Family Ties

”

“The girls were organizing a search party,” Jim said to Danny.

“Right. I was just giving Paul a head start on meeting everyone.”

“So we like him?” Jim said.

“Way more than the last one.” Danny glanced at me. “Sorry to keep bringing him up, but he made an impression.”

of this is Birdy’s?”

“How’d you know?” Danny joked.

I pulled out my backpack and suitcase.

“Come on, dude,” Jim said to his brother, “let’s haul these inside.”

They each took a large suitcase and a smaller one.

Danny grinned at me. “Last chance to bail.”

“Are you kidding? I made it this far, didn’t I?”

“I see what you mean,” Jim said to Danny. He smiled at me. “All right.

Let’s go meet the family.”

I followed them inside, where a gaggle of pre-teen girls were waiting for us. They were brimming with curiosity but fell silent at the sight of me.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m Paul.”

“We know,” the oldest said. “You’re Aunt Birdy’s boyfriend.”

“That’s the rumor. And you’re… Virginia?” Christy had told me about her nieces and nephews on the flight, and I’d done my best to memorize everyone’s names and ages.

She smiled prettily.

Christy moved next to me.

“And I bet you’re Amber,” I said to the next-oldest girl.

“Uh-huh. And that’s Rose and Grace.”

Grace was small and very shy, with sun-gold hair and eyes like Christy’s, while the others had sandy brown hair and darker blue eyes.

“Grace is mine,” Jim said to me. “The rest are Harry’s girls.” He tossed his chin toward the door and said to Danny, “Come on. These weigh a ton.

Let’s take ’em back.”

“Let’s go, girls,” Danny said to the gaggle. “Sabrina promised to show you her latest magazines.”

He and Jim disappeared deeper into the house with the girls in tow.

Christy gestured to her parents, so I set down my bags.

“Mom, Dad,” she said, “this is Paul. Paul, meet my mom and dad.”

Her father was an older version of Jim, heavier but still compact, about my height, with dark hair going gray at the temples. Something about him piqued my interest, a sort of buzzing vitality that age hadn’t diminished. He extended a hand.

“Harold Carmichael,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”

I shook his hand firmly and met his eyes, ice blue like Christy’s. “Nice to meet you, s— Mr. Carmichael.”

Christy’s mother was an inch shorter but a few pounds heavier than her daughter. She had blonde hair going slightly gray and eyes the same blue as Jim and Danny’s. She was a small, elegant woman who’d probably been pretty as a girl, but had grown into her beauty as she’d aged. She smiled warmly.

“I’m Anne. Nice to finally meet you, Paul,” she said. “Christine’s told us so much about you.”

“She’s the only one who calls me that,” Christy whispered up at me.

“Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Carmichael.”

“Thank you, dear, but call me Anne.”

“Okay, Anne. Nice to meet you. Thanks for inviting me to your lovely home.”

“You’re more than welcome. Have you eaten?”

“We had dinner on the plane,” Christy said, “but…”

“You’re hungry again? I’m a bit peckish myself. Why don’t you show Paul where he’ll sleep and then we’ll have a snack.” She smiled at me. “You can take your things through there. I hope you don’t mind the porch. We’re a bit cramped for space. The weather here never gets very cold, though, and it’s actually quite nice out there.”

“Danny said it’s fine,” I fibbed. I picked up my bags and took them out to the porch.

Christy followed and pulled the door closed to give us a moment of privacy.

The screen porch was fairly large, with comfy-looking wicker furniture.

The longer couch was made up as a bed. Danny’s suitcase sat atop it. My

“bed” was a military cot, the old style with a wooden frame. Anne (or someone) had made it up with sheets, a couple of blankets, and a pillow.

She’d even turned down the covers for me.

She moistened her lips and slowly opened her eyes. “I was chattering,

“Mmm hmm. Relax. I’ll be fine. Yeah, I’m a bit nervous, but your family has been super nice so far.”

“Okay. I’m just worried about my dad. He’s…”

“You’re his only daughter,” I said. “I get it. I’ll do fine.”

She nodded and then smiled up at me shyly. “Will you kiss me again?”

I was happy to. “Better?”

“Good. Now, we should get back inside before they figure out what we’re up to.”

“I hope you like your bunk,” her father said. “It isn’t a five-star hotel, but it’s clean and dry.”

“It’s very nice, sir. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir,’” he said automatically. “I’m just Harold at home. Would you like a drink?”

“Why don’t we step into my office.”

Both Christy and her mother looked at us, Christy with surprise and worry, her mother with forbearance.