A knowing grin stretched. “Is that Donovan's Delicacy?”
“I hope I got all of the pieces right. Everyone should have their favorites on Thanksgiving.”
He lifted the coffee and pressed a light kiss to her temple. “I hope Joey and Mac haven't moved to the living room to sleep through football. We haven't had this since mom died.”
She carried the heavy glass bowl into the dining room, assaulted with the rising volume of conversation. Her heart warmed at the delight she could see in satisfied customers.
“Maggie, these desserts are out of this world.” Millie patted her barely burgeoning stomach. “Little Champ is doing somersaults in there over these raspberry shortbread numbers and these stupid good, lemon curd macaroons. Maybe he'll be a gymnast?”
Jason's face went pale. “No son of mine will be a gymnast. Wrestler, maybe. Hockey player, no doubt. Football player, could work? Lacrosse is a given. But gymnastâ¦nope.” He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and stared at Maggie with a glare that was intended to strike fear in the best goal-scorers in the NHL.
Maggie laughed. “Well, I don't think a dessert can dictate the athletic prowess of a baby. So, I think your son's future endeavors are safe from my malicious macaroons.” She set the tureen in the center of the table. Taking a quick step back, she waited.
Mac dropped his spoon with a clink against his plate. Joey slammed the front two legs of his chair on the ground with a thud.
But it was Bitsy who spoke first. “Is that what I think it is?” Her voice was a soft whisper.
“Donovan's Delicacy⦔ Joey said in a hushed, barely audible voice.
Mac squinted and tilted his head to the left, a mirror image of Gordie, who sat at his feet begging for scraps. “But I thought you'd never heard of it before last night?”
“I looked through a bunch of recipes on the internet and some of your mom's old cookbooks that Sean lent me. I think I pieced it together. You'll have to taste it and see.”
Lindy draped his arm over Jane's chair and pulled her close to him. “What's Donovan's Delicacy?”
“The guys' mom used to make it every year for Thanksgiving. It was a big tradition. When Joe was really good, which wasn't very often, she would make it for his birthday. I haven't had it since a year before she got sick.” She looked to Maggie. “Unbelievable,” her voice dropped to a murmur.
Tears slid down Bitsy's cheeks.
Molly laid her head on Jake's shoulder.
Henry rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand.
And both of Sean's brothers rubbed their necks.
Maggie could feel the blush burn to her cheeks as Sean pulled her tight to his side. “I don't think I've ever seen this group so quiet. You did good, kid.”
“I didn't mean to upset everyone.”
Bitsy stood and cupped Maggie's cheeks in her perfectly manicured hands. “Maggie, you didn't upset any of us. You have given us a great gift. It's as if Lorraine is here with us today. Thank you.”
“But we don't even know if it is any good.”
Joey swiped a plate from the sideboard. “No time like the present to find out.” He drove the serving spoon down the side of the tureen and scooped out bits of each layer. He lifted a spoon and shoveled a man-size bite into his mouth.
Maggie's breath caught.
Joey's eyes fluttered open. “Well, we definitely made the right decision renting Mom's space. This is as good as hers. The only thing you are missing is actually being Lorraine Taylor. I think the woman had some sort of magic ingredient in her fingers. Other than that, it's perfect.” He took another giant bite.
Maggieâs heart flipped. She did it. She made another Taylor brother like her. She clasped her hands to stop from shoving a plate in front of Mac.
“Well, if Joey approves it must be terrific.” Mac spooned some onto a plate. “No one liked Donovan's Delicacy as much as Sprout.” He took a bite and nodded his head. “Pretty awesome, Maggie. Thank you.”
She took a seat on the window ledge, but inside she was in a valley at the base of the Austrian Alps, singing a high C with her arms spread wide, twirling to her heart's content.
Sean handed her a cup of coffee that she sipped, watching the tureen dwindle to a few spoonfuls. Her heart swam as she listened to the mmm's and oh my's from the group. The lack of sleep and countless websites cross-referenced with a half-dozen cookbooks was all worth it for that sound. Better than fifteen curtain calls.
Mac leaned back in his chair and rubbed his belly. “I couldn't bear another bite seven bites ago, but it was too good to leave any.” He chuckled. “So we know you are a master pastry chef and you clearly love my brotherânot sure whyâwhat other secret talents do you have hidden in that tiny frame of yours, Miss McKitrick?”
“Nothing really. Just a baker.”
Sean rested his arm across her lap. “Maggie, that's not entirely true. You've got a wicked set of pipes packed away in there.”
“Yelling at you is not a talent,” she said. The room collectively chuckled, but her stomach burned at the thought of singing. That was Mary Margaret, the girl she left behind in Maryland. The piece she kept buried deep inside. Singing couldn't be a part of who she was, not if she wanted to keep everyone she was coming to love safe.
“You are good at yelling, but I meant that angel voice trapped inside of that pint-sized body.” He tapped her thigh, focusing his attention on the table. “A few weeks ago I was out for an early run and the light was on in the shop. I stopped and was treated to the most beautiful singing I've ever heard.”
Joey shoved his plate to the middle of the table. “I brought my guitar.”
Before she was able to utter a protest, he disappeared into the living room.
Maggie swallowed the fear rising in her throat. “I don't know⦔
Millie snorted. “You might as well just sing one song. Once Joey starts playing, he'll make everyone join in. Someone told him when he was eight or nine that all girls love guitar players, and he hasn't stopped playing since.”
“He played in the praise band all through high school, the whole time trying to figure out how he could hook-up with the lead singer.” Sean chuckled. “Not really sure if any of the Jesus message sank in, but the I'm-in-a-band mentality definitely translated to his baseball persona.”
Joey ambled into the dining room with his acoustic guitar in one hand and a stool in the other. “Come on Mags, let's see what you've got in that teensy body of yours.” He settled on the stool and tuned the guitar as both Chelsea and Lizzie began peppering him with questions, lobbying to sing songs of their own.
“Sean, I really don't want to sing,” Maggie whispered as she leaned into Sean. “I haven't done it in front of people in a very long time.”
He kissed her forehead. “I think you should try. Somethingâ¦something, I hope you will tell me about someday, has kept you from sharing the gift God gave you. You can't let someone steal it from you. Your gifts and using them are directly attuned with the joy you have. It's like baking a cake. God gave you the ability to make people super happy with one bite of your Chewy-Chocolate Turtle cake. Think of the joy you receive each time someone tastes that cake for the first time. You don't believe God wants your joy to diminish because you are afraid to share another precious gift, do you?”
She couldn't argue with him. For years, she'd buried her music. The time was here to start taking her life back. One step at a time. She moved to Joey.
He was patiently answering the girls' questions.
She leaned down and whispered in his ear.
He nodded and started strumming the opening.
Maggie closed her eyes, let out a deep breath and opened her mouth. The music flowed, starting at her toes and winding up and past her lips. She could feel God in the melody. And His smile warmed her soul. The words floated over her lips and she felt transported. She wasn't entertaining. She was worshipping.
Oh the love! The peace. The joy. All of it.
Here in this dining room. For the first time in years, she felt God's presence flow through her in a way that was only possible through complete and open worship. For Maggie, the only way to be fully open to the Spirit was through music, something she'd denied herself for so long. The words to the song rang true in a way no other praise song ever had. She prayed as she sang. With the final bars, she opened her eyes and could feel the soppy wetness of tears splashing down her cheeks. Her breath came in spurts as she looked around the room.
Everyone had tears.
Even Joey.
“I want to clap, butâ¦and don't be offended by this, Mags,” Millie started. “Not for you. For God. That was amazing.”
All of the adult heads nodded in unison.
Henry reached back and squeezed her hand. He nodded his head. “Your daddy would be proud of you, Maggie-girl. Beaming like a lighthouse. I just know it.”
The tears flooded her eyes. She launched herself at Henry and received the fatherly hug she desperately needed. She kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
He patted her back. “Just speaking truth. Just speaking truth.”
She swiped away the tears. “Sorry. I didn't mean to make everyone cry.”
“Oh, don't worry about that.” Bitsy waved her hands. “Tears are just the Holy Spirit spilling out. Cleanses the soul. Now let's start to clean this mess up. We can visit more over coffee in the living room. Jane. Molly. Help me get these dishes. Leave the Donovan's Delicacy for the boys to munch on.”
The sisters stood and began clearing plates and cups with the ease of years of experience.
Maggie stacked her unused plate with Sean's.
Molly looked over her shoulder. “You better sit back down, missy. You've been working all day and I'm guessing non-stop the last few weeks to make this about as special a day as possible. You deserve to sit back and enjoy a little rest.”
“Oh, but I can help. I like to stay busy.”
Jane lifted the plates from Maggie's grasp. “You can help by taking that new carafe of coffee into the living room and entertain the men and Millie.”
The men started to mosey into the living room with chatter about the OSUâMichigan football game the coming Saturday.
The little girls chased behind them, nipping at Joey to play more music.
The room tilted slightly and Maggie closed her eyes against a wave of nausea.
Football games. Thanksgiving. Loud kids. It was normal. Normal family. Normal chatter. Normal life. She longed for moments just like this one for the last ten years. Times of laughing and simply enjoying the pleasure of company. She sucked in a deep breath and walked into the living room.
Starting todayâtonightâshe would take her whole life back.
She wanted this life. These moments. This family. These friends. Forever. And she wasn't going to let the devilâor anyone elseâtake anything precious from her. Not ever again. The last ten years of her life were enough.
Today she started fighting back.
17
Sean held the door open with his foot while Maggie swept in carrying a basket filled with leftovers in tidy to-go packages.
“I think Bitsy believes I don't know how to cook real food. Each one of these containers has heating instructions on it with how to create a new meal out of the leftovers.” She dropped the basket on the counter with a thud.
Sean carried one of the coolers filled with dirty dishes she'd refused to allow Bitsy and company to scrub clean. “She was probably thinking that I would take at least half the leftovers and she knows I can't turn on the microwave without thinking twice. She's been my surrogate mother for a really long time.” He set the cooler on the floor and rubbed his shoulder. “Explain to me again why we lugged all of those dishes that belong to the shop up three flights of stairs to your apartment so you could wash them? And why you didn't just allow Bits to wash them for you?”
She dragged the container toward the dishwasher. “Number one, Jenna is working tomorrow and I don't want her to face a pile of dirty dishes before the doors are even unlocked. Number two, I didn't want to wait downstairs for the dishes to run through the commercial dishwasher. It takes forever for it to warm up. I'm not comfortable having it run without someone there, just in case. Number three, I thought it would be easier to just run the dishes through my dishwasher tonight while I slept. And number four, Bitsy, Jane, and Molly worked way too hard on creating a lovely dinner. They didn't need to do dishes that I would just have to wash again for health code reasons. At least if I run them through the first time up here I'm not wasting anyone's time.”
“Woman's wisdom. Too hard to argue.” He kissed her temple, and then took the two steps to plop on her loveseat. “You know, it's times like now when it would be a good to have a TV. I could mindlessly flip channels while my little woman slaves away in the kitchen.”
She threw a dishtowel that wrapped around his head. “Watch it, Chief. I may be small, but I'm no one's little anything. Got it?”
He twisted and rested his chin on the back of the sofa, the tug of a grin at his lips. “Got it. Just don't throw anything heavy at me. You've got excellent aim.”
“Deal.” She loaded the dishwasher in minutes, filled the dispenser, set the washer to its highest heat setting, and closed the door. Her stomach rolled. She'd been preparing different speeches in her head all afternoon. Ways to explain to Sean who she was, why she'd lied. But every path she'd taken ended with him bolting out the door and never talking to her again. The worst version had him evicting her from the bakery and her apartment.
He loved her. But could he possibly love all of her? Could he love Mary Margaret, too?
~*~
Maggie loaded the dishwasher, her movements efficient and almost tight. Something had been weighing on her mind since dinner. The cop in him could feel her wheels turning from a mile away. Sean wasn't only a trained police investigator, he was a man in love. He didn't want her to have to carry this burden alone anymore. He wanted her to trust him. But he didn't want to do anything that would cause her to run.