Giving Thanks For Baby

by Terri Reed

  Hanging on to his backpack, Scott made his way to the counter and ordered a cappuccino with double whipped cream. Soon he was settled at a table off to the side where he pulled out a fiction book and began to read, the voices of the crowd fading into white noise.

  A jarring knock against the table interrupted his flow. He glanced up and met the gaze of a beautiful, brunette woman with the most intense, bright-blue eyes he’d ever seen. She smiled apologetically as she maneuvered a jogging stroller to the corner before unstrapping an infant from the seat. The baby, dressed snugly in a powder-blue jumpsuit, had the same dark hair and vivid blue eyes as his mother. His chubby legs pumped as she held him face out.

  The woman stood and stared at the crowd, indecision written plainly across her oval face. Scott didn’t blame her for hesitating before venturing into the sea of bodies taking up every available space on the carpeted floor. The only vacant chair sat across from Scott. He waved a hand to garner the woman’s attention.

  She flicked her gaze at him, clearly unsure if she wanted to give him her attention. Scott indicated the chair. She bit her lip for a second before pulling the chair out and plopping down in it.

  “Thanks,” she whispered.

  “You’re welcome,” he whispered back.

  The woman turned her gaze toward the storyteller. Scott turned his attention back to his book, but now the words wouldn’t hold his interest. His gaze kept straying to the woman sitting across from him. He hadn’t seen her in church.

  He liked the way her dark ponytail hung low at the nape of her neck in a sleek way. The high arch of her cheekbones and forehead gave her face sharp lines that were softened by her pert nose and dark lashed eyes. She wore a red turtleneck sweater and close-fitting black pants tucked into her snow boots.

  There was an air of sophistication about her, yet she didn’t come across like one of the many debutantes his mother had always tried to fix him up with.

  She glanced his way and he quickly picked up his drink to mask his bad manners. He usually didn’t stare. Or notice a woman’s left hand. Hers was surprisingly ringless.

  But for some reason this woman drew his attention.

  Probably it was the way she so deftly handled her son, like a pro. And there was no mistaking the love shining in her expression every time she cooed in her child’s ear.

  Before the last story ended, the baby had fallen asleep, his little body curled over her arm, his head listing to the side. Scott tapped on the table, drawing the woman’s questioning gaze.

  Nodding his head toward the child, he whispered, “He’s asleep.”

  The woman’s eyes widened as she adjusted the infant so she could verify Scott’s statement. With a rueful shake of her head, she said softly, “So much for story time.”

  She made to rise and Scott quickly asked, “Can I buy you a coffee?”

  Slowly, she sat back. For a moment she stared at him, then finally she nodded. “Decaf almond latte.”

  Scott rose and made his way to the counter. Naomi was going to love to hear that he’d just offered to buy this woman coffee without even asking her name. But the moment he’d thought she was leaving, he’d plunged ahead with the first thought that came to mind.

  He ordered the drink and a few minutes later returned to the table. The jogging stroller was now pulled close to the table and the baby sleeping soundly in the seat.

  Scott set the mug in front of the woman before he sat down. The quiet hum of parents helping their children do a craft that related to the story swirled around them.

  She smiled as she put her slender hands around the mug. “Thank you. This was thoughtful.”

  “You’re welcome.” Keeping his voice low, even though the crowd was busy with parents and kids wanting the storyteller’s books, he held out his hand. “Scott Crosby.”

  She slipped her hand into his, the temperature from the mug having heated her palm. Warmth spread up his arm.

  “I’m Trista Van Zandt.”

  “Any relation to Ross and Kelly?”

  Her expressive eyes widened. “Ross is my big brother. Do you know them?”

  “Yes, very well. Are you visiting?”

  She trailed a fingertip around the top of the mug.

  “No, I moved here recently from Richmond.”

  To make sure he wasn’t making an incorrect assumption, because some women didn’t take their husband’s names, he asked, “Are you and your husband enjoying our small community?”

  Trista’s expression closed. “I’m divorced.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  She gave him a tight smile. “Nothing for you to feel sorry about.”

  He acknowledged that with a nod. “Does your ex-husband still live in Richmond?”

  “Yes, thankfully. He wasn’t ready to be a father. The very idea cramped his style.”

  Anger stirred in Scott’s soul. “That’s just…” He was tempted to say a bad word but resisted with effort. “I’ll never understand how some men can be so selfish. Being a parent is the greatest honor God gives us.”

  She blinked, obviously surprised by his words. “I suppose that’s true. It certainly is the hardest job I’ve ever had.”

  “It’s good you have your brother and Kelly so close by. Are you adjusting to life here, then?”

  Her smile was warm. “Yes, thank you. The slower pace is perfect for Aidan and me. I love my job and Aidan seems to like his day care.”

  “Where are you working?”

  “Benson and Benson.”

  “Ah, are you a lawyer?” Scott said, wondering why that wouldn’t surprise him. She had a very strong self-possessed way about her, similar to Scott’s brothers. Only on them, it could, at times, come across as arrogance.

  “Yes. And you? What do you do, Scott?” Her interested gaze sought answers.

  Scott gladly gave one. “I’m the assistant pastor at Chestnut Grove Church.”

  She blinked. “Oh.”

  Scott could feel her retreat like the rays of the sun going behind a cloud. A disquieting sense of disappointment engulfed him, though why he didn’t understand.

  It shouldn’t bother him that this woman would put up a wall between them because of his call to follow God. So many other people in his life had, as well.

  He sighed. “I take it you don’t go to church?”

  She raised a brow. “Why would you say that?”

  He shrugged. “The vibe you’re giving off.”

  One side of her mouth rose. “Oh, really? I didn’t know pastors bought into vibes.”

  “Reading people is part of the job.”

  “Then you must be good at your job, because you’re right, I don’t attend church. My parents weren’t big on religion and I just never got into it, not like Ross has.”

  Scott considered her for a moment. “Now that you’ve moved here, maybe you should consider attending. You might be surprised.”

  She lifted one slim shoulder. “Maybe.” She fiddled with a napkin. “I read in the paper that the Douglas Matthews show will be filming at the upcoming food drive that the church is hosting. That must be exciting to have that kind of coverage.”

  “Yes, it is.” She didn’t fool Scott by changing the focus of their conversation. “The Douglas Matthews Show has brought Chestnut Grove a lot of attention. I think the food drive this year will be the biggest yet. And the Thanksgiving Day dinner for the homeless is sure to be a success.” He eyed her speculatively. “We could use more volunteers if you’re interested.”

  She seemed to consider his words. “I might be. I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

  “Call the church and ask for Naomi. She’ll be able to get you plugged in.”

  “I’ll think about it.” She took a sip of coffee.

  An awkward moment of silence stretched between them.

  “Did you grow up here?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I was born here, but we moved to Richmond when I was a teen. I came back as soon as I left semi
nary.” He searched her face. “What about you? Where were you born?”

  “Brooklyn, New York. I went to college at Columbia, then moved to Richmond, where my ex-husband’s family is from.”

  Scott’s gaze touched on the sleeping baby. “How old is…Aidan?”

  Affection lit up her eyes. “Yes, Aidan. He’s seven months.”

  “That’s a fun age. They aren’t supermobile yet, but their personalities start to develop.”

  Both of her eyebrows rose. “You sound like you know kids. Are you married?”

  He laughed. “No. I just know from all my nieces and nephews.”

  “Ah. Learning secondhand. My big brother’s been learning from Aidan. I can’t wait to see Ross with his own little one.”

  “They’ll be good parents,” Scott stated. “Tiny Blessings has been through the wringer with all the scandals that have happened over the past few years. But your sister-in-law and brother seem to be handling it wonderfully.”

  Trista’s chest puffed with pride. “They are. I’ve been trying to help a little with some of the legal stuff, but it gets very complicated and time-consuming. Not to mention how emotionally involving it is.”

  “I can imagine. The agency has been a blessing to so many people.”

  Trista liked the way he put that. In fact, she liked Scott. His blond, green-eyed good looks aside, there was something very soothing and gentle about him that was so unlike her brother or Kevin.

  She supposed being a pastor was the difference.

  And being a pastor also made him off-limits.

  That is, if she were looking for a relationship, which she wasn’t. She couldn’t imagine two people having more dissimilar perspectives on life.

  Beside her Aidan stirred. She picked him up and snuggled him close as he awakened.

  “You’re very good with him,” Scott commented.

  The compliment made her heart swell. “I can’t imagine my life without him now.”

  She dug through the stroller bag and brought out a baby bottle with powdered formula in it. She turned to Scott. “Would you mind holding him while I fill the bottle with water?”

  Scott’s eyes lit up. “I’d love to, if you think he’ll do okay with a stranger.”

  “Only one way to find out,” she quipped and handed her son to him.

  Scott handled the baby as if he’d been doing it forever. He bounced Aidan on his knee and made faces until Aidan giggled.

  Trista went to the counter to get water, her gaze straying to Scott and Aidan. She trusted Scott with her son, which was unusual. Again, the fact that he was a pastor must be the reason she felt so comfortable with him.

  She watched them together, Aidan’s eyes bright with curiosity and Scott so animated. She felt a pang of sadness and anger for what Kevin had chosen to destroy.

  He’d vowed to have nothing to do with their child if she chose to keep him. So far he’d kept his vow.

  But the disturbing message left on her machine earlier in the week nagged at her. Thankfully, he hadn’t called again and she had no intention of calling him. She was done with that chapter of her life. She and Aidan would do just fine.

  She thanked the girl behind the counter who handed her some lukewarm water. She quickly mixed Aidan’s bottle and went back to the table.

  Scott reached for the bottle. “May I?”

  “Uh, sure.” She watched as Aidan greedily sucked from the rubber tip, drips of liquid leaking from the corners of his mouth. She handed Scott a burp cloth. He dabbed at the corners of Aidan’s mouth and placed the cloth underneath the bottle to catch the dribbles.

  “Your sister must love to have you babysit,” Trista commented.

  Scott chuckled. “I get asked to babysit a lot. Not only by my siblings’ kids but at church, too.” He shrugged. “I love kids.”

  “It shows.” Her heart twisted with yearning for someone like Scott to be an important part of her son’s life. Maybe he could be, as their friend? That might require attending church, but more significantly, letting Scott into her life. She wasn’t sure if she could do either one.

  Chapter Three

  Trista’s attention was snagged by a woman and a young boy as they rose from a nearby table. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was Lynda Matthews—television talk show star Douglas Matthews’s wife—and their son, Logan. Trista gasped softly as the woman turned toward her.

  A dark bruise covered one eye from the bottom of her cheekbone to the top of her eyebrow, masking the spattering of freckles on the left side of her face.

  Trista jumped up and went to the woman. “Lynda? What happened?”

  Lynda’s pale-blue eyes widened in panic. She reached up and tugged at her light-brown bobbed hair as if to cover the mark. Her four-year-old son clung to her hand.

  “I—I, uh…” She tried to smile but it looked more like a wince. “Logan has a great pitching arm.”

  Trista didn’t buy the lie. No way could Logan, a little slip of a boy, throw a baseball hard enough to cause such damage.

  Scott joined them, Aidan propped on his hip as though he belonged there, but his jaw had taken on a hard edge. “Hello, Mrs. Matthews. Logan. Would you care to join us?”

  Lynda shook her head and clutched at the closed neckline of her button-up blouse with her free hand. “We really should go. Douglas has an interview this morning with the paper and he would…like for us to be home when he gets home.”

  Trista had met Douglas Matthews on several occasions. She doubted the self-important man would even notice if his wife and son were home. At the Fourth of July barbecue in Winchester Park, Lynda had indicated she wanted to talk with Trista in a lawyer-client way.

  But Lynda had never called.

  Clearly something was going on, and Trista wasn’t going to let it slide. “Lynda, would you be interested in having lunch with me one day next week?”

  Lynda swallowed. Her gaze shifted around as if checking to see that no one overheard them. Timidly she nodded.

  “Do you still have my card?” Trista asked, even as she stepped back to the stroller to find another one.

  Lynda took the business card Trista held out with shaky hands. “We should go.”

  Trista stopped her with a hand to her arm. Lynda shied away slightly. “Promise me you’ll call. That has all my numbers on it.”

  “I’ll try,” Lynda said softly.

  “If I don’t hear from you by Thursday, I’ll call you.”

  Lynda shook her head. “Oh, no. I’ll call.” She scurried away, her son close to her side.

  “Did you believe that story?”

  Trista turned to Scott. Worry darkened his eyes. “What do your vibes tell you?”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “That she’s hiding something. Something not good.”

  Trista nodded. “That, Pastor Scott, is an understatement. I’d say her husband did that to her.”

  Scott frowned. “I wouldn’t go advertising your suspicion unless you have proof.”

  She took offense to his warning to keep quiet. That wasn’t in her nature. She took Aidan from him. “What other explanation could there be?”

  Scott shook his head. “I don’t know. I can only pray that it’s not true and that she will get help if it is.”

  Hugging Aidan close to still the quiet anger running through her, Trista said, “She’ll get help. I’ll make sure of that.”

  Scott smiled. “Spoken like a true avenger.” His expression turned cautious. “Just remember that revenge and vengeance aren’t yours, hers or mine to take.”

  Trista refrained from rolling her eyes. “You sound like my brother. He uses scripture on me all the time and he’s not even a pastor.”

  Scott’s expression looked so stricken that she laughed.

  “Don’t worry, I know Ross is only trying to help me.”

  “He loves you,” Scott stated, his gaze still troubled.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “And I love him, so I tolerate it.”

  “But you won’
t tolerate it from me?”

  She grinned. “Not yet. We’ve only just met.”

  “Would you…” He had the sweetest look of indecision on his face that made Trista want to say yes to whatever he was going to ask just to put him out of his misery.

  “Would you want to go to a movie with me tomorrow night?” he finished quickly

  Warning bells went off in her head. She wanted to refuse, but her lips wouldn’t let the words out. Wasn’t she planning on going to the theater tomorrow anyway? “Are you asking me on a date?”

  For a beat he looked stunned, then slowly shrugged.

  “Is that allowed?”

  His eyebrows pulled together. “What?”

  “I mean, you’re a pastor. Can you date?”

  He chuckled. “Yes. I have a special dispensation.” He winked.

  “Oh.” A date? With him? Not a good idea for so many reasons. “I’m not looking for a relationship,” she stated firmly.

  He looked relieved. “Neither am I.”

  So it wasn’t a date. A burst of irritation surprised her.

  “How about if we meet at the cinema,” he continued. “Then it’s just two new friends watching the same movie. Not a date.”

  Pushing aside her unsettling annoyance, she nodded, thankful he’d come up with a doable plan. “That would work. I’ll meet you there for the last matinee. I think Ross and Kelly will watch Aidan for me. Could we go see that new thriller everyone has been talking about?”

  He grinned. “That’s funny. That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

  A little shiver tripped down her spine. Was it coincidence or were they really in tune with each other? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to that question.

  As Trista pushed Aidan in the stroller back to her apartment, she couldn’t believe she’d agreed to meet a pastor at the movies. Ross was going to laugh until he cried. She’d just have to convince her big brother this was not a date.

  Lynda Matthews pulled into the driveway of their large new mansion on the outskirts of town. She couldn’t park in the garage because of her husband’s many cars. Douglas collected vintage roadsters. Just one of many expensive passions.