Sherryl Woods - The Christmas Bouquet

Her mom gave her an amused look. “Your aunt Bree, the playwright, will be thrilled you’ve inherited her sense of drama.”

“Don’t even mention her to me. It’s that bouquet she made for Jenny’s wedding that I blame for all of this,” she said as she left the kitchen and headed to her room.

Far too quickly she heard a tap on her door and her mother announced that her grandparents and Nell were in Trace’s office. Abby walked downstairs with Caitlyn.

“Are you sure you don’t want me with you for moral support?” she asked.

Caitlyn shook her head. “Too bad I can’t drink. I could use a stiff shot of something about now.”

“It’s going to be okay,” Abby reassured her. “Just remember that they all love you. And once they’re past the shock, they’ll agree with me that this is great news. I’m counting on them to help me convince you that it doesn’t have to derail your life.”

Caitlyn opened the door to Trace’s spacious home office with its tall windows letting in lots of morning sunshine. When they’d all moved in years ago, she and Carrie had spent hours in this room playing as Trace worked. Taking a huge breath, she stepped inside.

“Well, look who’s here,” her grandfather boomed, enveloping her in an exuberant hug. “My favorite granddaughter.” Mick leaned close to whisper, “Don’t tell the others.”

It was a familiar refrain, one repeated with every single grandchild at one point or another. They were all Mick’s favorites to hear him tell it, and they grew up believing it and counting on that exuberant and unconditional love, even as they chafed at his well-meant interference in their lives.

Caitlyn crossed the room to kiss her grandmother, then sat down next to Nell and reached for her hand. That garden-roughened hand had soothed away many hurts over the years. It was a shock to realize how frail it felt in Caitlyn’s grasp.

“You okay?” Nell asked, regarding her with worry. “I know perfectly well we’re not here just so you can say hello.”

“If only that were the reason,” Caitlyn told her with a heartfelt sigh. She looked across the room at her stepfather. Trace had been such a powerful force in her life. He’d been present in ways her biological father never had been, not just physically present, but emotionally supportive, too. She could recall the candy he’d brought to her and Carrie from Ethel’s Emporium, the trips into town for ice cream and pizza as he’d wooed them as determinedly as he’d tried to win back her mother’s affections. Theirs was just one more story that proved true love really could have a second chance.

“What’s up, kiddo?” Trace asked quietly, his gaze steady and expectant. It was evident he knew something was up.

Holding tight to Nell’s hand, she began, “I thought you all should know that I’ve been seeing someone.”

Her grandfather frowned. “You’ll need to define just what that means. I thought you didn’t have time for dating?”

Caitlyn smiled at the claim she’d made so many times over the years. “To be honest, it’s a little more than dating,” she confessed.

Now Trace’s shoulders visibly stiffened. “Meaning?”

“It’s serious,” she told him, looking directly into his eyes. She sucked in a deep breath, then blurted, “We’re going to have a baby.”

The commotion that ensued wasn’t entirely unexpected. Grandpa Mick immediately started blustering about going after the man responsible. Trace seconded him, even as Nell and Grandma Megan were circling the wagons around her, beaming. Her mom, who’d clearly been listening at the door, came into the room and poked Grandpa Mick in the chest.

“Sit down,” she commanded, then went to sit on the edge of Trace’s desk, her gaze all but daring him to make a fuss.

To Caitlyn’s shock, her grandfather fell silent and Trace sat back and closed his eyes, clearly gathering his composure. They looked shaken, but no more so than she’d expected.

“Tell them about Noah,” her mom suggested, then added meaningfully, “He sounds like a wonderful man to me.”

“You knew about this?” Trace asked, regarding her with a hint of hurt in his voice.

“Only since last night,” Abby told him. “I would have said something then, but Caitlyn wanted to tell you all herself. I had to respect her decision.”

“Well, personally, I couldn’t be happier to hear that we’ll have another baby to celebrate,” Nell said, giving her son and Trace a defiant look.

“Of course we’ll be celebrating this gift, Ma,” Mick responded impatiently. His scowl deepened. “But I want to know what this young man intends to do to make things right. Have you set a wedding date?”

Caitlyn shook her head. “We’ve barely had time to absorb the news. We haven’t made any plans yet. There’s a lot to consider.”

“There’s only one thing I can think of,” her grandfather contradicted. “Whether the church is available.”

“Mick, let the girl talk,” Grandma Megan said quietly, then faced Caitlyn. “Sweetheart, have you discussed marriage?”

“It’s on the table,” Caitlyn acknowledged, reluctant to make the admission because of the pressure that was bound to follow for her to say yes.

“Well, of course it is,” Trace said, proving her point. “It’s the right thing to do.”

Her mom frowned at him.

“I’m just saying,” he said defensively.

“Caitlyn’s decision,” Abby reminded him.

“And Noah’s,” Caitlyn added. “I’ve thought of inviting him to join us for dinner tomorrow, but I won’t do it unless you all promise to treat him decently.” She looked directly at her grandfather and then at Trace as she said it. “I want all of you to get to know him, but I don’t want any pressure about wedding dates.”

“They’ll be on their best behavior,” Nell assured her before glancing sharply at both men. “Won’t you?”

Silence fell.

“Won’t you?” Nell repeated.

Trace sighed. “Of course.”

Mick’s scowl settled in. “I reserve the right to say whatever I please in my own home.”

Megan lifted a brow. “Do you want to meet this young man of Caitlyn’s or not? You’ll guarantee politeness or the rest of us will be having dinner at Brady’s without you.”

Caitlyn choked back a laugh at Grandpa Mick’s stunned expression. “Maybe that would be best,” she said innocently.

“Over my dead body!” Grandpa Mick blustered. “Okay, okay, I’ll promise to keep a civil tongue in my head, but if I don’t like what I’m hearing, none of you can hold me to that.”

That wasn’t quite the assurance that Caitlyn would have preferred, but it was more than she’d anticipated. She crossed the room to give him a fierce hug. “Thank you.”

When she looked into his eyes, she saw they were damp with tears.

“You love this man?” he asked, his tone quieter and far more reasonable.

“I do.”

“Then we’ll start from there,” he said. “Everything else can be worked out.”

Caitlyn wished she were as confident of that, but knowing that her family was on her side was a huge relief. It already felt as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

“I think we’ve had enough surprises for one morning,” Nell said. “Sweetheart, why don’t you come back to my cottage with me? You can help me make a big pot of Irish stew for tomorrow’s lunch.”

“I’d love that,” Caitlyn said eagerly.

And it wasn’t just because it meant she could escape from this room before either her grandfather or Trace could go back on their word and start asking questions she was nowhere near ready to answer. It had just as much to do with the soothing effect of being around Nell, and maybe finally learning to cook a favorite Irish meal that would be edible.