The McRae Series 01 - Twelve Days Sam and Rachel

that night, not that she was surprised by that. Apparently it took begging on her part to get him there, and she hadn't sunk to that level that night.
    Still, she woke on the seventh day of Christmas feeling just fine. Her youngest sister, Ann, called that morning right after Rachel got downstairs and started the coffee. Ann was the only one of Rachel's siblings who'd had the audacity to move away from Baxter, Ohio, something seen as an absolute sin in Rachel's family. Ann lived an entire two hours away. She and her husband were expecting their first child in the spring.
    They talked for a few minutes, Ann mentioning something about her back hurting and being tired all the time, and then said abruptly, "Can we talk about these things, Rach? I wasn't sure.... I don't want to make it any harder for you."
    Rachel closed her eyes and said, "I want you to be happy. I want you to have a healthy, happy baby, and I want to hear all about it."
    "Still, on Daddy's birthday, when we told everyone..."
    "I'm sorry," Rachel said. "I didn't want you to see that. I would never want to bring you down at a time like this. It's special, Annie. You've waited a long time."
    Their father had despaired of his third daughter ever settling down and having children. He'd hounded Ann and her husband mercilessly. This had been a long time coming.
    "Enjoy it," Rachel said. "Every bit of it."
    "Thank you. And I want you to enjoy the three that you have. I wish I could see them."
    "Well, if they're still here at Christmas, you will."
    "Good." Annie hesitated. "Is everything else okay?"
    "Uh hmm," she claimed. "Why?"
    "Oh, I just talked to Daddy the other day, and... You know how he is. He worries. About all of us," she rushed on.
    And right now, he was worried about Rachel and Sam. And he was taking it to the family. Damn.
    "You have enough to worry about," Rachel said. "Baby names and baby furniture. What color to paint the baby's room. How you're going to rearrange your whole life. All that stuff."
    "I know. Still, if you need to talk..."
    "I'm fine," she claimed. "And right now, I have to go. Dave Sharp has his photography equipment set up at the town square, and he's taking family photos today. I want to get a photo of the children."
    "Okay. Call me," her sister said.
    Rachel hung up thinking of calling her father and telling him everything, begging him not to say anything to anyone else about her and Sam, but it was probably already too late. She was afraid everyone knew by now or if they didn't, they soon would.
    And that wasn't her real problem. Her problem was that she had to stop hiding from it, stop pretending she didn't know, and figure out how to deal with it. But not today.
    Today she was going to have the kids' picture taken.
    Zach fussed as she and Emma dressed him up, and Emma smiled shyly as she put on her best dress, a new green velvet one, and Rachel fixed her long hair and put a Christmas-plaid ribbon in it.
    Grace was already in her Christmas outfit, a red plaid dress made along the same lines as Emma's, and they were almost out the door when Zach decided to give her a drink of grape juice from his cup. Rachel and Emma both grabbed for the cup, but none of them faster than Grace. She grabbed on to anything that came within six inches of her and the next thing they knew, she was dripping with juice and looking quite happy about it.
    Zach apologized three times, and Rachel assured him everything would be fine. They stripped Grace and washed her off and then thought about what to do. They could go buy a new dress or try to get this one clean. But they were ready to go. Like Grace, Zach never stayed clean for long. They'd be pushing their luck, either way.
    "I know something we can try," Rachel said.
    She headed upstairs, Emma following her with Grace, once they'd given Zach a very stern warning to stay put and not get dirty. Rachel walked into the bedroom Emma was using. She lifted the lid of the old cedar chest in the corner, the scent alone bringing back so many memories her throat nearly closed up completely.
    "What's this?" Emma got to her knees beside Rachel. Grace stood in front of her, hanging on to the sides, patting her hands against the top.
    "My grandmother's cedar chest," Rachel said.
    "It smells funny," Emma said. "But good."
    "That's the cedar. The wood the chest is made from."
    "You have baby things," Emma said, picking up a tiny pair of booties.
    "Yes." Rachel dug through the chest that hadn't been opened in