Brute: The Valves MC (12 page)

Between tidying, prepping ingredients, defrosting turkey, and taking care of other menial chores I suddenly felt were necessities, I was so busy I didn’t notice the hours passing. I barely had time to breathe, and I was shocked to see the clock had slipped from morning to afternoon.

“What have I done all week?” I asked myself aloud. How had I managed to end up doing everything on Thanksgiving day? I shook my head, wiping the already clean counter.

“Hello? Anybody home?” I heard Dawson call from the entry.

“Don’t be silly, Daddy. Of course Mari’s home,” came Ginger’s typical voice of reason.

I was laughing by the time they reached the kitchen. “You two should do a comedy show together,” I suggested, turning a cheek for Dawson to kiss.

He shook his head. “I get stage fright.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Really?” It seemed highly unlikely to me.

“I haven’t been on stage since an incident in first grade,” he confided. He made himself comfortable, fumbling with the French press.

I gasped. “Oh, God! I forgot coffee!” I felt like the day would be totally ruined.

“I’m making some. Want a cup?” Dawson pretended not to notice my freak out. I exhaled some tension and understood he stayed calm to calm me down as he said, “Why don’t you sit down and have some coffee, baby?” He took my hand and let me to a barstool, and Ginger eyed me with interest.

“You look tired, Mari. Didn’t you sleep?”

“I did, but not very well,” I admitted.

“Why? There’s lots of work to do today.” She was confused.

“I know, but that’s part of why I didn’t sleep good,” I told her.

“Like you were nervous?”

I nodded. “That’s right.”

She came over, and I bent to kiss her. She told me matter-of-factly, “Well, you shouldn’t be. When is your sister coming?”

I gasped again. Another fail. “I completely forgot!”

“What?” Dawson asked as he poured the aromatic coffee into matching cups.

“My sister! She texted me her flight info, and her plane gets in this afternoon. What time is it?” I couldn’t see the clock from where I sat but I prayed that I still had time to make it.

“It’s 3:15,” he called.

“Oh, God, she lands in an hour.” I jumped to my feet and started pacing. “Oh, my God! I still have to season the turkey and put it in the oven. And I have to cut the apples for the stuffing. The pumpkin pies have to come out of the fridge. There’s no way I can do all that before I leave!” I looked down at myself and groaned. “I have to change, too, and I’ll need a shower when I get back.”

“Baby?” Dawson’s gentle voice cut through my manic episode, and I realized I’d practically worn a path in the carpet as I ticked off tasks on my fingers.

“What?” I asked, feeling defeated.

“Go change, and I’ll pour your coffee in a thermos. I can season the turkey and cut apples. And Ginger can help. Isn’t that right, baby?”

The girl smiled. “Uh-huh.”

Dawson offered me an encouraging nod. “You can leave for the airport now. How does that sound?”

I could have cried with my relief. “Thank you, Dawson,” I called over my shoulder, running to my room. I should have kissed him first, but I was already struggling with a purple sweater and knew I was in a race against time. I would have run to the kitchen half dressed and hopping into my pants, but I remembered Ginger and finished buttoning my jeans first. I pulled on socks and tied my hair back, and I stopped in the kitchen on the way to grab my purse. I hugged the thermos Dawson handed me, and I pushed up on my toes to kiss him.

Then, I flew out the door and was headed down the road. “Oh, shit! I forgot to tell him how the oven works,” I cursed, wincing. I squeezed the steering wheel and fought the initial urge to turn around for a full technical presentation. “He’ll figure it out,” I told myself, repeating it a couple of times for reassurance.

Halfway through the drive, my shoulders started to relax. I looked to my right and saw the coffee thermos. “Hallelujah!” I whispered, reaching for my salvation in a cup. I needed to calm my nerves before meeting my sister. Her energy was enough to handle, so I breathed in and out rhythmically, sipping the coffee every three breaths as I focused on the road. As the airport loomed in the distance, I was as calm as I could get under the circumstances. I noticed my hands shaking and decided to lay off the coffee.

I checked my wristwatch as I finally stepped out of the car and felt a bit lightheaded from too many deep breaths. I grew agitated as I counted only ten minutes before the plane touched down. “Breathe,” I encouraged myself, “but not too deep.” I raced through throngs of people arriving for Thanksgiving and ran, tunnel vision coming on like a superpower. I managed to zigzag around people I didn’t truly see without bumping into anyone. It took about five minutes to reach the designated baggage claim area, and I leaned against the wall, trying to control the burning sensation in my lungs. It was harder than it sounded.

I was still looking down with my eyes closed, trying to breathe evenly, when a set of arms pulled me away from the wall and wrapped around me tightly. I almost kicked the person until I smelled my sister’s familiar perfume. She still rubbed some scented dry oil on her skin, giving the illusion of a natural scent of rose and lime.

“Mari! What on earth are you doing?” she asked with a bright smile.

“Catching my breath,” I admitted, ashamed.

“And people think you’re the organized one?” Georgie teased. I had to admit, despite being wild and adventurous; she was the most punctual person I knew. It was a trait of Georgie's that you could always depend on, if nothing else.

“How have you been?” I eyed the bags around her in amazement. “God, that’s a lot of luggage.” I reached to help with the loaded trolley, but she slapped my hand away.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry, I’ve been into sports lately. I can handle it.”

“Oh? Sports?” My incredulity must’ve been written all over my face because she looked offended and then laughed riotously. I shook my head. “I’ve missed you.” I hugged her tightly.

“That came out of nowhere.”

“I’m serious,” I insisted as we started walking. “How have you been?”

“I’m fine. Got this awesome job, been training a little with this guy I met a while ago. Things are great. What can I say? But who cares about me? I want to know about your Mystery Man.”

“You’ll see. You’ll meet them when we get to my house.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Them? Are you a closet naughty girl?”

“What?” Then, I realized what I said…and what I hadn’t told Georgie yet. “Oh, no, he has a daughter.”

She frowned. “How old?”

“Five. She’s one of my students.”

“Oh, Mari! You are a naughty girl!” she teased, her laughter so loud and contagious that people turned to stare.

I walked ahead of her, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Before Georgie could say anything, my phone rang. I was literally saved by the bell. “Hey, Dawson.”

“Is everything okay?” he asked. I heard water running in the background.

“Yeah, I’m with my sister now. We’re heading home.”

“Okay, good. I thought I’d keep you updated with the preparation here. The turkey’s roasting, and I have a surprise for you. Rather, we have a surprise.”

“Please tell me you haven’t burned down my house,” I joked, though I considered the possibility.

“Woah! Are you psychic?” he asked.

“What? Stop it, Dawson!” My heart raced, and it took several attempts to unlock the car.

He laughed before reassuring me. “Don’t worry, everything is fine. I said a surprise, not a catastrophe.”

“That would constitute a surprise, too.”

“Do I put the bags in the trunk?” my sister asked.

I turned and nodded.

“Is that your sister?” Dawson asked.

Two conversations. Great. “Yep.”

“She sounds so much different than you,” he commented.

“Is that good or bad, I wonder?” I eyed Georgie as she threw her bags on top of each other with no regard to contents or space management. “I have to go. I need to teach my sister to load the trunk. I’ll see you at home.” I hung up.

Georgie rolled her eyes at me and stepped back.

“What? There’s not enough room in my trunk,” I said defensively. I took everything out and played Tetris, loading it so that I didn’t need to jump on the lid to make it latch. Georgie was already belted into the passenger seat, searching for a radio station. I climbed in. “Let’s go home.”

Everything should have gone smoothly on the ride home. It wasn’t that long a drive. But Lady Luck was not on my side, and I suffered three traffic jams, a mysteriously dry tank, and my phone dying. My sister had also tuned to a metal station that racked my nerves, creating the most disastrous drive in the history of mankind.

When I finally pulled into my driveway, it was already getting dark, and I realized I’d been holding my breath for the last few minutes. Georgie, on the other hand, looked cheerful and fresh as a daisy. She jumped out and went to the back, still humming the last grinding excuse for music that had shaken my car. I turned off the radio and chanced getting out myself.

“Killjoy!” she accused, blowing a bubble with the gum she chewed.

“How? Where? The gum…”

She shrugged. “Found it in our car.”

“When? I was right next to you!” I was more puzzled than the situation called for, and the expression on Georgie’s face told me she thought I might be high or something. I realized how edgy I’d gotten and the roiling in the pit of my stomach turned into a fit of laughter.

Georgie laughed, too, and before I could breathe, she had already unloaded the luggage. “Aren’t you inviting your sister inside?” I heard Ginger at the front door.

I turned to Georgie, whose face lit up. “Oh, my God! You must be the daughter. I. Love. You!” She ran over, picked Ginger up, and spun her around like they were old friends.

Dawson peered around the doorframe, and I held up my hands in surrender. I felt powerless, standing there in the middle of Georgie’s luggage. Everyone seemed awfully cheerful, Dawson chuckling as he magically collected all the bags in one load, depositing them directly in the guest room. My sister was getting acquainted with my kitchen and its contents and took a Ginger-led tour. I seemed to be the only one feeling completely exhausted.

“Oh, my God! Have you seen this cranberry sauce, Mari?” Georgie called.

“How could I?” I mumbled just before Dawson swept me off my feet, literally.

“Why the Grinch face, baby?” he asked quietly, carrying me across the living room.

I sighed. “The Grinch is a Christmas character, baby.”

“So? I’m unconventional.” He set me down before stepping into the kitchen, and I pulled his head down into a kiss, needing his taste like it was medicine. He understood, hugging me tightly, and I felt the tension of the day seeping out of me.

“I need to shower, baby. How’s dinner coming?”

“Perfectly. Don’t worry about a thing. The table will be set before you get back.”

“I love you,” I whispered, tears of gratitude threatening to spill at any second. He kissed both eyes, caressed my hair, all in a silent response.