Forever Mine: Callaghan Brothers, Book 9(54)

Neither would admit it, but they were also each other’s biggest, fiercest supporter as well.

Jack didn’t bother thanking Kane for spending the afternoon with him, even though he had enjoyed the quiet company. Kane already knew, and the words were unnecessary.

Kane and Rebecca took their leave, and Jake came farther into the room. Riley held her daddy’s hand, her gaze fixed somewhere around her feet. A curtain of long, wavy black hair concealed her pixie-like features and bright violet eyes.

“Hey Dad,” Jake greeted.

“Jake. Who have you got there with you? A muppet?”

“It’s me, Grandpa,” Riley mumbled.

“Me,” Jack echoed thoughtfully. “Hmmm...”

She lifted her gaze, revealing her face. “Me.”

“Ah, Riley. There you are, lass.”

Jack swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. He’d become adept at moving carefully to minimize the pulling on the staples holding his chest together. It was imperative that the child see that he was doing just fine.

Her eyes went wide. She studied his face, searching. “You don’t look sick.”

“Jake. Leave us for a while, will you?”

Jake nodded. “I’ll be in the living room with Mick and the others.”

Riley continued to stand just inside the door. She bit her lip and looked back at her father, as if afraid to be alone with him. It damn near broke his heart.

“Come over here, lass,” Jack prompted, patting the recliner.

Riley made her way over to him, continuing to chew her lower lip in a classic feminine tell of uncertainty.

“Go on then. Sit.”

She settled herself in the comfortable chair, and he handed her the remote control. She looked up at him with wide eyes. “Try it.”

Jack watched in amusement as Riley tried the different buttons, unable to completely hide her delight at the warmth and vibrating massage. When she looked back at Jack, though, her smile faded and she grew serious again.

“You scared me, Grandpa.”

Leave it to his granddaughter to cut right to the heart of it.

“Aye,” he admitted. “But not on purpose.”

“I know. Uncle Michael explained it to me.”

“So you understand that nothing you did that day is to blame for what happened.”

Riley looked down at her hands. When she spoke, she did so in a whisper. “I made you walk down to the pumpkin patch. Walking is exercise. Exercise makes your heart work harder. And you had a heart attack because your heart couldn’t handle the extra work.”

Jack was momentarily stunned by the seven year old’s logic.

“Aye, and thank God it happened when it did.”

Riley lifted her head and stared at him.

“Do you think it was an accident that you were there; my clever, brave, lass to fetch me the help I needed? Or that your uncles were all right there, able to take care of me and get me to the hospital so quickly?” Jack shook his head. “No, lass. That was no accident. Everything happens for a reason. And the truth is, I am here now because you were with me then.”

Her lips fell open and her eyes, now shimmering with moisture, grew wide. He could practically see the wheels turning. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” he grunted. “So how about giving your old Grandpa a hug?”

She leaned forward, then snapped back and shook her head violently. “Mom and Dad said I’m not supposed to hug you yet.”

“See that? Taking care of me again. All right then. How about a high-five?”

She rolled her eyes. “Nobody high-fives anymore, Grandpa. They fist-bump.”

“Fist-bump, it is. Now, are you going to watch the rest of the game with me?”

“Can I sit in this chair and hold your hand?”

“Aye.”

“Then yes.”





Chapter Twenty-One


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Jack paused and looked out over the acres and acres of farmland, a natural quilt of browns, tans, and greens. The trees were already beginning to change into their autumnal palette; they, along with the depression-era, stacked stone walls formed the sashing and the seams.

Down below and to the right lay the fifty-odd acres open to the public. From this position, Jack could see yet another school bus winding its way up the mountain, filled with excited school children. They would spend the day playing in the corn mazes and on the hay bale obstacle courses, enjoying the fun and educational hayride tours, and finishing their time here by picking their own apples and pumpkins to take home.

For years after her grandparents died, Maggie continued the family tradition of opening her farm to the locals, as well as providing home-grown herbal and homeopathic remedies to those in need. Now that the local restaurant, Celtic Goddess, had contracted with Maggie for exclusive rights to grow the organic produce for their offerings, she had the resources to hire a seasonal staff to keep the family fun going. Visiting Maggie’s farm had become a popular community staple each fall, and each year grew more so.

He could feel Maggie’s eyes on him. He resisted the childish urge to venture farther, out of her line of sight. While she respected his privacy, she watched over him like a mother hen. What she did, she did out of love and concern, but to a man who had been living without a woman’s direct influence for nearly a quarter of a century, her constant attention took some getting used to.