look...." The words trailed off. "No, you don't look well at all! What's the matter, Marty? Having second thoughts? Well, I can't say as I blame you. You just met the man - "
Jack Richards drew his daughter into his arms and gave her a bear hug. "Lay off, Marge, we just got here." He winked at Marisa. "You look fine to me. A little tired, maybe, but your mother looked like death warmed over two days before we got married. You got any coffee?"
"Sure, Dad."
Marisa went into the kitchen. Death warmed over. Interesting that her father would use that phrase. She glanced over her shoulder as her father entered the kitchen and sat down at the table.
"Terrible, these killings." He spread the newspaper out on the table, the same paper Edward had dropped on the floor earlier, judging by the wrinkles in it.
"Yes, terrible," Marisa agreed. She handed her father a cup of coffee and sat down across from him. Ask him how many people he's killed... I never hunt where I live... Ask him how many lives he's taken to sustain his own... I haven't killed anyone in over a hundred and fifty years...
"What is it, Marty? What's wrong?"
"Nothing, Dad, just wedding jitters, I guess."
"Where'd you meet this guy?"
"At a carnival just after Halloween."
Jack Richards laughed out loud. It was a good sound, deep and rich, reminding Marisa of camping trips and hikes through the woods, and birthday parties.
"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to laugh." He shook his head. "Do you love him?"
"Yes." There's just one thing wrong with him. He's a vampire.
"Does he love you?"
"Yes." He thinks my blood is the sweetest nectar of all. She shook the thought from her mind. "Where's Mom?"
"Unpacking." He reached across the table and took her hand. "If you love each other, truly love each other, everything will work out. Trust me. And if it doesn't, well, you know your mother and I are always here for you."
"I know, Dad. Thanks." She squeezed his hand, thinking how lucky she was to have this man for her father. He'd always been there for her. He'd taught her to ride a two-wheeler, taken her to her first concert, comforted her when she broke up with her first boyfriend, bought her her first corsage. He'd taught her to drive a car, persuaded her mother to let her shave her legs because all the other girls were doing it, slipped her an extra dollar or two when her allowance ran out, helped her with her homework.
"So, Marty, are we too late for breakfast?" her mother asked as she came into the kitchen.
"No, Mom. What would you like?"
"You just sit down and let me take care of it."
"Mom, you're my guest."
"Don't be silly. I'm not a guest, I'm your mother. You go get dressed, and I'll fix breakfast. What do you want?"
Marisa smiled at her parents, thinking how lucky she was. "Whatever Dad wants is fine with me."
"That's my girl," Jack said with a grin. "French toast and bacon. How's that sound?"
"Perfect!" Marisa winked at her father, and then left the room, smiling.
Mike and Barbara and their kids arrived a little after one. Marisa hugged her nieces and nephews. At ten, Mike Junior was the eldest; then came Nikki, who was eight, Mindy, who was six, and Danny, who had just turned two.
"I don't know why you live here," Mike complained as he gave her a hug. "The traffic is terrible."
"But the weather is wonderful."
"I guess. Couldn't you have gotten married in the summer so we could hit the beach?"
"Sorry, Mike."
"Yeah, yeah."
"Just ignore him," Barbara advised. "He's been complaining ever since the plane landed. You know how he hates to leave Colorado."
"How are you, Barb?" Marisa asked, giving her sister-in-law a hug.
"How am I? I'm pregnant, that's how I am."
"That's wonderful!" Marisa exclaimed, and in the back of her mind she heard Grigori urging her to marry a man who could give her children. She looked at Mike's kids. They were all beautiful, well behaved.
"Another baby!" Marge Richards rushed forward and hugged Barbara. "I thought Marisa would have the next one."
"Me too," Barbara said. "We really weren't planning on any more, but - " She shrugged. "Things happen."
Mike grinned. "Yep."
"Congratulations, son." Jack shook Mike's hand, then pulled him into his arms and hugged him. "Good thing you've got those three acres."
"There's room for you and Mom."
"No, thanks, my days of shoveling snow are over."
"Why didn't you tell us this at Christmas?"