite counter, his eyes cast down to my phone.

“Auden,” he said, looking to me. “They’re on their way.”

I sighed in relief and kept basting.

The turkey was looking fabulous. The pies were done. The potatoes were peeled. The ingredients for the rolls were churning in the breadmaker, the dough would be done in fifteen minutes so I could form the rolls and they had time to rise. My homemade cranberry sauce was already done. The sweet potato casserole was assembled and ready to go into the oven. The green bean casserole would take no time to do so it could join it. The table was laid.

It was twenty past noon. As was my life, with Lawrie’s help, and even from afar without any help from my parents, I was in a good place.

And I’d hit a certain Zen because it occurred to me that Mickey had good kids, so did I, and even though Ash was shy, I figured Pippa would do what she could to pull her out of her shell, and both of my kids would love Cillian.

It was all going to be okay.

I couldn’t imagine in my wildest dreams how it would go wrong.

But it did.

Spectacularly.

* * * * *

The disaster didn’t start at twelve thirty-five when I heard the garage door go up, announcing my kids were there, and Mickey had not yet shown.

In fact, it started swimmingly when my kids came in, saw their Uncle Lawrie and pounced on him with sheer glee.

It took a turn for the worse when, with a mother’s keen eyes, I saw something festering under that glee that was troubling.

It didn’t help matters that Pippa pretended it wasn’t there, and after turning from Lawrie and giving me her hug and kiss and happy Thanksgiving, she just said, “Gonna go dump my purse and jacket in my room and I’m all yours, Mom.”

Auden, however, didn’t pretend and when he hugged me he said in my ear, “We’ll talk after Mickey leaves. Is that okay?”

It would have to be.

I nodded and he went off to get rid of his own jacket.

The kids were just in their rooms when the doorbell rang.

I was a bit jittery but I was okay. The house smelled great. Dinner was under control. The table looked beautiful laid with my fabulous stoneware, a low harvest-colored floral arrangement with candles in the middle that spread side to side at least three feet. The kids were safe from whatever was happening with their dad and they were with me. My brother was there, and even in the unlikely event things started to go awry, he’d guide them back and he’d have help. Mickey would make sure to do that too.

I would too.

Kids were resilient. Kids were better with change than grownups.

And all had been going so well, moving straight toward happy, that I knew in my heart it was all going to be great.

So I moved to the door quickly, opened it and smiled huge at the Donovan family.