Free The Fall of Shane MacKade by Nora Roberts Page A

announced, her face prettily flushed, as she hurried in from the kitchen. “Let’s round up these kids. Rafe?”
    â€œJason’s asleep. I already put him down.”
    â€œI’ll get Layla.” Shane shot Savannah a wicked grin. “It’s going to take Jared at least five minutes to haul you up from the couch.”
    â€œJared, make sure you punch him after we eat.”
    â€œDone,” Jared assured his wife, and rose to help her up.
    As exits went, it was a noisy one, as was the meal that followed. The big dining room, with its tall windows, held them all comfortably, the long cherrywood table generous enough to make room for the necessary high chairs.
    The choice of spaghetti with marinara sauce, platters of antipasto and crusty bread was, Rebecca thought, inspired. There was enough for an army, and the troops dug in.
    She wasn’t used to family meals, to spilled milk, scattershot conversations, arguments, or the general, friendly mess of it all. It made her feel like an observer again, butnot unhappily so. A new experience, she thought, one to be enjoyed, as well as assessed.
    She found it oddly stimulating that, while not everyone talked about the same things, they usually talked at the same time. Both toddlers smeared sauce lavishly on themselves and over their trays. More than once during the meal, she felt the warm brush of fur against her legs as the dog searched hopefully for dropped noodles or handouts.
    She couldn’t quite keep up as conversations veered from baseball to the late-summer harvest, from teething to town gossip, with a variety of unconnected subjects in between.
    It dazzled her.
    Her memories of family dinners were of quiet, structured affairs. One topic of conversation was introduced and discussed calmly and in depth for the course of the meal, and the meal would last precisely one hour. Like a class, Rebecca mused now. A well-organized, well-constructed and well-ordered class—at the end of which she would be firmly dismissed to attend to her other studies.
    As the careless confusion swirled around her, she found herself miserably unhappy with the memory.
    â€œEat.”
    â€œWhat?” Distracted, she turned her head and found a forkful of pasta at her lips. Automatically she opened her mouth and accepted it.
    â€œThat was easy.” Shane rolled another forkful, held it out. “Try again.”
    â€œI can feed myself, thanks.” Struggling with embarrassment, she scooped up spaghetti.
    â€œYou weren’t,” he pointed out. “You were too busy looking around like you’d just landed on an alien planet.” He reached for the wine bottle and topped off her glass before she could stop him. She never drank more than twoglasses in an evening. “Is that what the MacKades look like, from a scientific viewpoint?”
    â€œThey look interesting,” she said coolly. “From any viewpoint. How does it feel to be a member of such a dynamic family?”
    â€œNever thought about it.”
    â€œEveryone thinks of family, where they come from, how they fit in, or don’t.”
    â€œIt’s just the way it is.” Shane helped himself to another generous serving from the communal pot.
    â€œBut, as the youngest, you’d—”
    â€œAre you analyzing me, Doc? Don’t we need a couch and a fifty-minute clock?”
    â€œI’m just making conversation.” Somehow, she realized, she’d gotten out of rhythm. And she’d been doing so well. She made an effort to settle herself, took a slow sip of wine. “Why don’t you tell me about this hay you’re going to mow?”
    He angled his head. He knew when a woman was yanking his chain, and he knew how to tug back. “I’ll have the mower out tomorrow. You can come on by and see for yourself. Maybe lend a hand. I can always use an extra pair of arms—even skinny ones.”
    â€œThat sounds fascinating, but I’m