Kate flopped down in an Adirondack chair on the back patio, exhausted from playing with her extremely active nieces and nephews, plus East. Dot had four kids, and TJ had two. She was the only one out of her siblings without kids. While sometimes she found herself wishing she had one or two of her own, when she was around her siblings' kids, she was reminded that there were some perks to being childless.
"Here, hold her."
Kate barely had time to lift her hands up before TJ practically dropped his youngest, eleven-month-old Emma, into her lap. Catching her niece, Kate shot her brother a half-hearted frown. It was hard to stay annoyed when Emma fell back against her chest and grabbed her hand to play with her fingers.
"Stop being so cute," Kate scolded her niece without an ounce of force behind her words.
"She literally can't, it's annoying," TJ said with a grin, sitting in the chair beside Kate's. "It makes it really hard to take things away from her."
"See, that's why I'm happy being the fun aunt," Katie said. She toyed with Emma's tiny chubby hand and glanced over at her brother. "I'm still surprised you got leave."
"Yeah...well, Dad has a lot of pull." TJ's smile fell even though she could tell he was trying to pin it in place.
He was in the Navy, but he hadn't gone the fighter pilot route. Instead, he was an intelligence officer, which had gotten him a lot of teasing over the years about being a spy on a jetski. Still, he was well-suited for the actual job.
Neither of them were going to discuss why they thought their father had called them home. That elephant in the room would sit right there if the two younger Kazansky kids had their way at the moment. It was Dot who kept asking. She had been pestering their mother since Kate had gotten into town, and she would bet that Dot had been at it since she herself had arrived, kids and civilian husband Nathan in tow. TJ and his wife Elisa had gotten there a day after Dot, and Kate had just shown up yesterday. And now they were all...
Kate wasn't sure what they were doing.
Emma babbled in her own brand of baby language. Wrapping one arm around her niece, Kate gently blew a breath across Emma's dark brown curls, getting a squealing peal of laughter out of her. Emma took after her mother, with her dark hair, heart-shaped face, light brown skin, and big warm brown eyes. Tommy, TJ's rambunctious four-year-old (3rd of his name), looked more like TJ with green eyes and straight light brown hair.
TJ looked like a carbon copy of their dad in his thirties, except his hair was brown, like their mom's.
"What's for dinner?" Kate asked, reaching for a particularly easy subject. "I thought I saw meatloaf."
"I think we're grilling," TJ said. "That was for the hamburgers."
"That works, probably the easiest way to feed the troops." She smiled a little as she looked at the small horde of children in the yard. Dot's thirteen-year-old twins Nora and Mason were playing frisbee while ten-year-old Perry sat against a tree, reading. Tommy kept trying to steal the frisbee and run away while Dot's six-year-old Sarah (or as the family called her, Sassy) attempted to boss him into playing "Café." East was tearing around, not sure who needed the most attention. Normally, Tom Kazansky would've been out here, tackling his grandchildren or getting them organized into a game of whiffleball, but he was napping at the moment.
Out beyond the expansive, well-kept yard, the sun was setting over the bay, white-gold light glittering across the sea. Out of all the places her parents had been lived over the years, Kate loved this one the most. It had been the one they had bought when her dad had become the Commander of the US Pacific Fleet, and it was supposed to be the final house, the one for retirement. Hence the huge backyard for all the grandkids and all the bedrooms and huge kitchen and the feeling of solid permanence.
The back door opened, and Dot poked her head out. "What're you two doing?"
"Supervising," TJ answered, leaning back in the chair, hands going behind his head.
"Nothing," Kate said simply.
Emma added her own two cents in baby language.
Dot stepped partially outside, one hand on her hip as she surveyed the scene. She seemed mildly surprised that no one was injured and that no fights had broken out. That was her default, basically assuming that the world would fall apart if she wasn't managing it. Kate loved her older sister, but her obsession with control and orderliness always made her head hurt. "Does someone doing nothing want to volunteer? Give us a hand in the kitchen?"
"I'm actually holding the baby," Kate said, giving Emma a little bounce.
"The grand supervisor can take the baby, seeing how she's his," Dot said. "Nathan's at the store, and Elisa is working, so you're being volunteered, Kate."
"I don't think that's how volunteering works," Kate said with a long drawn-out sigh even as she stood up.
"Yeah, Dot, it's called volun-told," TJ said. He took Emma as Kate held the baby out to him.
"Whatever it is, Mom and I need help," Dot said, stepping back inside, obviously expecting Kate to follow since she held the door open. "And Kate's the one who said she wasn't doing anything."
"Teach me." Kate rolled her eyes and headed after Dot.
The inside of the Kazansky home smelled like the ocean breeze, clean laundry, and chamomile, her mom's favorite tea. To Kate, it smelled like home. No matter where they had moved throughout her childhood, it seemed like those scents seeped into the walls.
Kate stepped into the monstrously large, decked out kitchen with its double stoves, massive fridge, and every appliance her mother could ever want. Sarah Kazansky was standing in front of the huge marble-topped kitchen island, shaping hamburger patties.
And, to Kate's surprise, her dad was sitting at the kitchen table, his laptop out in front of him. It looked like he had just settled there since the laptop was still booting up.
"I thought you were napping," Kate said, light admonishment in her voice as she narrowed her eyes at him.
Her dad waved a hand at her, brushing away her concerns, and he offered a strained yet somehow still cheeky smile. Pulling out his phone, he typed away and then an AI voice spoke for him. "Last time I checked, I was the parent." Funnily enough, the AI was strongly Australian.
"Wow, mature, Dad," Kate said, though it made the corner of her mouth quirk up.
"G'day, mate," her mom teased in her own terrible interpretation of an Australian accent, looking up from the patties, "Y'going out to the outback?"
Tom frowned at his phone and then typed again. "Mason changed the voice. How do I get it back?"
"Ooo, that boy," Dot said, frowning, "I'll jerk a knot in him. Here, give it to me, Dad."
"He's just a kid," her dad typed, "And it's a little funny."
"Mase thinks everything's funny," Dot said as she took the phone. "Thirteen year olds..."
Before jumping into cooking, Kate walked over and kissed her dad on the temple. "Everything good?"
He patted her arm and nodded, but there was pain in his eyes. That icy feeling that had been sitting heavy in her chest grew another inch, and her smile was fragile. "Okay..."
Kate helped her mom and sister fix dinner while her dad worked on his laptop and phone, probably answering a million emails and texts from all over the globe. The man rarely stopped working. Once Dot's husband Nathan got back from the store, he joined in on the cooking, taking the patties and chicken and hotdogs out to the grill.
They were in the middle of setting up the bar with all the fixings and plates when the doorbell rang. Dot bumped her hip into Kate's. "Go get it."
Kate held up her hands and the lettuce she was tearing up. "You go get it."
Dot lifted the knife she was using to cut onions. "I'm working."
"What do you call what I'm doing?"
"I'll get it," their mom said, cleaning off her hands, "Don't start a fight."
"In their nature," came their dad's computerized reply.
Sarah rolled her eyes and left the kitchen. A moment later, they heard her happily exclaiming and welcoming someone inside.
"Look who's here just in time for dinner," she said, pulling Rooster into the kitchen by his wrist, like he was still a kid who stayed at her place during some vacations.
Kate was instantly aware that Rooster was in a mood, though her mom was probably ignoring it. She tilted her head to the side, a 'what's wrong' clear in her eyes. His hazel-brown gaze was stormy and he locked onto her for a split second, nostrils flaring, before zeroing a glare in on her dad. His expression changed a second later to shock, and Kate had to look away.
That's how everyone looked when they saw her dad now. Shocked. Like they couldn't believe that he was Tom Kazansky. Not when he looked so tired and in pain, no matter the façade he put up.
"Um, I actually just came by to speak with Mr. Tom," Bradley said, hovering in the doorway. His gaze jumped back to Kate and widened, speaking without words, expressing his surprise. She should've told him more, at least let him know that her dad was mostly communicating through his phone or computer right now. Kate ripped another piece of lettuce off and tossed it into the bowl.
"We'll talk, kid, but you're staying for dinner," the phone AI, now with an American accent, announced.
"You can talk after dinner," Dot said, shooting Bradley a frown.
"Before is better," their dad typed. "Trust me."
Kate wasn't sure what was going on, but Rooster looked absolutely torn, like he couldn't decide whether to stay mad or be worried. Maybe both?
Her dad stood up, and Kate jerked forward a half-step, grabbing the counter to keep herself from hurrying to his side. He would be annoyed if she tried to help him stand up.
Tom made his way out of the kitchen, half-shuffling, and for a second, Kate saw Rooster's hand drift toward her dad's elbow as he passed by, like he also felt the need to help. His hand jerked back. Sarah reached out and squeezed his upper arm.
"It's okay," she said quietly enough that Tom wouldn't hear, but Kate overheard. "But don't be too mad at him. He had good reasons for his decisions. This time."
"He could've told me," Rooster said, gently pulling away. "That would've been nice."
Sarah gave him a little push out of the kitchen. "Go on and talk to him. Then you're staying for dinner. No arguing, Bradley."
Once he left, Kate and Dot both looked at their mother, the silent question sliding into the kitchen. Sarah smiled and clapped her hands together. "Maverick's in town. And he's instructing Bradley's class, so you can imagine how that's going."
Both sisters' mouths fell open.
"You're not serious," Kate said, pausing with a little piece of lettuce partially torn. "And he didn't tell either of them?"
"Did he totally forget about the Christmas Incident?" Dot asked, staring.
"No one could forget that Christmas," Kate said, shaking her head. The Christmas where both Mav and Bradley had been invited, just about five years ago, and Bradley spent the entire evening ignoring the hell out of Maverick. It had been so incredibly awkward.
"I thought we decided to not try to force it?" she added, frowning at her mom.
Sarah's smile turned tense and then tired. "It needed to happen," she said, heading back over to the island. "Now, let's finish setting everything out. Dot, can you tell Nathan we're about ready?"
Well, this was a turn of events. Kate adored Maverick, but she also saw Bradley's side of things. And she couldn't believe her dad hadn't at least warned either of them.
Or maybe she could. She roughly tossed a few leaves of lettuce into the bowl. Things were weird now. Why not spring a forced family reunion on Maverick and Rooster. Maybe they'd learn to work through their issues.
Or pigs would fly, it was an either/or kind of situation.