Protecting What's Mine(94)

“Put that beer down, right now!” Cher Gloria, wearing her chubby-cheeked baby, hurried toward them.

“Why?” Linc asked. “Is it just for the kids?”

She gave him a playful poke. “No. We have champagne waiting for you two.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek and then did the same to Mack.

Gloria Moretta was happy. Down-to-the-bone, swimming-in-the-blood happy. And Mack suddenly, viscerally, wanted to experience that feeling.

“What are we celebrating?” Mack asked.

“You, silly. You saved Leroy Mahoney in front of his sweet grandson performing open heart surgery on the side of a road. Perfect costume, by the way,” Gloria said with a grin. She signaled for Aldo at the grill.

“Oh, I… Well, Linc got me the costume.” Mack felt her cheeks flame.

“Come on,” Gloria grabbed Mack’s hand and towed her toward the front porch of the Craftsman-style house.

There was yet another table and not one, not two, but four bottles of champagne chilling in skull-shaped ice buckets amidst a sea of plastic flutes.

Aldo climbed the steps behind them. He gave Linc a punch on the arm and Mack a trademark hug before tickling his baby under the chin. Then, heedless of the audience, he cupped Gloria’s chin in his big hands and kissed her gently.

Linc playfully covered Mack’s eyes. “If they start taking their clothes off, we’re leaving,” he said.

Kiss complete, sweet moment shared, Aldo turned to face the yard. “Hey, Fun Police,” he called to Ellen. “Give us a whistle, would you?”

Obligingly, Ellen blew her whistle shrilly, and the crowd quieted down.

“Happy Halloween, everyone,” Aldo said, slipping his arm around Gloria.

“Happy Halloween!” everyone shouted back.

“We wanted to take a minute to thank someone very special for her good deeds,” Aldo said.

“Oh my God,” Mack hissed. Linc grinned at her. “You knew?”

“You wouldn’t have come if I told you.”

Gloria’s mother bustled onto the porch and popped open the first bottle of champagne.

“Most of you know Dr. Mackenzie O’Neil,” he said, waving an arm in her direction.

The cheer was rousing and completely embarrassing. She wanted to hide under Linc’s cape, but he held her firmly in place.

“You deserve this, Dreamy. Soak it up,” he whispered.

“You know that Dr. Mack here saved my life. None of this would be here if it weren’t for her,” he said.

“Oh, no,” Mack whispered. Her throat was tightening, eyes watering.

“Try not to blink,” Linc suggested.

She opened her eyes scary wide and stared blankly at the porch light.

“I wouldn’t be here grilling hot dogs with my beautiful wife and two perfect little girls if it weren’t for her. And we had a few other people who wanted to say thank you, too.”

Mrs. Moretta let out a wail and blew her nose in a pumpkin napkin. “Sorry. You can continue,” she howled.

Don’t blink. Don’t blink. Don’t blink.

Another bottle of champagne was popped and poured.

“Oh, crap,” Mack rasped as Dalton and Mr. and Mrs. McDowell—all dressed as the Incredibles—climbed the steps of the porch. Dalton ran over and handed her a drawing of a gigantic tick biting a stick figure boy and then a stick figure with boobs and a huge scar on her face kicking the tick. Mack laughed.

“Thank you for everything,” Mrs. McDowell whispered wrapping her in a hug.

Mack didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if she could say anything. So she just nodded and let herself be hugged.

“You did good, doc,” Mr. McDowell said, his voice tight with emotion. “Real good.”

“Thanks,” she managed. She sounded like she’d just swallowed a dozen razor blades. Her eyes burned, and she went back into non-blinking mode.

The McDowells picked up their champagne and Dalton’s juice box and stepped aside.

And then there were two more people on the porch. Mack briefly wondered what the weight capacity was, then decided it didn’t matter when she realized that Tyrone Mahoney was dressed in a little flight suit and carrying a mini medical bag. His handmade nametag said Dr. Mack. The boy had dressed up as her for Halloween.

“Oh, shit,” she whispered. She blinked, and a hot tear spilled out of the corner of her eye.

Linc squeezed her shoulder and cleared his own throat. “Just hang in there.”

Tyrone and his mom hugged her hard.

“Pop-Pop is still in the hospital, but he says to tell you thanks,” Tyrone told her with a big, beaming grin. “And I’m going to be a doctor just like you someday.”

Words failed her. Which was fine because Tyrone’s mom, a lovely young woman still in a business suit that Mack felt was probably not a costume but a just-made-it-home-in-time-from-work-for-trick-or-treat, burst into tears while hugging her.

“Thank you,” she whispered through tears.

“To Dr. Mack,” Aldo said, raising his champagne.

“To Dr. Mack,” the crowd in the yard echoed.

The ladder truck that Mack hadn’t heard pull up celebrated, too, with lights and its horn.

She had never been more uncomfortable in her entire life.