Texas Vows: A McCabe Family Saga

“That would be great, Lewis.” Kate smiled. “Thank you.”

She was nearly finished cleaning up the kitchen when Sam walked in. Doing her best to hide the discouragement she felt about the way things were going thus far, she said, “I made up a plate for you.”

As he opened the refrigerator door, Sam gave the food a dismissive glance. “I’ll get it later.” He took out a cold beer and a single serving of string cheese. “I just put Help Wanted ads in all the major Texas newspapers.”

Kate closed the dishwasher and tried not to think how easily his six-foot-four frame dwarfed her own five-foot-seven inches. She tilted her head, studying him. “You’re not going through an agency this time?”

Sam shook his head, his dark eyes grim. “Been there, done that,” he said, sounding exhausted.

“In other words, you’ve been blacklisted.”

“Something like that, yeah,” he said dryly.

“Doesn’t surprise me.”

Tensing visibly from head to toe, Sam twisted off the beer cap, and tossed it into the trash. “Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because the three older boys are just a tad hostile,” Kate said sweetly. And so are you.

“I thought they liked you,” he remarked.

That was the irony of it, Kate admitted reluctantly. She and the boys had started off fine…at the hospital. Had Sam only consented to bring them there for group counseling, she and the kids might still be communicating fine. But he hadn’t. She’d had to go to them. Invade what was essentially hostile territory. As a result they’d gone so far backward in the trust department it was going to take days to recover lost ground. This could have been avoided, had Sam welcomed her into their home and their lives, or even given his boys the slightest hint he thought she might be able to help them deal with losing Ellie. Instead, he had worked to make things that much worse, and succeeded.

Aware Sam was still waiting for an explanation, Kate struggled to contain her frustration. She knew she had come on strong, but it had been necessary. The boys needed to know they couldn’t walk all over her the way they had their previous housekeepers. They had to know that even though their mother was gone, there were still rules.

“I think they did like me until I tried to come in and take Ellie’s place.”

Sam’s expression hardened as he took a swig of beer. “No one can do that,” he warned grimly. “However, I will find someone who can run the house.”

“And until then?” Kate challenged, knowing, even if Sam didn’t, the boys needed much more than clean clothes, good food and a tidy environment to get over the loss of their mom.

Sam glared at her and took another long drink. “What’s your point?”

Finding it awkward to talk about something so intimate when he was standing all the way across the kitchen, Kate stepped toward him and lowered her voice. “When was the last time you and the boys did something together as a family, Sam?”

“I don’t know.” Resentment glimmered in his eyes. “Why?”

“Are you telling me it was so long ago you can’t remember?”

“I’m not telling you anything,” Sam said stonily, pushing away from her, “except to mind your own business.”

“So we can’t even talk about the boys?”

He straightened, towering over her, intimidating her with his height and weight and strength. “You got that right.”

“What about Ellie?” Kate persisted, deliberately pushing his buttons, to bring his emotions closer to the surface. She edged closer, mimicking his kick-butt stance. “Are we allowed to talk about her?”

“Ellie’s gone, Kate,” Sam said, the edgy expression on his face intense. “No amount of talking is going to bring her back.”

No wonder the family was such a wreck, Kate thought on a beleaguered sigh. Not only had they all suffered a major loss, they were following Sam’s lead and keeping all their grief locked deep inside.

Sam took a long drink of his beer. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, letting her know with a glance they were changing the subject—now. “I have to be out of here early tomorrow.”

Kate ignored the curtness of his voice and the feeling that he didn’t want her—or any other woman—in his house any more than his three older sons did. It wouldn’t be easy living in such a hostile environment, even for a few days. “How early?” she asked.

“4:00 a.m.”

Kate waited, but to her mounting frustration no explanation was forthcoming. Was this typical of his schedule? she wondered, as she turned and headed back to the sink. Something being enacted just for her behalf? Part of the “test” he was expecting her to fail? Or a once-in-a-while occurrence? He gave her no clue. Because he seemed to be expecting some reaction from her, she utilized the most professional response that came to mind. “Do you want me to get up and cook breakfast for you?” Is that what he wanted from her?

Sam did a double take. Obviously not the reaction he had been looking for. “No,” Sam said as he helped himself to some whole wheat crackers.

So you’re not going to make this easy on me, either, Kate thought as she fished the dishrag out of the sudsy water and wrung it out with both hands. “When do the boys get up in the morning?” she asked as she began to wipe down the kitchen table.

Still ignoring the dinner plate she’d made for him, Sam polished off the crackers, drained the rest of his beer, and reached for another long-necked brown bottle. “Generally, the older four sleep as late as they can, since it’s summer, although that will change starting this week when their extracurricular activities kick into full pre-season throttle with daily rehearsals and stuff. Kev gets up around seven-thirty—like clockwork.”

“I’ll set my alarm for six, then,” Kate promised, briskly wiping down the already-wiped black granite countertops. Finished, she flipped the cloth back into the sink and wiped her hands on a towel. “If Kev needs me before that, wakes with a bad dream or something, and you’re already gone, will he know to come to me?”

“I’ll tell him when I tuck him in.” Sam paused to twist open his second beer. “As for tomorrow specifically, I don’t know what any of the boys has on the agenda. Although Will may have said something about an early football practice….”

“I’ll find out and handle it,” Kate promised.

Sam lapsed into a brooding silence. Kate looked into his face and read his unease. Odds were he was thinking about her inexperience in the homemaking arena, worried she couldn’t handle his crew. She’d prove him wrong if it was the last thing she did. And once she conquered that, she’d win his confidence as a professional therapist and start to work on their grief.

LATE SUNDAY EVENING while Mike was over at the high school working on the physical training program and practice schedule for the entire season, Joyce Marten spread sample styles of wedding invitations across her dining-room table.

She was determined Kate would have the most perfect wedding Laramie, Texas, had ever seen. She had promised Kate that she and Kate’s father would “take care of everything,” from the invitations to the reception. She didn’t want her daughter worrying about anything during what should be the happiest time of her life. Joyce knew what it was like to have parents who weren’t the least bit interested in their child’s life.

Joyce had grown up in a chaotic, two-career household where the only thing that could be absolutely counted on was the constant bickering between her two very strong-willed, domestically disinclined parents. Early on, Joyce had decided she was not going to let that happen in her own adult life. When she married Mike and had his children, she made homemaking—instead of an outside career—her priority, ensuring their home was a cozy, warm and welcoming place where hot meals and clean sheets were to be counted on. She did whatever she needed to do to keep the peace between Mike and herself and the kids. It wasn’t easy, given Mike’s overprotective attitude where his kids were concerned. He felt he knew what was best for them in every situation and no one was going to tell him any different.

But Joyce had managed just fine, keeping everyone happy and healthy and reasonably content, until the summer before Pete’s senior year of high school. Then, for reasons she still didn’t completely understand, everything had fallen apart. Tension between Pete and Mike escalated day by day until Pete’s death. And Joyce had been powerless to stop it.

She saw the same potential for family conflict arising from Kate’s involvement with Sam McCabe and his boys. Mike still resented Sam for his role in Pete’s death. He felt, more than anyone, that Sam had had the potential to prevent the accident, and hadn’t. In Mike’s mind, Sam was part of the reason Pete had died, and the last thing Mike wanted was Kate under Sam’s roof, even temporarily.

But how to get Kate out of there without causing a rift between herself and Kate, Joyce didn’t know. Especially since Kate was every bit as headstrong as her father. She couldn’t just tell Kate not to do it. Mike had already tried that and it hadn’t worked. And now Kate was, if not angry at her father, at least very exasperated and upset with him. Joyce couldn’t get Mike to change his attitude, either. If she even tried, they would end up having an argument. So here she was, Joyce thought, powerless and caught in the middle again. And all this with Kate’s wedding coming up….

Outside, Joyce heard a door slam. Seconds later Mike strode in the back door. “I drove by Sam McCabe’s place on the way home,” he reported gruffly, coming into the dining room where she was working. “Kate’s car is parked out front.”

Joyce put down a lovely ivory parchment invitation with a filigreed gold leaf design. “I don’t know why you’re surprised about that,” she said gently. “Kate told us this afternoon she was going to do this, whether we approved of her actions or not.”

Mike sat at the table, opposite Joyce. “I was hoping she would change her mind when she found out how much we both disapproved of what she’s doing. Failing that, I hoped Craig would be able to talk her out of it.” Mike shook his head disparagingly. “What’s wrong with that boy, anyway?”

The last thing Joyce wanted was for Mike to find fault with Craig who, up to now, anyway, had been very high on Mike’s approval list. “I’m sure he just trusts her judgment,” Joyce said gently as she picked up a pale blue invitation with embossed wedding bells on the front and navy ink.

“There’s a difference between trusting your woman and handing her over to another man,” Mike replied sagely.

Joyce paused to give Mike a level look. “Craig is not handing her over to Sam.”

Mike took off his coach’s cap and set it on the table. “He may as well be.”