Patrick's Promise (Cloverleaf #3) (3 page)

“Hi, Mom.” Patrick hurried down the hall to her, planting a gentle kiss on her soft, weathered cheek.

Mary wore her favorite floral apron. She wrapped her arms around him. “How was your day? Did you want to stay for dinner? I made pot pies.”

How could he refuse? “Sure, that’s sounds great.” After he hugged her, he moved to the dining table, where Maggie and Rachel greeted him with happy smiles. “Hey, what are you gals up to?”

“Wedding planning.” Rachel rolled her blue eyes toward the ceiling and let out a long sigh.

Maggie laughed. “You and Liam insisted that you guys wanted to have your wedding on the Fourth of July.”

“Well, I didn’t have a whole lot to say in the matter, now did I?” Rachel rubbed her stomach, which wasn’t nearly as protruding as Maggie’s.

Patrick shook his head and pivoted his body toward the kitchen. “Mom, how were the boys today?”

“Good, as always.” Her smile beamed from across the kitchen as she was checking on several pot pies that were in the oven. With perfect timing as usual, the two young boys ran into the kitchen and made a beeline for Patrick.

“Daddy!” they shouted in unison.

“Hey, my lil guys.” Patrick scooped them up and squeezed them tightly.

Finn giggled as Connor announced. “Grams is making pop pies.”

“I heard. That’s nice of Grams to make pot pies for dinner,” Patrick corrected.

Rachel covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Oh, I just can’t wait. They are so adorable.”

“They have their moments,” Patrick said as released Finn and Connor, who took off running to go play in the backyard.

“How is it? I mean, having twins,” Rachel asked carefully.

Patrick shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s been my only experience so far.”

“You have a point there. I’m just so scared. Like, if one needs to be fed and the other changed, how do you manage?” Rachel looked up at him, her eyes nervous. He knew why.

“You guys will manage.” That was the only answer he could think to say. He didn’t feel like going into any further detail.

Rachel bowed her head. “I suppose you’re right.”

Instantly he felt terrible and mentally kicked himself for not being more sensitive. She hadn’t meant anything by her questions. “Trust me, you guys are going to do great. You will be a good mom, Rachel.” Patrick offered her a smile, which she promptly returned.

Mary came over to the table with a stack of plates. “Do you mind setting the table?”

Patrick nodded. “No problem, Mom. Is Liam coming over? What about Michael and Melanie? I didn’t see her running around.”

“Mel’s with Michael. She’s hanging out with him at his office,” Maggie replied as she rose from her seat to grab the silverware her mother was now bringing to the table.

“Yeah, when is he planning on opening?”

“Well, hard to say, he’s really taking his time setting up the new practice. He worked so much back in Seattle, I think he kind of enjoys just doing nothing.” Maggie started to set the table.

The table was quickly set, and Mary brought over the steaming pot pies from the oven. “I think it’s just lovely that Michael is spending so much quality time with Melanie. It will be even nicer for her when school lets out,” Mary added after she placed all the flaky, golden pies on each plate. “I’m going to let Dad and Grandpa Paddy know that dinner is ready,” she said as she left the kitchen.

Patrick started to head for the back door. “I’ll go get the boys and have them wash up.”

“Yeah, I’d better get out of here. I need to go make dinner for my family,” Maggie said regretfully. She bent down to give Rachel a hug and then walked over to Patrick, hugging him briefly before departing.

Patrick called out to Finn and Connor to come inside as he waited by the door for the boys.

They ran at full speed, again racing to see who could get to the door first. It surprised Patrick to see Connor outrun his brother. The confused look that Finn wore on his little face was priceless.

“Daddy, did you see that? I beated Finn. I’m the fastest.” Connor smiled widely as he passed Patrick to go wash up.

Finn looked almost teary eyed at having lost. Patrick reached out and grabbed Finn’s shoulder. “You can’t always win, son. You guys are both pretty fast. Now go wash up.” He watched as Finn sulked away.

“There’s my little lads.” Patrick could hear his grandfather’s thick brogue as he entered the kitchen, the twins brushing past him. “Patrick, how’s your day been?”

“Good, Grandpa Paddy,” he replied as he followed the older man to the table.

“Everything fine at the shop then?”

Patrick made it a point to keep his grandfather in the loop about the business. When there were any new contracts or ideas, he went to his father and grandfather. They trusted Patrick to run it, but he knew that they appreciated that he came to them for advice and included them in some of the decisions. “Just landed a new job, went for the bid today.”

Grandpa Paddy nodded and took his place at one end of the table. “Well done, son.”

Mary entered shortly after with the twins. “Now go have a seat, my little loves,” she said as she ushered them toward the table.

“Everything looks great, dear.” Patrick’s father, Pat had joined them. He stopped to give Mary a peck on the cheek, and she blushed instantly. Patrick couldn’t help but smile at the simple exchange of affection.

“Everyone help yourselves. Go on, now.” Mary fanned her hands at them encouragingly.

Moments later, Daniel and Liam arrived. “Smells amazing in here,” Daniel announced loudly as he found his place at the table.

“Grams made pop pies. They are so yummy, Uncle Daniel,” Finn said as he tried to fork a rogue potato from his dish.

“Well, they do look yummy.” Daniel ruffled Finn’s springy mop of blonde curls and mussed Connor’s as well before sitting down next to the boys.

Liam bent to kiss Rachel before taking his seat. “Mom, everything looks great. Thanks.”

“Good, now go on and eat. Everything is bound to get cold if you don’t dig in soon,” Mary said. She took her place near Pat.

Patrick surveyed the table. His family looked content as they ate and chatted. He glanced over at Liam and Rachel, but they were unaware of his gaze, lost in their own little love-infused bubble. His own parents’ love could be seen radiating from them as they ate; theirs was that solid kind of love, the foundation upon which their entire family had been built, strong and everlasting. Patrick could feel eyes on him, and he looked to see Grandpa Paddy, the older man’s green eyes speaking volumes to Patrick. He clearly understood what Patrick was feeling; he knew loss. It was as though Patrick was looking in a mirror at a reflection of his future self—the same eyes, the same dark Irish features, even the same name. Even with the family gathered around, he could see how alone his grandfather was, and he sensed their shared sadness. With that, his grandfather gave him a curt nod of sympathy, which Patrick returned with a tight-lipped smile.

Chapter Three

Amber

“Damn.” Amber heard the loud pop sound and felt the car shudder and swerve. She gripped the steering wheel tighter as she eased her foot on the brake.

“Mom, what was that?” Dylan removed his headphones and looked over at her. His messy, overgrown, sandy brown hair hung in his eyes. He swatted it away, revealing his sea green eyes, which were the same color as her own. But he looked just like his father, and it made her heart squeeze tighter in her chest. It had been almost two years—two long, miserable years.

She pulled over to the shoulder of the road, the gravel crunching under the tires. She undid her seat belt. “You stay inside. I’m going to see what’s going on.”

“You want me to go with you?” She could see the hurt behind Dylan’s eyes.

“No, sweetie, it’s fine.” Amber watched as he shrugged and then placed his headphones back over his ears. He was twelve, almost thirteen years old, and in a rush to leave childhood behind.

She unplugged her cellphone from the car charger. She figured she could try and call for help. Once outside the small car, Amber saw she didn’t have much of a signal on her phone. She looked up and down the desolate road. Not a sound. It was eerily quiet. Why did she have to take this old country road? She should have just stayed on the main one, which would have led her straight into Birch Valley. Amber thought she remembered her way around the rural little town. She was born and raised there, after all.

Amber lifted her phone toward the sky in hopes of getting a better signal. She looked down and noticed the frayed pieces of rubber strewn across the pale asphalt road.
Well, crap, that sure doesn’t look good.
She caught sight of the shredded tire on the trailer, which was carrying all of their belongings—what was left from leaving Portland behind. But they were needed in Birch Valley; her parents needed her. Amber bent down to get a closer look at the tire. Anxiety started to burn through her as she realized she was in a little over her head. She had no idea how to change a tire. She looked at her phone again, and when she saw that there was still no signal, panic started to fill her. Amber rose from her crouched position and considered several things as she mounted her hands on her jean-clad hips. She could always try to ride her trusty bicycle to town to get help. Back in Portland, she pedaled her way just about everywhere. The city was incredibly bicycle friendly, and she’d loved it. She loved a lot about Portland, but the last two years had been rough; some of the most trying times in her life, in fact. She was thankful, even relieved, almost, that her parents had asked for her to come back home to help out at their diner. Her son, Dylan, wasn’t thrilled about leaving all of his friends, and basically everything he had ever known, to come to some town in the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t as though they hadn’t visited Birch Valley over the course of the nearly fifteen years she had been gone, but it was one thing to visit, another thing altogether to move there. Lost in her thoughts and focused on her dire situation, Amber almost didn’t see the dark green SUV slowing down on the opposite side of the road.

She couldn’t deny the relief that flooded through her. She was completely out of her league dealing with the blown tire. Maybe the driver of the SUV would be able to help her. She raised her hand slightly, and as the driver rolled down his window she was met with the most incredible emerald eyes staring back at her. They were eyes she remembered a little too well; all of the girls in Birch Valley had fallen in love with those eyes; they belonged to none other than Patrick O’Brien.

***

Patrick

He could see something coming up in the road and started to reduce his speed. He’d wanted to go for a drive. He wasn’t headed anywhere in particular, he just wanted to clear his mind. People hardly traveled on this old country road, and as he pulled up he noticed that a car with a small trailer had its hazard lights on. A woman was standing by the side of it, one arm extended high toward the sky, not to flag him down, but by the looks of it trying to get a signal for her cell phone.
Well, good luck with that.

Rolling his window down, he cautiously asked, “Excuse me, do you need any help?”

What Patrick wasn’t prepared for was the most incredible eyes that stared back at him; they were a deep, sea green, and they appeared helpless and lost. Her face held a hint of something familiar, but he couldn’t place it. Her long black hair hung down to the middle of her back, several strands flying wildly with the swift breeze.

“Hi, thanks so much for stopping. We blew a tire on that trailer.” She pointed at the small rental trailer that was connected to the car.

“Do you mind if I take a look?” Patrick offered.

“I’d be very grateful.”

He maneuvered his own vehicle off the road and parked behind the trailer. Patrick hopped out and met her by the shredded tire; bits and chunks of rubber were scattered nearby. He knelt down to see if there was a spare. Luckily there was.

“I can change this and get you back on the road,” he said as he assessed the situation. “I’m Patrick O’Brien, by the way.” He extended his hand to her after wiping it on the back of his jeans.

Her mouth opened wide into a pleasant and grateful smile. “I thought that was you. I’m Amber Mills,” she said but then shook her head as Patrick gave her a confused look. “I mean, I was Amber Herrick. My parents own the diner in town. You and I went to school together.”

That’s where I know her from. I knew she had looked familiar.
Patrick was floored with how gorgeous Amber was. He didn’t remember her looking like that in school; he would’ve remembered her for sure.

She stood a lot shorter than him, her curvy figure hugged in dark wash jeans and a soft red cotton shirt. Patrick couldn’t explain the sudden attraction he felt toward her as he tried desperately to pull himself together. This wasn’t like him at all, easily stirred up by a woman.

“So, what brings you back to Birch Valley?”

Amber bit her lip. Patrick tried hard to resist staring at her full mouth as she said, “Well, I’m moving back.”

Damn.

Patrick swallowed, his eyes trained on the fullness of her pink lips. “R-really?” he stammered as he fought to focus on anything else than the movement of her mouth.

Amber lowered her gaze to the weathered asphalt road. “Yeah, my parents need my help at the diner.”

Patrick furrowed his brow as confusion started to set in. “Everything okay there?”

“Not really, no,” he heard her say as they started to walk back to his car. He lifted up the back hatch of his SUV to grab the tools for the job. Patrick wasn’t quite sure what to say next; he wasn’t one for prying into others’ lives. He decided to wait until she elaborated a bit more.

Amber let out a heavy sigh. “My dad’s health isn’t so great. To be honest, the last couple years haven’t been so great either.”

Patrick heard a door shut and saw a figure shuffling its feet, headed in their direction. He noticed pale brown, shaggy hair. The kid, not quite a teenager, was in need of a haircut. The boy was dressed in slightly baggy jeans and an oversized, fluorescent blue t-shirt. As he reached them, he moved protectively closer to Amber.

“Oh, hey, Dylan. This is Patrick O’Brien. I went to school with him.” Amber’s smile sent an unexpected jolt through Patrick as he extended his hand to Dylan.

“Nice to meet you, Dylan.”

There was a resilient stance to the kid, who stood noticeably shorter than Patrick, but nearly as tall as Amber. She was a small thing herself but curvy in all the right places, and he couldn’t keep himself from noticing.

Dylan gave Patrick a solid handshake, but the gleam in his eyes, which were the same color as Amber’s, were telling. They said a great deal—there was a spark of interest, of irritation and warning, but something frailer. “Nice to meet you as well, Mr. O’Brien.”

The kid had manners, which really impressed Patrick. He looked over at Amber, who as anyone would expect, was beaming with pride.

“Would you mind helping me put on the spare?” Patrick couldn’t stop the words coming from his mouth. He wasn’t sure why he had just invited this kid to help him, but he could tell by the pleased look on Amber’s beautiful face he had made the right call.

Dylan proved to be fairly decent at assisting Patrick with the changing of the tire. The boy wasn’t too familiar with the tools needed, but he seemed eager to help and that was enough for Patrick. The small bit of chit-chat and general getting-to-know-one-another made the task go by quickly. Amber stood by waiting, but more importantly watching. When they were done, she thanked Patrick and hugged Dylan close to her side; he could see that the motherly affection embarrassed Dylan.

Patrick couldn’t explain the deep ache he felt as he watched her get back into the small, blue sedan, giving him a friendly wave as she pulled out carefully and slowly onto the desolate road. No woman had ever caused this kind of reaction, at least not since Beth died. The thought of Beth was sobering as he got into his SUV and started to trail Amber’s car.

***

Amber

“I think he seemed pretty cool, Mom,” said Dylan as he looked out the window. They headed toward town.

Amber looked in her mirror and could see Patrick’s SUV behind them. She couldn’t explain the sudden nervous knots she had felt when she had said goodbye to him. She found herself staring at the gorgeous Mr. Patrick O’Brien as he effortlessly changed the tire and allowed her son to help. So not only was this man beyond good looking, but seeing his patience with Dylan had sparked something inside her, a little, wicked, yearning flame that had been quiet for a very long time. Amber thought she would never feel this way again. Maybe moving back to Birch Valley would prove to be far more interesting than she had originally thought.

Amber pulled into the large parking lot. It was nearing dinner time, and she could see the diner was hopping. The restaurant was one of Birch Valley’s favorite places to eat, so the bustle was no surprise. The small town didn’t have a ton of eateries, and Amber had been spoiled by the ample venues in Portland. In the last couple years, she had relied on dining on take-out quite a bit. She hadn’t felt like cooking, which had been a passion of hers for years. Hopefully being back in the restaurant and being forced to cook would inspire her love for it again.

She looked over at Dylan, a mixture of emotions present on his face. “It’s going to be okay, Dylan,” Amber attempted to reassure him as she patted his leg.

“I just wish we were back home.”

“I know you do, sweetheart, but your grandparents need us right now.”

Dylan huffed and stared back at Amber. “All my friends are back in Portland. This place is so…tiny.”

Amber forced herself to smile. “You’ll make friends here. There’s only a couple weeks left of school, so that will give you time to meet some kids. Trust me, summers are awesome here. There are tons of things to do.” Amber caught herself sounding overly animated, as though she needed to convince herself that Birch Valley was more exciting than it really was. She had been so quick to leave after she graduated from high school, and winding up in Portland had not been part of her plan. But having her husband die hadn’t been part of her plan either. “Let’s go in and let them know we’re here.”

“Okay, Mom.” Dylan gave her a weak smile. He was a good kid, but he’d been through a lot over the last couple years, and it killed her having to take him away from all that he really knew. Portland was home; it was where all his memories had been made, where his friends were, and where his father was buried.

The little bell on the weathered and tattered string still chimed as Amber opened the door.
Some things never change.
Instantly, she was hit with an array of delicious scents that hung in the air, and her stomach growled. The diner was almost full; there were customers seated along the long counter, the booths were all packed, and only a couple of empty tables remained in the center of the dining area.

“There they are!” A high-pitched squeal of delight came from a short woman, who had the same shade of dark hair as Amber’s.

“Mom.” Amber was pulled into a tight embrace. She inhaled her mother’s light floral perfume, which made her always smell like gardenias.

“Ah, my precious grandson. Oh my, you’re getting so tall.” Dylan was almost past her mother’s height, but that wasn’t saying a whole lot. The women in Amber’s family all had been on the shorter side, and a little plump.

“Is Dad here?” Amber craned her neck to see if her father was back in the kitchen.

“No, he’s at home resting.” Her mother’s eyes, which were a soft brown, turned wet. Amber reached for her and gave her another hug. She could see the exhaustion etched onto her mother’s face, despite the feeble attempt at giving Amber and Dylan a smile of over-exaggerated happiness. “You guys are probably starving. Let me feed you.”

“Well, I can help,” Amber said as they were ushered to an open spot at the counter. Dylan mounted the bar stool excitedly. She knew he was thrilled with the prospect of eating, since that was all he ever did these days. The saying couldn’t ring any truer about boys eating you out of house and home, at least in Amber’s case.