One Day in Apple Grove (2 page)

Jack slipped the blood pressure cuff on Joe’s arm and waited for the digital numbers to register.

Joe chuckled. “There was a time when your father used to pump up the cuff and use his stethoscope to check my pressure. Times sure have changed.”

Jack nodded. “But one thing remains the same: my dad and I care deeply about—and enjoy caring for—the good people of Apple Grove.” While he made notes to Joe’s chart, he asked, “Speaking of good people, how is Meg feeling?”

If Joe’s smile was any indication, she was doing just fine. “She’s gone from grim and green to glowing.”

Jack and Meg had been friends—treating each other like siblings—since they toddled together at their first Founder’s Day Picnic.

He smiled and said, “I’ve heard from my parents that she’s an amazing mom and that those twins of hers are keeping her busy. If you need me to butt heads with Meg about going back to her regular work schedule, you just let me know.”

Joe frowned. “She’s exhausted. But Dan’s keeping an eye on her, especially now that those little scamps of theirs are running her ragged and getting into everything.” He waited a moment or so before adding, “Dan Eagan’s a good man.” Joe paused and said, “If you want to keep up with your PT, Dan usually jogs every morning. I go with him a few times a week. Give him a call.”

Jack chuckled. “Hmmm, the patient giving the doctor advice, but I could use a jogging partner.” He cleared his throat and added, “My dad had good things to say about him and how easily he seemed to fit in from the moment he arrived. Mom couldn’t say enough about the way he rescued Charlie Doyle and Tommy Hawkins off the railroad trestle bridge.”

Joe looked up at Jack and asked, “Do you believe in fate?”

“With our Irish heritage, you need to ask?” Joe was still laughing when Jack said, “My dad wanted me to make sure you are getting in your daily walks and following the diet he gave you.” Joe’s heart attack scare a few years ago had Jack wishing he could have gone home to see for himself that his childhood friend’s father was recovering, but he was in the middle of his internship at the time.

The older man hesitated. “Not a big fan of green things.”

Jack tried to keep a straight face. He could take the green stuff or leave it, but he was at least twenty years younger and thirty pounds lighter than Joe.

“Start small and add dressing if it’s salad or a little bit of peanut butter if it’s celery.” When Joe frowned, Jack added, “I could insist on a stricter diet, higher in vegetables and fish—”

“I’ll give it another try, but I’m not promising anything.”

“Do it for yourself and your daughters, Joe,” Jack said quietly. “By the way, how are Cait and Grace doing?” He hadn’t seen either of Meg’s younger sisters in years. Cait had been eleven and Grace ten when he’d joined the navy, so if he had seen either one of them when he’d been on leave, he didn’t remember.

Joe snorted with laughter, a man’s man through and through. A former coast guardsman, he still ran a few times a week and wore his graying hair in military fashion: high and tight. “Driving me nuts, trying to keep me from my threat of running our handyman business again.”

“Mom said that you’d retired and turned everything over to your girls.” Jack pointed the tongue depressor at Joe. “Say ah.”

Joe did and Jack nodded. “Looks normal. I can have a talk with your daughters, but I might not recognize them if they walked past me on the sidewalk.”

Joe chuckled. “They’re hard to miss. Almost half a foot taller than Meg—close to five feet eight—and both strawberry blonde, like their mother, with green eyes.”

Jack sat down on his rolling stool and used his feet to push off so he was back in front of his laptop. He finished entering data and turned back around. “Any more weddings on the horizon?”

Joe sighed. “I had high hopes for one young man Cait had been dating, but she’s been so busy picking up the slack, what with Meg’s morning sickness, that she hasn’t had the time or energy to date. Grace hasn’t brought anyone around to meet me, but I know she’s seeing someone from out of town.”

Jack noticed Joe’s worry lines when he was talking about his daughters and wanted to do something to erase them. As a physician, he would always treat his patients to the best of his ability, but here in Apple Grove, there was much more to be considered. With Joe Mulcahy, it was the link to his childhood friend and the need to help her father. “If I learned anything during my years in the navy, I learned that life and insurgents come at you with both barrels—” He buried the ever-present turmoil just bubbling below the surface to a controllable level and finished what he’d wanted to say. “Life is too short.”

He thought of the marine that bled out while he had worked in earnest to stitch the young man back together under fire. If he didn’t close the lid to the box where he kept those memories, he’d be up all night, positive he could hear the whistling sound of the explosive before it hit, feel the white-hot agonizing pain of having his leg shatter while bits of shrapnel imbedded into his flesh.

“Doc, are you all right?”

Jack snapped back to attention in time to see the look of concern on the older man’s face. “Yeah…um…yes. Yes, I’m fine.”

“War is hell,” Joe stated flatly, sensing the direction of Jack’s thoughts.

Jack couldn’t agree more.

Caitlin Mulcahy was running late. She had promised her favorite customer, Mr. Weatherbee, that she’d get an early start, but she’d spent hours after work out in the shed by the Mulcahys’ barn—her woodworking shop—where she dreamed big and built furniture for family and friends. She’d finally closed the door to her shed on the half-finished rocking chair and nearly finished set of shelves just past midnight. All the shelves needed were a light sanding and a coat of varnish to finish them. But the rocking chair needed the rockers and a good sanding before it’d be ready for a clear coat.

She hoped to surprise her sister Meg and the new niece or nephew that would add to her older sister’s growing family with the shelves and the rocking chair. Being behind schedule would only add to her day and the ever-growing list of people to see and things to fix. It was hard trying to squeeze in the work of another person.

She missed Meg working in their family handyman business—and missed her sister taking care of the jobs she used to handle. “I really hate plumbing.” She sighed and turned around, heading back to the shop to pick up the pipe dope, adhesive to seal the ends of the pipe, and the length of PVC pipe she’d forgotten.

It was because of her sister that they were behind on jobs and one man—make that woman—short. Not that she could really blame Meg for getting pregnant…again. On top of chasing around her two-year-old twins, Danny and Joey, she couldn’t be expected to jump right in and work the same hours she had been, even part-time.

Meg marrying Dan, the town’s new phys ed teacher, had been the best thing that had ever happened to her. The ladies in town still talked about the day he stalked into Honey’s Hair Salon and declared his love for Meg in front of everyone. Then again, they were also still talking about the way the sheriff stormed in and hauled salon owner Honey B. over his shoulder. Both couples had been happily married for three years…boy, how time flew by.

Love
must
change
people
, she mused. She’d never seen her sister or Honey B. so happy. Even her dad’s fledgling romance with the widowed Mary Murphy had him whistling some days. “Guess with the right person, it will be worth it.”

Too bad she hadn’t found that right person herself, even though she’d dated the few eligible men in town who had interested her. She’d never admit it to Gracie, but her younger sister was right: there was a downside to living in a small town—there were only so many eligible bachelors.

Cait set those thoughts aside; it wouldn’t do her any good to dwell on what-ifs. Concentrating on the list of parts in her hand, she gathered what she’d need for the day from the family’s shop on Main Street. Toolbox in hand, she walked back outside and was distracted by the sunny glare off her grandfather’s legacy—his 1950 Ford F1 pickup. The symbol of the Mulcahys’ dependability, generations of Apple Grove residents sighed with relief when they saw that the Mulcahys were on their way to solve whatever problems needed fixing.

“The best part of Meggie not being here is that I get to drive the pickup.” Eyes gleaming, she opened the passenger door and carefully stowed her tools and supplies.

Sliding behind the wheel, she sighed. Tonight she’d talk to her dad about hiring a part-timer to ease the heavy workload. She started the truck and put it in gear, giving a quick glance to the diner across the street. She wished she had time to stop in and catch up with her friends, Peggy and Kate. But she was already running a little late. Maybe if she pulled a U-turn instead of driving around the block, she could get to Mr. Weatherbee’s faster.

Checking her mirrors, she goosed the gas pedal and cranked the wheel hard, but the pickup’s turning radius wasn’t as tight as she was used to. To her horror, the truck bounced up onto the sidewalk, grazing the bark on the sugar maple across from the Knitting Room—the one on the corner—right next to Mulcahys’ shop! It was early and the Internet café was closed, but what if it was loud enough for her sister to hear? Grace was probably on the phone with their dad right now.

She eased the truck back onto Main Street, shaking like a leaf. When she got out of the cab, she braced herself to see the worst. “Crap!” A trio of nasty-looking scratches on the passenger-side door had gouged the paint all the way down to the metal.

Peggy called her name, and Cait looked up from the evidence that she’d done the unthinkable. “Pop’s gonna kill me.”

Her friend leaned close, then straightened. “Maybe it’s not as bad as it looks. Can you ask Dan to take a look at it? He’s always working on cars or trucks with your dad.”

Cait’s gaze met hers. “Those two are thick as thieves. If I asked him to help, but swore him to secrecy, he’d probably go all Boy Scout on me and tell my dad. He wouldn’t want to take the chance that Pop won’t let him work on the Model A if he found out Dan was covering for me—they’re almost finished with the restoration.”

Peggy gave her a hug as Grace rushed out the front door. “I heard a—” She stopped midsentence and stared. “Whoa. What happened?”

“Door’s scratched.”

Grace shook her head as she looked at the damage Cait pointed to. Grace met her gaze. “I wouldn’t wait to tell him.”

Cait wished she could start the whole day all over again. “I know, I know. This never would’ve happened if I hadn’t stayed up so late out in my woodshop, which I wouldn’t have had to do if you didn’t keeping squeezing in so many jobs into my schedule. I would’ve been up on time and already at Mr. Weatherbee’s.”

“You’re going to blame your crappy driving on me?” Grace yelled. “If it weren’t for me—”

“Girls,” Peggy broke in. “You’re drawing a crowd. If you don’t want someone to take a picture and post it online, Cait, you’d better get moving.”

Caitlin scrubbed her face with her hands and sighed. “Thanks, Peggy.”

Grace glared at her. “Don’t forget to tell Pop.”

“I’ll tell him tonight.”

As Cait turned onto Dog Hollow Road, her phone was ringing, but she ignored it, praying that when she got to Bob’s Gas and Gears, he wouldn’t already know about the damage to the truck—because if he knew, her dad would know. And Cait wanted the chance to tell him in person.

Bob Stewart’s face showed instant concern when she pulled into his shop. “What happened? Did you get the guy’s license plate?”

Cait’s hands were shaking. She didn’t want to lie, so she stalled. “It all happened so fast.”

“Lucky for you, they built these trucks to last. There’s no dent, but still your dad’s gonna be pissed. This old truck is a part of your family, and he treats it like a baby.”

She got out as Bob was gently running a hand along the door. His head shot up and he stared at her—was there any telltale bark on the door? “It was an accident,” she began. Her hands were trembling, so she stuck them in her pockets. “I was pulling a U-ey on Main Street—”

“That was your first mistake—”

“I know,” she told him. “I didn’t realize that the truck’s turning radius wasn’t the same as a car.”

He looked like he was going to say something but ended up shaking his head. “Was there a fire?”

Baffled, she answered, “No.”

“Then where were you in such an all-fired hurry to go?” he asked.

“I was running late and forgot something at the shop—”

“So instead of driving just a little farther where you could turn around, you pull an illegal turn in the middle of town. What did you do, hit the hundred-year-old maple next to your shop?” Bob whistled. “That scratch went through three layers of paint: clear coat, color, and primer—all the way down to the metal.” He looked from the door and back to Cait.

“How soon can you fix it?”

“You planning on telling your dad?”

“Later.”

“If you put it off,” Bob began, “he’s bound to hear before you tell him. Are you sure you want to wait?”

Cait shook her head. “No. I’m not sure, but it’s hard because I know how much this truck means to him.”

“Means a lot to the town. People have come to associate that truck with the reputation your great-great-grandfather began and your father, and now you girls are continuing,” he reminded her. “It’s not just transportation.”

“I know.” She blinked back tears. She felt awful, but she’d make it right.

“Why don’t you call your dad now?” Bob patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll go look up the paint codes to see if I have to order any of them.”

Cait nodded, mumbling, “He didn’t let Meg drive the truck until a couple years ago. The only reason I’m driving it now is because she’s been working so few hours.”

“You’ll feel better after you tell him.”

Cait knew he was right. And as much as she wanted to tell her father in person, she also didn’t want him hearing the news from someone else. Like Grace. Steeling her nerves, she dialed her father.

“Hey, Pop, it’s Cait.” Before he could start in with the twenty questions about how the jobs were going, she said, “I have bad news.”

“You didn’t get hurt on the job, did you?”

“No…I didn’t—”

Before she could tell him what happened, his voice took on a frantic edge, “Is it Grace or Meg?”

“No—it’s the F1…”

The silence on the other end of the line was starting to unnerve her and just when she thought she would crack, her father asked, “Is it totaled then?”

“What? No! The passenger door is badly scratched…down to the metal. I’m out at Bob’s Gas and Gears and he’s looking up the paint codes.”

She heard him sigh and braced herself for the inquisition. “How did it happen? Where were you when you got hit?”

“If you’ll give me a chance, I’ll tell you.”

He grumbled something she couldn’t quite hear before falling silent.

“I was running late and had to pick something up at the shop. I tried to pull a U-ey on Main, but kinda ran out of road.”

“Let me get this straight. You pulled an illegal turn in the middle of Main Street while driving the F1 with our name in gold letters on the side?”

Clearing her throat, she answered, “Yes.”

“Didn’t you realize that the turning radius on that truck isn’t the same as the compact car you usually drive?” He paused, then asked, “Did you hit the tree by our shop?”

Caitlin looked over at Bob, who had stopped writing when her father’s voice started to increase in volume. The older man motioned for her to continue. Knowing there was no way Bob would stop eavesdropping on her conversation, she sighed and answered her dad’s questions. “I didn’t exactly hit the tree…I grazed it.”

“No dents?”

“Nope!” Bob answered for Caitlin.

“And you’re all right?” her father asked again.

“Yes, Pop.”

“We’ll talk later. Put Bob on.”

She handed her phone to her father’s friend and walked over to the edge of the road, staring out at the field across from Bob’s shop. She heard the distinctive song from the other side of the road and smiled as her love of nature distracted her while she waited for Bob to end the call. A trio of red-winged blackbirds sang as they perched on the fence by the small pond in the middle of the farmer’s field. They were males; their scarlet wing bars were puffed up as they sang. “Must be trying to attract a few females.”

The deep rumble of Bob’s voice had her looking over her shoulder at the F1. She had made a huge mistake that could have ended badly. Desperately trying not to think of another car, another accident that ended with her mother lying in a hospital bed, she wrapped her arms around her waist, determined to focus on the trill of songbirds and the cloudless spring sky. She succeeded until Bob called her name.

She drew in a deep breath and turned around. She hoped the repair wouldn’t cut too deeply into her savings, but had no idea how much it would cost to special order paint. Maybe they wouldn’t have to repaint the whole door, but what she knew about removing paint would fill a thimble.

“Your dad agreed it would be best to fix it right away. Can’t take a chance that the metal will rust.”

Before she could ask if she was supposed to walk to Mr. Weatherbee’s farm, Bob added, “Grace is coming to pick you up. Your dad said you could drop her at the shop and drive the car until the truck’s finished.”

“Is my dad—”

“He’s in the middle of a nasty plumbing repair—his words—so he’ll stop by on his way back through town.” She nodded and Bob added, “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of his baby and fix her right up.”

“I’ll let you get started.” She walked over to the truck and grabbed her toolbox. “I’ll start walking back to town and meet Grace halfway.”

He nodded, but his attention was already focused on the pickup.

Birds swooped low in the field, keeping her company as she trudged toward town.

Grace must have left the moment their father called. Caitlin waved to get her sister’s attention. Her sister slowed down and Cait got in. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

Grace nodded and drove toward Bob’s.

“Why aren’t you going back to town?”

Grace was frowning as she pulled into the parking lot, waved to Bob, and signaled. “I am,” her sister told her. “What I’m not going to do is pull a U-turn in the middle of the road. Besides, I imagine the supplies you came back to get for Mr. Weatherbee’s barn are still in the truck.”

“It must be tough,” Caitlin grumbled.

“What?”

“Being the perfect little sister,” Cait added.

Grace’s hands tightened on the wheel, but she didn’t say anything.

Caitlin was grateful that the ride back to town was a short one. When her sister pulled up out front and parked, Grace tossed Cait the keys without a word, slamming the driver’s side door and then the front door to the shop.

Wonder how long
she’ll be giving me the silent treatment this time.

***

A few hours later, she packed up her tools, highly satisfied with the way the rebuild of Mr. Weatherbee’s barn turned out. She was just finishing loading up the car when her favorite customer came walking toward her with a bit of metal and glass dangling from his hand.

“Thought you might like to hang this one with the others.”

Cait’s heart turned over when she saw the lovely wind chime he held out to her. “It’s so beautiful.” Her eyes lit up as she reached for the intricate twist of copper, silver, and green sea glass. “I love it!”