“And we don’t know what happened to him over there.” Nolie was the quiet one in the noisy Flanagan gatherings, but when she spoke, she invariably had something helpful to say. “There could be other things complicating the situation. When it comes to a previously able-bodied person accepting a disability, the emotional is always as important as the physical.”
“If you—” she began, but the clinking of a glass distracted her. She glanced to the other end of the table, where her cousin Brendan tapped a spoon against his coffee cup.
“Attention, please.” Brendan had shed the clerical garb he’d worn this morning, and his eyes were bright with suppressed excitement. “Claire and I have an announcement to make.” He glanced toward his wife, sitting beside him, and Claire’s face glowed with love.
In the sudden silence, Mary Kate could hear the quick intake of breath from her mother. Was it the thing they’d all hoped and prayed for?
Brendan reached over to clasp his wife’s hand. “We’re expecting a baby in November.”
The table erupted in joyful celebration, and Mary Kate shoved her worries about Luke to the back of her mind. Her throat went tight with tears as she hurried around the table to hug both of them. Everyone knew they’d been trying to get pregnant for well over a year without success, but now it was finally happening.
She hugged and kissed them, heart full, surprised to find that her joy was tinged with a little sorrow. Self-pity? She hoped not. Still, even though she and Kenny hadn’t intended to have more children, she couldn’t stem the wave of regret for what would never be.
She glanced at her watch. “Goodness, look at the time.” She dashed away a single tear, hoping it would be interpreted as joy for Brendan and Claire. “I’d better check on the kids.”
Before she could betray any other emotion, she went quickly through the kitchen. She didn’t want anyone to feel they had to mute their celebration because of her loss. Pushing open the back door, she glanced around the fenced-in yard, counting heads.
Shawna played ring-around-the-rosy with the smaller ones: Gabe and Nolie’s little Siobhan, Seth and Julie’s Davy, Ryan and Laura’s Amanda. Michael—
“Shawnie, where’s Michael?”
Shawna looked up from the tangle of little bodies on the ground. “I don’t know, Mom. He was here a minute ago.”
Her heart seemed to skip a beat. “Michael? Michael!” From the bottom of the steps, the whole yard was in view. No Michael.
The door behind her opened and her mother came out, carrying Mary Kate’s bag. “Your cell phone is ringing.”
She grabbed the bag, yanking the phone out. Michael—
“Mary Kate?” Luke’s deep voice grated in her ear. “Your boy is over here. You want to come and get him?”
Chapter Four
Mary Kate realized she was shaking inside as she started the car, and she took a deep breath, trying to still the rush of panic. Michael was all right. Luke would keep him safe until she got there. It was okay.
No, it wasn’t. If Kenny were here, he’d have found something to make her laugh in this situation, and his steady, even calm would convince her this wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened.
But Kenny wasn’t here, and Michael had done the unthinkable, leaving his grandparents’ yard without a word to anyone. What on earth had made him do that?
Lord, thank You for keeping him safe. Maybe I’m overreacting—I don’t know. I just know that I’m scared and I need guidance. Please, show me the right way to respond to this situation, with both Michael and Luke.
The short drive around the block to Luke’s house wasn’t long enough to settle her entirely, but then, she probably wouldn’t calm down until she had her son in her arms again. She parked in the driveway and ran to the front door, tapping and then hurrying inside.
“Michael Donnelly.” She grabbed him, pulling him against her with an urgent need to know he was in one piece. “Are you okay?”
“Sure, Mommy.” He squirmed free. “I’m sorry. I guess you’re mad at me, huh?” He gave her the angelic look that said he couldn’t possibly have done anything wrong.
She hardened her heart. “Sorry doesn’t quite cover it, young man. And don’t bother looking at me that way, because you’re still going to be punished.”
“Your mom’s one tough lady, Michael. She doesn’t let me get away with anything, either.” Luke actually sounded as if he found this amusing—probably because it put her in the position of having to apologize for her children. Again.
She looked at him, praying she wasn’t blushing. That was the trouble with fair skin and freckles—every emotion showed. “I’m very sorry Michael bothered you. That shouldn’t have happened.”
And it won’t, ever again, she vowed.
A rare smile crossed Luke’s face, chasing away the lines of pain and anger. “He’s not a bother. But I knew you’d be worried.”
“That’s nice of you to say.”
And yet she was sure he’d been fit to be tied when he’d called her. Apparently Michael had been exercising his charm during the time it had taken her to drive over.
“I’m sorry if I was a pest,” Michael told him. “I didn’t mean to be. I just wanted to talk to you.”
Why? She wanted to ask the question out loud, but not here, not in front of Luke. She’d have to wait until they were alone for that.
“You weren’t a pest,” Luke said. He reached out to ruffle the red curls. “But you should never come here without your mom’s permission. You know that, don’t you?”
“Can I come if she gives permission?” he said promptly.
“Michael.” Her mother could always put a wealth of meaning into just saying one of her kids’ names. Mary Kate could only hope she’d mastered the trick.
Luke shot her a glance, and then he nodded gravely. “If your mother gives you permission, you can come and see me again. But never go anywhere without permission from the person who’s in charge. A soldier who did that would be going AWOL.”
Michael nodded, looking impressed. “I promise.”
“Good.” Luke turned the chair, moving toward the small cherry writing desk in the corner. He opened the top drawer and took something out. “I have something for you.”
“You don’t have to—” she began, but Luke silenced her with the slight shake of his head.
“This is between Michael and me,” he said. He held out a small box. “Here.”
Michael fumbled with it for a moment and then managed to pop the lid up. “Wow,” he said reverently.
She moved so that she could see the contents of the box, and shock zigzagged through her. She took the box from Michael’s hands.
“He can’t accept this. You can’t give these away.” She thrust the box toward Luke, but he clutched the arms of the chair, refusing to take it.
“They’re mine. I can do what I want with them.” There was a dark undertone to the words, and she wasn’t sure what emotion it expressed. Bitterness? Grief?
She looked down. Against a background of black velvet lay three things. Two she recognized immediately—the Purple Heart and the Bronze Star. It took a moment to identify the third as the Iraq Campaign Medal, with