A/N: Greetings, IPS fans! I am back in action – hopefully this prompts some measure of delight, but you never know. I bring you the promised (or nearly-promised) sequel to 'Independence Day' which would be 'By Thanksgiving.' (Enjoying that holiday theme I have going yet?) I have flown forward in time a little further than some of you might've anticipated; Norah is six in this tale (what can I say, I like writing kids.) That, and this is definitely more Mary/Marshall centered, contrary to the original which was focusing on Brandi.
I sincerely hope you find this second story to your liking; the only precursor I can give it is that Mary is supposed to have changed – in a variety of ways. Hopefully, she does not seem out-of-character, but merely mellowed or less acidic in select situations. I've never really written a tale where she was supposed to have changed quite a bit (or at least changed in a fairly short amount of time.)
Other than that, I hope the description on the main page speaks for itself and that you enjoy this short, but introductory chapter!
XXX
"Mom, I can't go over until I have my glove!"
Why was Mary the one with her head buried in the backseat looking for it again? While the gnats buzzed around her ears? Squashing her already paunchy stomach? Norah was the one who knew where it was.
"Where did you put it?" Mary snapped, just imagining the hopping up and down in the grass her daughter was doing behind her, impatience at its finest. "I saw you get in the car with it; why isn't it here?"
She rifled through a thousand other things, hair falling in her eyes, wishing every time she had to sweep it out of her face that she'd tied it in a ponytail.
"I think it's under the seat!" Norah piped up. "Behind your side!"
The whole floor of that end of the van was littered with nothing that belonged to her child – a tiara, plastic teacups, dolls with perfectly combed heads of hair. The sight of all that pink made Mary faintly ill, which wasn't hard these days, and she vented her frustrations on the mess of magenta.
"Robyn…" she sighed, stretching upward and regretting it when she felt the crick in her back. "You needed all this to come to a baseball game?"
Finally turning around, Mary saw both girls and Brandi, whose eyes were buried behind a ball cap while she fiddled with the squirmy little boy on her hip.
Despite being night and day, Norah and Robyn could hardly look more alike if they tried, both with scraggly, exceedingly long honey-blonde hair. Norah refused to have hers cut because it was tiresome and she had more interesting things to do, or so she claimed. It was halfway down her waist and Robyn's, still lengthier, was tied in doglike pigtails on either side of her head.
Norah in her baseball jersey and denim shorts, hat pulled low over her features. Robyn in some flippy purple dress with ruffles. Nearly identical and nothing the same.
"Tell me that," Mary repeated, for Robyn was hedging, just getting ready to make a spectacle. "You need teacups at a baseball game?"
"What if the queen shows up?" Robyn put on her best 'diva' face and stuck a hand to her hip. "How am I supposed to entertain her if we don't have anything to drink?"
This kid. Mary would never get used to her.
"The queen," her aunt stated disbelievingly, about to pounce all over that. "On the diamond."
"Mare, she can borrow a glove," Brandi piped up, not wanting a battle of wills to come into play. "Max, don't…" she cut herself off distractedly when her son with the mop of sandy hair tried to bat her cap off.
"Mom-my!" Norah whined upon hearing Brandi's suggestion, stretching out the salutation. "They get mad if you ask to borrow. Please – I need to find mine!"
"Bug, I don't know where it is!" Mary protested. "It's your job to get it in the car; we talked about that, remember?" she didn't want to have this discussion again. "You're on the team, your responsibility."
Norah looked near tears, even in the shadow of the bill on her baseball cap. Fortunately, Robyn was still caught up in her speech from before and noticed her cousin's plight at once. She was very quick when anything involving emotions came into play.
"Wait!" the younger held up a theatrical finger, like she was about to shout 'eureka.' "I do believe I saw it under the kitchen cupboard!"
"My God…" Mary muttered under her breath while Robyn shoved her aside to stick her own head in the car, just trying to wrap her mind around such a phrase coming out of a five-year-old's mouth.
Robyn was nothing if not dramatic, wiggling her little butt out of the backseat while she searched. It made the ruffles on her dress dance back and forth. As if Mary wasn't feeling conspicuous enough in the oversized jersey used to hide her belly, and she hadn't had a good start to the day. Six months and morning sickness still persisted; she didn't need the pack of Shannon women, add Max, to the mix.
"Ah-ha!" with a flourish, Robyn flung the prized glove out for the group to see. "The saucer from my tea party! I didn't get all the milk out, but it should still work…"
Norah shrieked, "Thanks Robyn!"
Mary wondered, very shrewdly at that, how long her niece had known it was there, just waiting for the right moment to put on her usual play. But Norah, while not from the same mold, usually indulged her little cousin and topped this find off by throwing her arms around her fellow's neck in gratitude.
"It was nothing, it was nothing…" Robyn declared pompously.
Brandi was cracking up, still trying to ward off two-year-old Max with her fingers; he was bound and determined to get her hat off. But Mary had to remind herself everyday to tolerate Robyn and all her antics; she'd never met such a drama queen in her life, not even the little girl's mother. She was more feminine than all of them put together.
"Mom, I gotta go!" Norah informed them, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. "I don't want to miss batting practice!"
"Better run," Mary told her. "Brandi and I are gonna find a seat; dad will be here soon."
"Is Marshall coming?" her daughter wanted to know of the man that lived in their house.
"I don't think so…" Mary shook her head. "He got called into work."
This happened more often than usual now that Mary had suspended her job 'until further notice' in favor of Norah and the ambiguous one on the way. It also gave Marshall the opportunity to be boss again, something he'd been forced to pull rank on five years prior with he and Mary's hook-up.
Norah pouted very briefly, but she was used to work, "Okay," with a sigh. "You'll tell him how I do?"
"I always do," Mary reminded her. "He likes the run-down."
"I can tell him," Robyn butted in, placing her fingers over her heart. "You should really try to steal the home base or something, and then I can make it sound like a news report."
"Okay honey…" Brandi finally attempted to shut her up, but she was usually too endeared to her child to bother. "Norah needs to get moving."
With this, Mary's daughter raised her hand in farewell to head off for the field, and although her mother knew she was already late, she couldn't let her go just yet. Her newly-six-year-old did well with all the women, but it was Marshall and Mark who usually made her baseball games worth it, and neither of them were here. It was only fair for her tough-bad-ass-mother to fill their shoes momentarily.
"Shannon!" Mary called out just as Norah's red All Star sneakers turned to begin their race.
But, she should've known what was coming next because it was the oldest running gag between the cousins that existed.
"I'm Shannon!" Norah and Robyn shouted at the same time. And then, the old-school expression Marshall had taught them, "Jinx!" their fingers pointed at one another.
"I said it first!" Robyn declared.
"Fine…" Norah sighed, not really caring this time and jogging to her mother.
Looking down into her big dark eyes, the perfect swirling mass of brown and green, Mary tipped the bill of the hat upwards. Her insanely-long locks were tangled and her cheeks were already pink from the August warmth. But, she looked the part just as the men in her life would hope.
"Be careful, love…" Mary cautioned. "You kick butt though, got it?"
"I've done it before," Norah shrugged, a mild attempt at modesty. "Are you gonna get a funnel cake again?" she was always interested in the snacks.
Mary took her turn at shrugging, "Junior Mann didn't think much of the funnel cakes last time," she drummed three fingers across her belly, but that was all.
Norah nodded, understanding and not wanting her mother to experience all the hurling which she hadn't been able to get rid of lately. A second pregnancy at forty-five didn't do wonders for her insides, but she was getting used to it at this point.
"Now go…" Mary nodded toward the field. "I kept you too long already."
With a smile, Norah jetted off, red shoes blurring, laces slapping through the tall green summer grass. Brandi flashed her sister a grin with her exit, finally having been able to calm the bouncy, fidgeting Max. Robyn danced ahead of them, twirling the skirt of her dress in the breeze. Mary often wondered how that kid didn't get dizzy with all the spinning she did. But, as she was often reminded; it was part of her 'persona.'
"I was surprised to hear you be sensible about the funnel cake," Brandi remarked, one eye on Robyn, the other adjusting Max as they walked. "You devoured the one you had last time, and Marshall said you spent the whole night barfing it up."
"Do you really need to remind me?" Mary griped. "Go get your daughter…" she jerked her head at Robyn, who was about to join a pack of strangers. "Give me the moppet…" she indicated Max, whom she had nicknamed for his shaggy hair.
Brandi chuckled, "You just don't want me to see you moon over him," but she handed her son over anyway, where Mary was just barely able to hitch him onto her hip in what little room there was left.
Convinced she was right; Brandi pranced ahead of her sister to catch up with Robyn, who was indeed trying to put on some act for other baseball-goers heading toward the diamond. Max, almost two and a product of the rekindling of Brandi's and Peter's romance, pointed as his mother disappeared, but said nothing. He rarely did. Mary often thought Norah and, especially Robyn, did not give him a chance.
"Sucks to have to keep your mouth shut," Mary informed him, raking her fingers through the sand-shaded waves, admiring the sprinkling of freckles across his nose. "Hate to say it, man, but you might have to get used to it."
Max turned at the sound of her voice, staring up at her with his blue eyes, the exact sapphire shade of Brandi's. Robyn's were darker, like Peter's, which was another reason she resembled Norah so closely. Mary took her nephew's hand, marveling in the smallness of it in her own, trying to recall what that feeling was like. Come three months, she and Marshall were going to be at it again.
"Berry…" he articulated, which was his muddled version of her name, as he had too much trouble with the 'M' sound. "Berry…mama…" he gestured at Brandi again.
"She's right there," Mary assured him. "You saying I'm not good enough?"
Talking to a two-year-old. Her life had come down to this.
XXX
A/N: I tried to work in ages and relationships there as casually and concisely as possible, but just in case any of it was missed:
Brandi and Peter have (finally) married. They have Robyn, who is now five (and you should obviously remember from the first story!) and Max, nearly two. Norah is six; Mary and Marshall are expecting their own in three months time; etc, etc. Hope you guys enjoyed! You know how much I love your reviews; you all are as loyal as they come!
