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“Yup. Growing up, there were nine McCulloughs so they needed a lot of space. Now, they’re all moved out and multiplying like rabbits.”
“How many are going to be here tonight?”
“Probably most of them.”
“Right.” He’d tallied them up for her on his fingers and toes that morning, losing count somewhere in the thirties.
“You ready?”
She couldn’t move. Her brain told her hand to open the door, but the truck, which had been her most recent nightmare, now seemed her only sanctuary.
“Maggie?”
“I’m thinking.” Mostly about how she could get out of this. “How many of them know about me?”
“My parents, my brother Pat, but he won’t be there. Then there’s Kelly, Luke, and Tristan.”
That left twenty-five or so introductions.
He took her hand and rubbed it with his. “I know it seems like a lot, but most of them are kids.”
That helped. “I can do kids.”
“See? We’ve got this.”
Her stare moved over all the cars and spotted a group of small children pushing each other on a tire swing in the distance. She counted six little bodies.
A large red barn stood on the other end of a wide field beside a colonial style stone house. “Who lives there?”
“That’s Luke and Tristan’s place. And here comes my cousin Sheilagh and her husband. Come on. I’ll introduce you.”
A strange mix of dread and comfort spike through her at the sight of her therapist. Alec Devereux had an incredible calming effect over her, but this wasn’t the time or place for them to discuss her emotional inadequacies the way they usually did. Here, they had to act like strangers, which was weird.
She’d met Sheilagh McCullough, Alec’s wife, at the bar on St. Patrick’s Day. The same day she met Sammy McCullough. Would they remember her?
Ryan opened her door and helped her down. He took her hand, and she clenched his fingers in a tight clammy grip. They rounded the truck, and she braced for awkwardness.
“Hey guys, this is my girlfriend, Maggie. Maggie, this is Sheilagh and her husband Alec. Where’s Alexia?”
“Luke’s getting gum out of her hair. Don’t ask. I think we’ve met.” Sheliagh’s smile was welcoming. “At O’Malley’s, right?”
Maggie nodded. “Right.” Her gaze shifted to Alec who stood a foot taller than his wife.
“It’s nice of you to join us,” he said, giving no clue to the others that they knew each other.
She smiled nervously. Neither she nor Alec claimed it was nice to meet, since they already knew each other fairly well.
They climbed the grand wooden steps to the porch, and Sheilagh walked right in, so they followed. Ryan was tackled by children, before he fully made it across the threshold.
“He’s quite popular with the kids. Sort of the fun uncle,” Alec commented, hanging back until the mob broke up.
She glanced at him, expressing her nervousness with her eyes but not having the courage to say a word.
He seemed to understand. “I find, at family functions, whiskey works wonders. Maureen keeps it under the sink next to the Windex. I’ll join you.”
Ryan rose from a pile of clinging children like a sea monster dredging to the banks of salvation. A rosy-cheeked blond boy wreathed his arms around his neck and refused to let go.
Ryan faced Maggie with a smile and gave the boy a squeeze, hoisting him onto his hip. “This is Lennon, my cousin Braydon’s youngest.”
“Who are you?” The little boy waved.
“I’m Maggie.”
“Do you have candy?”
Why hadn’t she thought to bring candy? Probably because kids weren’t supposed to take candy from strangers. “I’m sorry I don’t.”
His big blue eyes flashed with betrayal. “Next time you bring some?”
She nodded. “I promise.” How could anyone resist those eyes?
Ryan set the boy down and told him to go play with the other children. Voices rose from the kitchen in a cacophony of sound that was too chaotic to translate. They entered the room, and Maggie stared wide-eyed.
Men gathered around the table talking and shouting from one end to the next. Children raced from the hall, through the kitchen, and into the dining room. Women lined up at the counter from adolescents to a very tiny black haired woman who looked about a hundred. In the corner, another ancient woman sat, unphased by all the pandemonium around her.
Pots steamed and dishes clattered as ingredients passed back and forth, and people called for distinct items like salt or scallions. The room was ten degrees hotter than the rest of the house. It looked more like a soup kitchen than any family scene she recalled from her home growing up.
“You made it.” A man with golden brown hair slapped Ryan on the back.
“Yeah, I figured I stayed away long enough. Finn, this is Maggie.”
She smiled. “You’re one of the twins, right?” If she remembered correctly, he also ran the lumberyard with Ryan.
“Right. I’m the handsome one.”
A woman screamed, startling her, and before Maggie could fully process what was happening, she was being strangled in a bear hug.
