“I made some fresh strawberry cream pie,” she responded, ignoring his question. “Even with the Goddess buying most everything I still have more than I know what to do with. I’ll get you a slice.”
The Celtic Goddess was a high-end restaurant run by their sister-in-law, renowned chef Lexi Kattapoulos Callaghan. Several years earlier they had contracted with Maggie’s farm to produce the bulk of organic produce used in their one-of-a-kind menu offerings. Thus far the acquisition had been a highly successful and lucrative arrangement for all involved.
“Maggie.”
“And I whipped up some fresh cream, too,” she added, pretending she hadn’t heard him. “Nothing beats fresh-whipped.”
“Maggie.”
“Or I’ve got some blueberry crumble still warm. We got a huge crop of the early ones this year...”
“Maggie.” Every one of them – his six older brothers and their wives - knew that Maggie baked like a fiend when she was nervous or excited. He glanced over at the huge tubs of freshly made cookies and the tray of homemade cinnamon rolls she’d just extracted from the oven. Maggie wasn’t just anxious. She was in full-on panic mode.
“You sound just like Michael when you say it like that,” she told him. If he didn’t know her better he would swear she was pouting.
“Why haven’t you told him?” His older brother Michael worshipped the ground his wife walked on, and loved their son Ryan as much as any father could. Kieran couldn’t imagine him being anything less than ecstatic over the news.
She shrugged. A few more tendrils of dark cherry-cola colored hair escaped the clip with which she’d attempted to contain them, cascading around her face, coming to rest on the shoulder straps of the worn and faded full frontal apron that had once been her great-grandmother’s. He’d been so absorbed in his own worries he hadn’t paid her appearance much attention. Now that he looked closer, he could see that her skin was a bit paler than usual, and there were dark shadows beneath her eyes.
“He’s going to figure something’s up, Mags,” Kieran said, looking pointedly around at all the treats.
“Yes,” she agreed, drawing the word out slowly as she fixed him with big green eyes. “About that...you need to take all this back to the Pub with you. Or better yet, take it over to Lacie’s. Her brother Brian loves this stuff, and heaven knows he could use the extra calories more than I can.”
Kieran’s brows knit together, at least as much as they could on his smooth, boyish face. At twenty-eight, he could have passed for much younger. “You want me to lie to my brother?”
“No, of course not,” she said irritably. “I’m just asking you to not say anything just yet.” He didn’t miss the flash of hurt in her eyes, and felt a pang of remorse for suggesting such a thing.
She paused, and he could practically see the wheels turning. “Think of it like a ‘need to know’ type thing, and Michael just doesn’t need to know yet.”
Kieran’s frown increased, prompting Maggie to add, “It’s just, well, you know how he worries over the slightest things...”
It was true. Michael did worry. Like all of the Callaghan men, he was especially protective of his wife – the one who had captured not only his heart but also his mind and soul. And, given Maggie’s nearly pathological fear of traditional medicine, Michael’s concerns were often valid ones. In her stubborn avoidance of all such things, she often did not seek treatment of what she considered minor injuries, much to the chagrin of her husband and sometimes to the detriment of her health.
They understood why she felt the way she did. Poor medical care had cost Maggie not only her parents but also resulted in her spending a good part of her childhood in the hospital. It was her grandmother, skilled with homeopathic remedies, who had taken her in and given her a normal childhood. Her husband, a doctor himself, was slowly working on building her trust.
“Does he have anything he should be worried about, Mags?” he asked. Michael was his brother by blood, but Maggie was a cherished sister as well. And Kieran had a very strong sense of family. Her health and well-being was every bit as important to him as his brothers’.
She bit her lip, her hesitation just a little too pronounced to stem the unease he felt building in his gut. He had been feeling it all day. Up till that point he’d assumed it had something to do with the funk he’d been in lately, but maybe it was more than that. His brothers all shared a sixth sense, instinctively knowing when one of them was in trouble. Their wives were such a part of them, fitting so seamlessly into their family, that it made sense such feelings would eventually extend to them as well.
“Everything is fine. I’m sure of it,” she said. But she didn’t actually believe that, and Maggie was quite possibly one of the worst liars on the planet. If he hadn’t already figured that out, the unshed tears building in her eyes and her trembling bottom lip would have clued him in.