couldn’t face it.
Inside the cozy theater, Jenny shrugged out of her coat and headed for the rehearsal hall, which echoed with childish squeals and laughter and the occasional snatches of applause. She walked into the room just as silence fell. A sea of rapt young faces stared at Bree, her dark red hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, curls lit with sparkling highlights escaping around her pale-as-porcelain face. Though she was in her thirties, she looked younger.
“And once again the whole town felt the magic of the season,” Bree concluded with a dramatic flourish.
The children, many of whom Jenny recognized as the newest generation of O’Briens, applauded enthusiastically. A smile split Bree’s face at their exuberance, then widened when she spotted Jenny at the back of the room. She jumped up, leaving two young women in charge of the energetic children, and ran to embrace Jenny. When the women waved, Jenny realized with a sense of shock that they were Bree’s sister Abby’s twin daughters.
“Welcome home!” Bree said, enveloping her in a hug.
“Thanks,” Jenny said. She nodded in the direction of the twins. “Caitlyn and Carrie?”
Bree laughed at her amazement. “Can you believe it? They’re all grown up. Abby’s still reeling about that. As for Trace, I’m afraid their stepfather is having a very difficult time thinking they’re old enough to date, much less be on their own at college. He has this mile-long list of rules for them while they’re home on break from school. They’re convinced he lives in the Dark Ages. I’ve read the list. Abby showed it to me. They could be right.”
Jenny laughed. “I can imagine. Those girls might not be his biologically, but Trace was always as protective as if they were.”
“He’s much worse than their dad, who’s always indulged their every whim to make up for not being around,” Bree said, then winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”
Jenny shrugged. “Things with my dad are what they are. I’ve gotten over the fact that he’s not the least bit interested in me or my life. It’s been years since I had so much as a birthday card, much less a call from him.”
“But you have a stepfather who does care,” Bree reminded her pointedly. “My uncle Thomas really wants to be part of your life.”
Jenny held up a warning hand. “Don’t go there, okay?”
Bree sighed. “Just saying. He’s a great guy to have in your corner.”
Jenny deliberately turned away and glanced around. She realized then that she and Bree were the center of attention for some of the children, including her half brother. Sean Michael O’Brien, who’d turned four a few months back, was studying her with a quizzical expression, as if not quite sure who she might be but clearly thinking he ought to know. With his bright red curls and blue eyes, he was unmistakably all O’Brien. The Collins genes had apparently been no match for his Irish heritage.
Jenny forced her gaze back to Bree. “So you’ve been trying the story out on a captive audience?” she teased, determined to lighten the mood and change the uncomfortable subject.
Bree laughed, her expression unapologetic. “There are a lot of young O’Briens. They make a great test group to be sure this story will appeal to all ages. And my sisters and sisters-in-law get free babysitting. With their careers flourishing, time’s at a premium for all of them this time of year. Come and say hello. Emily Rose and Sean are especially excited about seeing you.”
Jenny couldn’t help it. Eager as she was to see Bree and Jake’s daughter, she stiffened at the mention of her own little brother. The reaction shamed her, especially with Bree regarding her with that knowing expression.
“Don’t take all your misguided, conflicted feelings out on Sean,” Bree pleaded quietly. “It’s not fair.”
“I know that,” Jenny acknowledged, flushing under the intense scrutiny. “It’s just that I don’t know how to act around him. I don’t feel like his big sister.”
“Only because you’ve chosen to stay away,” Bree said. “You are a part of this family, Jenny. And he is your little brother. Those are facts. You need to come to terms with them.”
Jenny shook her head, still in denial. “I’m not an O’Brien,” she said, as if that were the only thing that mattered. In many ways, to her it was.
Bree merely smiled. “Try telling my father that. Mick’s been chomping at the bit for a couple of years, threatening to go to Nashville and haul you home himself. He’s not fond of family rifts, especially since he and Mom have mended theirs and gotten back together, and the rest of us have fallen into line to forgive her, too. He expects peace and harmony to reign throughout O’Brien-land.”
Jenny could believe that. Mick O’Brien was a force of nature. He, along with his brother, Thomas, who was now her stepfather, and their other brother, Jeff, had built Chesapeake Shores. Mick tended to think that gave him control over everything that happened not only in the family, but in the entire town.
“What stopped him?” she asked curiously.
“Not what,” Bree said. “Who. Gram, of course. Nell told him and the rest of us that you’d had to face a lot of changes in your life, that you weren’t the first one in this family to need some space, and that you’d come home when it felt right. I’m pretty sure that was a not-very-veiled reference to my mother’s extended absence, which Gram used to make her point with Dad.”
“And yet you decided to prod things along by dangling this offer to write the songs for the Christmas play in front of me,” Jenny said.
Bree flushed. “Yes, well, Gram doesn’t know everything. This seemed like the right opportunity and the right time. Even though you haven’t said as much, I know things have been difficult for you in Nashville since the split with Caleb. The two of you were linked so tightly professionally and personally that it can’t be easy moving on with everyone in the entire country music community watching you.”
Jenny didn’t even try to deny it. Ignoring the stares and speculation had taken a toll. Pretending that she didn’t miss Caleb had been even more difficult. “I was glad for the break, no question about it,” she told Bree.
“And I was tired of showing pictures of you to my daughter and your brother to make sure they’d recognize you,” Bree said. “See what I mean? Perfect timing all around.”
Just then a pint-sized version of Bree, red hair coming free from two braids only one of which still had a ribbon at the end, bounced over and regarded Jenny with a somber expression. She was clutching Sean’s hand, her whole demeanor protective, as if she somehow understood the undercurrents swirling around them.
“You’re Jenny,” Emily Rose announced with certainty.
“I am,” Jenny confirmed.
“That makes us cousins, just like me and Sean.”
Despite her discomfort, Jenny smiled. “That’s exactly right.”
“You’ve been in Nashville writing music,” Emily Rose continued as if well-rehearsed. “I’ve heard your songs on the radio. I can sing some of them.”
“Me, too,” a shy little voice piped up. “Mommy plays
