Poppy's Passions (8 page)

"Poppy,” Michael corrected, and hugged their mother. “She's been ill and wanted a bath before she met anyone."

"Yeah, Mom, Trevor got our woman shot,” Cody said, kissing her powder-smooth cheek. “And broke his arm."

"Fucking tattletale,” Trevor snarled, cuffing his brother's shoulder, hard.

"Trevor,” Mary snapped, and lifted her cheek for a kiss. “Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Mom. The doctor said I'll heal with no problems. And Poppy's okay too. The bullet creased her arm a little. The thing making her sick is the bug she caught at the hospital. I had nothing to do with that. In fact we all agreed it was probably Cody who made her sick. He's been known to do that to perfectly nice women."

"Well, that sounds like a story for one of the long winter nights ahead,” Mary decided, and Michael knew he wasn't alone in his relief. “I've got soup and bread bowls in our kitchen if you boys don't feel like cooking."

"We'll do dishes,” Michael promised. He was willing to pay the usual price for the meals they mooched if it meant buying them a little more time with Poppy and guaranteeing they would all be with her when she met their family the first time.

"Are there any chocolate chip cookies?” Cody asked, and was frowned at by their mother. “What? I'm not begging for cookies, Mom. Poppy just likes chocolate and after the past few days... Hell, I'll make her some tonight."

"Quit cussing,” Mary advised, and patted his cheek. “I'll take some out of Paul's stash in the freezer for your Poppy. Oh, and make sure she knows she can change her room however she wants. A girl needs her own space, remember that boys. Supper's ready whenever she is."

Michael closed the door and locked it. Their mother could still enter through any of their rooms, which connected with Poppy's, but he knew she wouldn't. Privacy mattered, at least it had since the last raid for dirty magazines and beer before Cody's eighteenth birthday. It was why the house was so big and the doors locked. All the doors, even, maybe especially, in the laundry rooms.

"Think Poppy needs help?” Michael asked, and his brothers’ grins matched his as they headed for the bathroom.

Poppy opened the door before they could and stepped out, already dressed in jeans, a turtleneck and one of Trevor's plain, black sweatshirts. “It's like three cats stalking a canary."

"Pretty bird,” Trevor said, with a big grin, fingers at the hem of the plundered shirt. “I know you like this because it's baggy, but I gotta’ say I love seeing you in my clothes."

"Yeah, well, I was cold too,” she answered, crossing her arms defensively over her belly. Michael looked to Cody and they backed away before defensive went further. “And too hungry to be in the mood for any of those grins, so just put them away for now."

"Hell, sweetheart, we'll feed you first,” Cody promised. “Is there anything special you want? Mom has chicken soup over in her kitchen and invited us for dinner, or we could make something. Michael re-stocked on groceries before we left. They'll understand if you need some time to settle."

"Supper with your parents is fine.” It was the only answer she could think of and after she said it she knew it was the right one. If she waited she'd be more nervous when the time to meet them finally came.

Truth be told, she was very curious to see what kind of people stayed in a plural marriage for decades and raised such incredible children. Steven's parents were long dead when they began dating so she'd never dealt with meeting a boy's or man's parents. Before she could get more nervous she let Cody walk her out, Michael ahead, Trevor behind, sneaking touches as often as possible and defusing the seriousness she might have placed on the meeting.

The house was a beautiful wonder. With ceilings high in the middle giving way to an open second floor Cody explained held offices, playrooms and guestrooms, everything seemed open. There was also a basement that housed a bar, gym, and a third kitchen for Mary's canning they would show her later.

The next area was a big, beautiful commons full of heavy leather furniture and a massive stone fireplace that reached the ceiling. Flanking it were windows letting in a constant flow of nature with no curtains or blinds to interfere. Next, was a formal dining room, two dozen chairs around the table, and extra ones around buffets. More closets and two bathrooms later, the floor plan duplicated to what she'd already seen, but the wood was warmer with framed pictures of wild life and family decorating the space.

Michael stopped at the closed door, the kitchen she assumed from the smells, and turned to face her with open arms. She laid her head on his chest, Cody still at her side, Trevor cuddling from behind.

It was the warmest, sweetest hug she'd ever experienced, soothing and comforting. They knew they were not only asking a hell of a lot from her, but also asking her to adjust to the relationship in front of their parents. On any given day that was a big request, but with the pregnancy, she was also full of hormones that made her oversensitive. The situation required more courage and openness than she thought she had to give, but she'd witnessed their willingness to help and was confident she didn't have to do it alone. Their faith in her made her want to try to reach the potential they saw.

"They won't expect us to stay long tonight, not after the flight and everything,” Michael assured her, kissing her brow. “We'll eat, catch up a little, and then go relax before bed. Trevor's an ass, but I've heard he gives good massages."

"I'll massage that for you too.” He rubbed her bottom with both of his big hands as he made the promise. “You have an excellent ass, babe. It fills my hands nice and firm but with the softest flesh. It makes me want to do all sorts of naughty things you're going to love."

"Okay.” The promise of Trevor's hands skin on skin made her want to forgo dinner, but she shook them off and ran her fingers through her hair to straighten the mess Cody's hands had made. “No more mauling. I'd like to meet your parents while I can still manage a coherent thought."

Michael chuckled and fixed a stray curl, kissing her mouth, Cody and Trevor following suit.

"Boys, quit dragging your feet, supper's ready,” a woman from beyond the door called, assuring them the kitchen occupants knew they were there and probably knew what they were doing.

Cody took his place at her side, and they entered the kitchen. She recognized the moral support in the way he held tight to her hand and she squeezed him back.

The kitchen was large, bright, very warm in temperature and welcoming. A huge island with a dozen stools around it waited with settings ready for the family to take their places. Obviously new, the appliances were shiny, with a huge double oven and stainless steel refrigerator surrounded by beautiful, dark gray granite countertops. The sinks were deep with fussy handles and faucets like the ones Poppy had lusted after during her housing search. The scents of garlic, chicken, vegetables and fresh bread weighed heavily in the air, completing the room.

It should have been a perfect scene. Grandma's kitchen or something like that, but her skin was crawling in discomfort. The heat made her sweat and the smell made her nauseous, reminding her of six months earlier. She'd baked bread that day to keep her mind off the baby she'd lost and stay occupied until she spoke with Steven. He'd offered, very reasonably over tea and bread, to marry her when a healthy baby was born. She'd refused the offer and he'd finished eating before leaving, returning to his ex-wife with a full stomach. After Steven left, her father berated her for hours, but in the end took the bread he'd asked her to wrap up for him.

"Poppy?” She jerked at the sound of Cody's question. The concerned looks the men and their family gave her told her he'd probably asked more than once. “Are you okay, honey?"

"Sorry, tired I guess.” She plastered on a smile to banish the crappy memories she didn't want popping up now or ever. “Something smells wonderful."

"Poppy, this is our mom, Mary,” Michael said, pulling a high stool out for her. “And our dads, Paul, Thomas, and Duane. This is Poppy Maguire."

The resemblance was startling. Mary was about five and a half feet tall, taller than Poppy, and very thin, sickly thin, with perfectly styled hair that attested to the cancer recovery Michael told her about. She had dimples like the boys, and Trevor's dark hair came from her as well. Her smile was genuine, welcoming, and made Poppy hope she wasn't a disappointment to the older woman.

The next three, the fathers, were much like their sons. Paul and Thomas were twins, both with wavy blond hair and nice blue eyes. There were plenty of lines and wrinkles but she couldn't deny that they were fit, handsome older men.

For the most part the boys resembled the twins, she thought. Duane, the doctor, looked older and had more height than any of the others, boys included, with a sparse ring of white hair on his head. He was very thin, almost gaunt, which reminded her of Trevor, but his hand was steady, firm and warm in hers as introductions were made. She offered to help and tried to hide her relief when she was waved to a stool.

Polite conversation wasn't hard. As a nurse she had to talk to people, so she knew how to listen and add situational appropriate dialog. Without Cody, Michael and Trevor, sitting in the kitchen would be torture, but with them beside her, they dulled the instant reaction her body wanted to run from.

The soup was good, the bread warm and chewy, company charming, but she hadn't lied about being tired. She tried to stay polite and interested because she was, but she needed her pain medication. She jerked when Cody's arm settled over her shoulders, startling her from her thoughts and jarring her bandage.

"She's dead on her feet.” The concern in Mary's tone made her force a smile. She didn't want to be pitiful on her first night at the ranch, but it looked unavoidable. “Poor thing. I don't care for traveling, either. We always add a few days to any trip so we can catch up on sleep. You go lie down, sweetie, we've got lots of time to get to know one another."

"It's been a long few days,” Michael said, a picture of efficiency as he quickly helped clear the island with Trevor. “Poppy, Cody will take you to your room so you can relax."

"No, I'll help clean up.” Manners demanded that she make the offer. She could at least clear her place. She stood, maybe too fast.

"Oh, Cody. Catch her!"

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"I've got her,” Cody said calmly, cradling the unconscious Poppy in his arms. “I'll go lay her down."

"Dad—"

"I'm right behind you, son.” Duane was running for his bag before Trevor finished asking.

Cody knew Michael and Trevor wanted to follow, but their mother kept them in the kitchen and out of Duane's way. Their remaining parents would try to keep them busy, but they'd be over soon. Their woman passed out, they couldn't help, and no amount of small talk would distract either of them, though their mother would try.

"How many weeks?” Duane asked and pulled out the stethoscope from the heavy duty toolbox he used for medical emergencies.

"Weeks what?” Cody kept his tone carefully blank, mindful of her request as he watched helplessly.

"Son, I've been a doctor for thirty years, most of those years in a small town. I recognize a pregnant woman when I see one,” Duane replied, deftly checking her breathing and pulse.

"Okay, twenty-one weeks I think. I didn't really understand the math when she tried to explain it, but she said she'd be twenty-two on Tuesday. I thought it would be more like sixteen.” He knew he shouldn't have tried to fool his father. It hadn't worked when he scratched his car at seventeen either. “She caught a bad stomach bug in the hospital and she has two stitches where the bullet grazed her right shoulder, but her doctor said the wound looked good. She's on antibiotics, some light pain killers and nausea medication as needed. It's been needed a lot the last few days."

"Yeah, it's probably just the baby and recovering after being sick. We count the time from the last period to determine gestation in weeks, son, that's why it's different.” Cody had never been more grateful for his father as he continued to explain and examine Poppy. “It's the same way with cows, though I'm sure your mother wouldn't appreciate the comparison so let's leave that between us. Everything sounds good. Ah, she's coming around. Poppy, are you with us, sweetheart?"

"Gonna puke,” she announced, before opening her eyes.

Cody grabbed one of the bowls she'd seen Michael strategically place in both nightstands before they went for dinner. Duane returned after the foul fireworks with water, her pills, and the most wonderfully cool washcloth she'd ever felt.

"Cody, go help your brothers in the kitchen,” Duane said, as he efficiently pumped a blood pressure cuff, something she'd done hundreds of times to other people but hated having done to her.

He looked to her with indecision and she gave him a weak smile and nodded.

"Dad, can you show her the intercom when you're done?"

"Sure, son, now move it.” After the door shut, Cody behind it, Duane turned his attention back to her. “Well, first things first, congratulations."

"Thank you."

"Second thing, is this one of my boys’ or a previous relationship?” Duane asked, not judging like she would expect a father to be, just curious.

"There are twin girls courtesy of a Paraby.” Too exhausted to worry about what he would think of her she lay back and waited for his response.

To her surprise, the grin he wore could have lit the country and for a moment he lost his doctor's demeanor and hugged her tight. “I tried for years to talk Mary into one more baby,” he explained. “I always wanted a little girl, but she was sure we were all throwing boy swimmers and six Paraby men were enough for her. Baby girl, you just punched your ticket in this family. You could cut off all of our right arms and still be golden."

Poppy laughed, but she knew she had to tell him everything before he started building doll houses. “I had a miscarriage six months ago. It was my first pregnancy, and it was spontaneous at almost eleven weeks. My doctor says I'm healthy and progressing well, but it's still on my mind."