Now You See It by Cáit Donnelly Read Free Book Online Page B

afternoon—or was it the two hundredth?
    Timothy shrieked in glee, and Mary Kate started to stand up, fixing him with her Mother’s Eye.
    “Don’t, M-K. Let him have fun. This is just what I need right now. Let’s just pretend we’re having a nice family barbecue, just for a little while.” She gazed back out at Timmy. “I still can’t get over how much Tim looks like Mike. He’s a carbon copy.”
    Mary Kate grimaced. “I know. I must be in the mix somewhere, but you couldn’t tell by looking. Timothy, come say hello to Auntie Gemma.”
    The dog bounced her front legs coyly to one side, ducked her head, and charged, grazing Timothy just above the Speed Racer Band-Aid on his knee and knocking him onto his seat.
    “Fake out!” he yelled, laughing as they closed and grappled. “Ow! Nikki, cut it out!” he protested when she held him down with one paw and licked his face. “Hello, Auntie Gemma,” he called between giggles.
    “It’s okay, M-K,” Gemma said. “It’s nice to watch them play.”
    “He can’t get away with that. He’s been on a roll since this morning. Come on, Tim,” his mother added, raising her voice.
    “I’m Timofee!” he asserted, scrambling to his feet and striding toward them across the lawn in as close an imitation of Mike’s walk as his four-year-old legs could manage. “Not Tim. There’s another Tim in my school. I’m Timofee. Hi, Auntie Gemma.”
    “Hey, dude. So, what’s best about school these days?” Gemma asked, grown-up to grown-up.
    “I have two girlfriends,” he said, holding up three fingers, then folding one under. “Jess’ca and Wizzabah. I like Wizzabah best, ’cause her hair’s red like mine. But she pinches. I’m going to yell my best yell,” he said, and ran back out onto the grass shouting “YAAAAH” as he braced himself for another onslaught.
    Gemma looked up at the sound of the screen door opening and closing with a small bang as Mike and Brady came out of the house carrying trays loaded with a pitcher of margaritas, soft drinks, chips and salsa.
    Mary Kate said, “Brady, you might as well stay for dinner. I’ve got enough for an army. And for dessert,” she went on with a straight look at Gemma, “ you get one of Mike’s migraine pills. Guaranteed eight hours of total oblivion.”
    “I’d rather have margaritas.” She looked with longing at the tray of salt-rimmed glasses and the condensation on the pitcher of pale green slush.
    “Spoken like a true daughter of the Old Sod,” Mike said in a heavy Donegal lilt.
    Brady laughed. “Which old sod was that?”
    That drew a smile from Gemma, and Mary Kate sputtered.
    “Old sod!” Timothy shrieked. He began to run around in great circles yelling “Old Sod, Old Sod” over and over, punctuated by louder and louder shouts.
    “Timothy, bí ciúin!” Mike said, raising his voice a little to be heard over the mayhem.
    The uproar stopped.
    “So, the whole family’s learning Irish, huh?” Brady said. “I haven’t heard that since I was a kid in Canada. Neighbor’s grandma used to yell at us kids. She’d wave a wooden spoon around in the air—scared us silly when we were little.”
    Mike chuckled. “Ma was an Irish speaker from Donegal. She made sure our first language was Irish, but we forgot most of it when we got older and too cool to speak anything but English. I want Tim to learn as much as I can teach him.”
    Brady nodded. “Languages are good.”
    “Yeah. You speak how many?”
    “Classified,” Brady said out of the corner of his mouth and grinned. “Nothing as cool as Irish, though. Maybe I should learn.”
    Gemma had to admit, he had a nice smile. Mischievous. The corners of that long mouth sort of folded into lines in his cheeks, and his teeth looked strong and translucent. She found herself watching his mouth and wondering how it would taste. She wanted to fidget, but held still with an effort, and tried to concentrate on Mike as he began to pour.
    The first tart-sweet