The Family Gathering (Sullivan's Crossing #3)(32)

“What kind of progress?” she asked, licking her fork.

“There’s no agenda, Sid. I like you and you like me. Most people would be wrestling like crazy lovers do.”

“And you think that’s what I’m looking for because...?”

He leaned toward her. “You’re an adult woman in her thirties.”

“I told you, I don’t date.”

“Yes, you do. You dragged me to a soup kitchen—it was a lure. To earn you I had to display my charitable side, but I screwed up your plan. I like the place. And this is a date. Not much of one, but a date. Last week after cleanup, while you were going deaf, I had coffee and cake with Sister Mary Jacob. In fact, I’m thinking I might be more successful if I put the moves on her.”

Sid laughed.

“Something has come up,” he said. “My sister has decided it’s time to get married. Sierra and Connie. They’ve been together about a year, lived together almost as long and they’re finally doing it. It’s going to be small. Very small. Family and close friends. No big event but a nice small party. Be my date.”

“Really? You need a date?”

“Sid, you know Sierra. You’re friends. You know Connie and Sully and a couple of the firefighters who will be there. I hear Connie’s mom and brother will come. Be my date.”

“What’s the price of admission?” she asked with a half smile.

“There’s no price,” he said. “I might lose my mind and beg sometimes but you will always be completely safe with me. Always. I won’t even hold your hand without permission.”

“I don’t know whether to be flattered by your restraint or disappointed that I haven’t made you lose your mind yet.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “Mary Jacob was a more accommodating date.”

“What did you two talk about?” she asked.

“Well, the homeless situation. And then she asked me for money or to find people who had money. Then she talked about some of the volunteers she knows. I asked her what she did for fun and she said she was doing it. She’s not a martyr, you know—she’s doing exactly what she’d be doing if she weren’t a nun. In fact, she’s only a nun because at this point she can’t come up with a reason to give it up. There were some priests, cardinals and popes who she prayed on a long time, apparently to no effect—her words. She’s basically a tough old broad.”

“I know,” Sid said. “I love her. Not Mother Teresa, for sure. She’s more like Ma Kettle.”

He smiled around a forkful of cake. “You’re not old enough to remember Ma and Pa Kettle.”

“Neither are you. You know who would play Mary Jacob in the movie? Shirley MacLaine. Except for the red hair. Mary Jacob is a big woman. Would you have taken her to the wedding?”

“I would, except she’d be working the crowd for donations.”

“Well, you didn’t give her money, did you?” she asked.

“Of course I gave her money,” he said. “She was staring at me over that coffee cup, those bushy brows moving around, expressing her innermost thoughts...”

“You should think it through,” Sid said. “It’s a very worthy cause but you can’t fund it. You work hard for your money.”

“I know. I’m not going to. But I’m going to hit up some people I know. And I bet there are other ways to get her what she needs. Sid, it’s been a long time since I was forced to do something I didn’t want to do. And I learned a lesson.”

“When was the last time?” she asked. “Just out of curiosity.”

“Ah...well, hell, what can it hurt. In the Army I refused a direct order and got in a ton of trouble.”

“What’s a ton of trouble in the Army?”

“Jail,” he said. “Or, as we so affectionately called it, the brig. But I was determined in the moment that I had to do it. It didn’t look great in my file. But I think I’d do it again.”

“That was very brave of you,” she said.

“People do it all the time—go to jail for what they believe in. Journalists do it. Protesters do it. I bet you a hundred dollars Mary Jacob has been arrested.” Then he grinned. “Tell me about the boys. Tell me about your brother. Tell me again why you don’t have a boyfriend.”

So she told him about her nephews and her brother, just brief sketches, but he was very interested. He reciprocated by telling her things she didn’t already know about Cal and Sierra. But then she asked the question he knew would come eventually. “Will your parents be at the wedding?”

“I don’t think Sierra will invite them. My father suffers from dementia of sorts. Not Alzheimer’s, but he’s easily confused and travel with him would be a nightmare. It’s supposed to be a happy occasion, after all.”

“Why are they having the wedding now?” she asked.

“I think it’s a time thing—as in they don’t have that much of it. And gathering what there is of our family isn’t easy. Maggie has her practice in Denver, Cal has a practice here, when the Crossing is full of campers it’s hard for Sully to close up shop and in summer Connie has both the fire department and search and rescue duty. And they’ve decided to become foster parents.”