Building a Surprise Family

by Anna J. Stewart

  Bea turned, narrowed her eyes at him as if she was waiting for the punch line. “Will you come for dinner?”

  “I will if you promise to leave Jo alone for the time being.” Nothing like blackmailing his own mother.

  Bea’s mouth twisted as if she were debating. He hadn’t eaten at his parents’ for over a year. He’d never come right out and said why, that he couldn’t trust his mother to respect the changes he’d made in his eating habits, but it had, at the time, been the only way he could reach his goal. “All right. Six o’clock sharp. You know how your father likes to eat—”

  “At the same time every night. Yes, I remember, Ma.” He walked over and kissed her cheek. “And I’ve even brought you fresh fish you can cook up. I need to get going. You letting me take one of those?”

  She had a pie wrapped up and in his hands before he could blink. “We’ll see you tomorrow night for dinner. Be safe, Ozzy.”

  “Always, Ma.” He lugged the pie out with him, gave his father a goodbye wave before climbing into his SUV. He stayed there for a long moment, a slow smile spreading across his mouth as he glanced down at the pie.

  Blackmail did work. He’d just found an excuse to see Jo again.

  * * *

  IF THERE WAS one constant in Jo’s universe, it seemed as soon as she started settling in, trouble found her.

  Something had woken her up. Jo touched a hand against her stomach, felt the familiar kick, but didn’t think the cause was baby related. An odd rustling sounded in the distance, but she chalked it up to the wind and tried to go back to sleep.

  Less than a minute later she stared wide-eyed at her bedroom wall. Nope. Despite her plan to get an extra hour, it wasn’t going to happen. Time to get up and see what the day had in store for her.

  She’d expected trouble to come at her fast and furious on Monday, but apparently it had been delayed.

  The crew had turned up on time yesterday morning for her inaugural meeting. When she’d laid out their rather exhaustive and expansive work schedule for the next month, the seventeen-man and two-woman crew had seemed both relieved to be back at work and guardedly optimistic about the plans she had in place for all of them.

  When they’d asked her about the pile of outdoor furniture that had been taking up a significant amount of space, she’d told them what she had in mind, and mere moments later, they’d gotten to work and within a few hours had their eating area set up and ready to use. Normally there were at least two or three grumpy Guses who pushed back or gave her attitude, but nothing so far ticked her frustration radar.

  She’d thought trouble had turned up at lunchtime when Gil Hamilton pulled into the parking lot. But rather than him approaching her, he’d merely gotten in line at the food truck and left as soon as he received his lunch, giving her an absent wave as he drove off.

  No sooner did she think perhaps she’d lucked out for the rest of the day than her cell phone rang and, well, trouble was on the other end.

  Said trouble turned out to be almost good news. The new supplier called to say that due to a shortage of transport vehicles, the cement, rebar and sand she was expecting on Wednesday would be delayed at least two days. Add to that the heavy equipment she’d rented would also be coming later, on Wednesday morning, but after a quick schedule adjustment, she decided they’d tackle the rest of the nature path they’d been clearing near the cliff’s edge. Problem—and trouble—solved.

  Now Tuesday morning dawned and with it came Jo’s determination that nothing was going to throw her off-kilter. That was before she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. Five o’clock. Despite being an early bird, there were days she would give anything to be able to sleep five more minutes.

  Jo scooted forward, her feet dangling until they touched the wood floor. Her toes felt funny. She looked down, and unable to believe what she saw, her mouth dropped open.

  Her swollen ankles bulged, and her toes were now crammed together like all those little piggies after their visit to market. She pressed her hands against her cheeks, as if that would give her an explanation as to what was happening.

  “What the heck is this?” She pushed herself up and made her way quickly to the bathroom, a trip she’d already taken twice during the night. Her stomach seemed to be demanding its own space, and as she dragged herself into the kitchen afterward, she was torn between vomiting and hoovering up whatever she had in the refrigerator. “How can I be hungry and sick at the same time?” She still couldn’t feel her feet.

  She opened her laptop, clicked on her search engine and typed in pregnancy symptoms. What she found certainly didn’t do much to alleviate her concerns that she had, in the space of one night, lost the last bit of control over her body. Swollen feet were typical for expectant mothers. She attempted to tug her robe tighter, but there was a significant and possibly permanent gap between the edges. “Kid, you and I need to have a serious conversation.”

  Headlights swung across and through the windows and the sound of tires over gravel had her hurrying forward, praying this wasn’t an earlier than expected delivery. She’d given the crew a 7:00 a.m. call, mainly because she’d been too tired yesterday to finish her initial sketch for the children’s playground that she planned to break ground on while they had the time.

  She flipped open the blinds and spotted Ozzy’s SUV pulling to a stop outside her door.

  “Ah, jeez.” She yanked the tie out of her hair, fluffed her fingers through it and scrubbed her hands hard against her eyes. She was barely awake and certainly not functioning, but there was no mistaking the jolt of excitement that zinged through her at the thought of seeing him. “Cool your jets, Jo.” She wanted to dissuade him, right? What better way to do that than to just open the door as she was?

  Which was precisely what she did. “Morning, Ozzy.” Her overly cheerful, chirpy tone had her wincing as he jumped back, whatever he had in his hands nearly toppling free. “Oh, sorry.”

  “I’ve got it.” Even in the barely-there light she could tell he was blushing again.

  “Got what?” He really was fun to tease.

  “Ah, a welcome-to-town gift from my mother. She calls it blueberry crumbcake pie. It’s kind of her specialty.”

  “You had me at pie.” Not wanting to be an ungracious hostess, she stood back and held open the door. “Come on in.”

  “Thanks.” He looked tired, if not exhausted, as he walked past her and set the carrier on the counter. “A gift from my mom. I wanted to drop this off to you before I went home to crash.”

  She should send him on his way, but she hadn’t realized until she’d recognized his vehicle that she’d missed seeing him. She didn’t even want to know how that was possible after only knowing him a few days. “Rough time at work?”

  “Four car accidents on the highway just out of town. No fatalities, thank goodness, but there were kids and, well, chaos. Ended up working an extra eight hours.” He inclined his chin. “What happened to the security cameras?”

  “Gil had them removed after the accident. It was an unneeded expense when things were shut down and now that I’m living on-site, I don’t see the need. Is everyone okay? From the accident,” she added at his blank stare.

  “Minor injuries. You’re out here alone without any protection?”

  “Yes.” Jo kept her tone pleasant. “Wasn’t it you who said Butterfly Harbor isn’t a hub of criminal activity?”

  “Actually, you said it and I didn’t argue. I don’t think—”

  “No thinking allowed. I invited you in because you look wiped out and you have pie.”

  “But—”

  “I’m a grown woman who can take care of herself. No one’s going to come messing around with a construction zone that’s in limbo,” she said. “There’s nothing here worth stealing or messing with.”

  “You’re here.”

  Jo took a deep brea
th. Contrary to his protestations the other day, obviously Ozzy Lakeman suffered from a severe case of hero complex. “I have my cell and I have a satellite phone for backup. I’m fine.” She narrowed her eyes. “I mean it, Ozzy. I appreciate the concern, but I don’t need it. Now—” Jo crossed her arms over her chest “—are you dropping off and running, or would you like to stay for coffee?”

  “I wouldn’t say no to decaf.” He hesitated, clearly evaluating his options. “No need to wait on me, though, I can get it. If that’s okay.”

  “Sure. Help yourself. Top left cabinet,” she said, grateful for the offer, and headed over to a stool at the counter. “Mugs are in the one next to it.”

  “Thanks.” That grin of his flashed and she felt that warm fluttering sensation sliding through her. He made himself right at home, sorted through her single-cup pods and popped one into the machine. It was something she could get used to, welcoming him home at the end of his shift. She cleared her throat, shook her head. Time to start a new conversation before she melted into a puddle on her kitchen floor.

  “So, were you busy at the station?” Wait. She’d already asked that, hadn’t she?

  “Interesting.” He chose a mug, set it in place and started the coffee machine. “We were on our way back after the accident when we got a call from Roman’s mom, Ezzie. She’s kind of a caretaker for the Cocoon Club—”

  “What’s a Cocoon Club?”

  “Right, sorry.” With his fingers, he rubbed at his eyes. “Everything here needs its own disclaimer. The Cocoon Club is a group of older residents here in town. They pooled their resources and moved into this refurbished old Victorian. Made it a kind of seniors’ residence rather than getting stuck in one elsewhere. Oscar took a fall.”

  “Okar?” Jo remembered baby Zoe calling his name. “Stooped stoic bald man? Uses a walker?”

  “That’s him. He decided to go rummaging around in the garage for his old croquet set. At two in the morning,” he added. “As Ezzie said—she keeps an eye on the club—sometimes those seniors are worse than teenagers. We eventually convinced him to go for X-rays to make sure nothing’s broken. Last I heard he’s still in the hospital.”

  She could sense his ready sympathy for the older man and admired him for it.

  “I really did just plan on leaving the pie for you outside.” He pulled his cup free of the machine and took a tentative sip. “Have an early start this morning?”

  “Late, actually. Kidlet was done sleeping.” She lifted her feet, which were still looking like mutant appendages. “I think it’s got me in early training for midnight feedings.”

  “What’s going on with these feet?” He came over, glanced down before she could lower her legs. “Oh. Huh. That new?”

  “It is indeed.” She sighed. “I was probably on my feet too much yesterday, but we got so much done.” She rested her cheek in her hand. “We might even have a shot at catching up in the schedule. Provided we don’t have any problems today.”

  “Just because you have a lot to do doesn’t mean you should ignore what your body’s telling you. And before you get mad, I’m saying that as a friend.” He offered a flash of a smile that had her catching her breath. “And a trained EMT.”

  While it irritated her that he didn’t think she’d come to these conclusions on her own, they might as well get it all out at once. “Do you have any thoughts on the matter?”

  He should carry a permit for that smile of his. “Why do I have the feeling you’re humoring me?”

  “Because you’re a smart man who knows when he’s crossing into danger.”

  “Or maybe I’m someone who recognizes someone who needs a confidant or sturdy presence in her life.”

  She could imagine him being that in her life. Far too easily. Which was why she needed to keep him at arms’ length and any conversation between them as impersonal as possible. “Let’s stick with the advice for my feet for now.”

  A flash of disappointment crossed his face, but not enough to dim the flirtatious light in his green eyes. “First, I’d say we get these up and off the floor.” He leaned down and caught both her feet and lifted them up onto the second stool beside her. She had to catch her balance and readjust her position, grabbing hold of his shoulder to steady herself.

  “They’ve been off the floor all night,” she grumbled.

  “I know Abby over at the Flutterby Inn drank a particular herbal tea when she was pregnant with her son, David. Her OB recommended it to help flush toxins out of her system. What did yours say?”

  She grimaced. “I’ve actually been meaning to make an appointment with one.”

  Rather than lecturing her or acting surprised that she didn’t currently have a doctor, he pulled out his phone. “Do you have one in mind? If you don’t—”

  “Leah recommended one. I wrote the name down and put it over there.” She gestured to the notepad behind her. “I’ve been meaning to give her a call.” Jo pointed to her desk. “Could you grab my calendar?”

  “Sure. Still stuck on a print one?”

  “It’s my backup in case I don’t have my phone.” Or if she had to stand up to get it. Five months into this pregnancy and she was beginning to wonder if she’d make it another four. “I don’t need a keeper, Oz, I promise you.”

  “Oh, Cheyenne.” He found the note with the doctor’s name. “Great. That’s who I was going to suggest you call.”

  “Recommending OBs now, are you?” He was chock-full of information, wasn’t he?

  “With the baby boom we’ve had in this town the last few years, believe me, everyone knows who to call. Cheyenne does a lot with holistic and natural remedies and treatments. She and Calliope Costas are developing a line of products together, so whatever she recommends, you can probably find at Duskywing Farm.”

  “I meant to get there over the weekend and didn’t manage it.” Instead, she’d made a quick stop at the market to stock up on necessities. “What are their hours?”

  “Calliope has an open gate policy. Just don’t be surprised if it seems as though she’s waiting for you.” That secretive little smile of his had her spidey senses tingling.

  “Why would she be waiting for me?”

  Ozzy just shook his head and sipped his coffee while she copied the doctor’s phone number onto her calendar.

  She found, however, her attention was drawn to the pie caddy he’d set on her counter. “What kind of pie did you say that is?”

  “Blueberry crumbcake.” Before she knew it, he was rummaging around for a plate and cutting her a slice. “It’s my mother’s special combination of coffeecake, crumble and pie.” The blueberries and their thick glaze glistened as he transferred the slice to a plate. “Breakfast of champions.”

  She grabbed a fork out of the canister on the counter as he moved to her fridge. “Aren’t you having any?”

  “No.” He poured a glass of milk, emptying the carton, then slid that in front of her. “Drink up.”

  She was about to say again that she didn’t need a keeper, but right now? All she could think about was that amazing-looking pie. After her first bite she was nearly swooning. “Oh, wow.” She covered her mouth as the sweet brown sugar mingled with the tart berries. “That is amazing. I don’t know how you don’t scarf down the whole thing in one sitting.”

  “I’ve done that plenty of times, believe me.” He leaned back against her counter, coffee in hand, and eyed her. “I should give you a heads-up. Bringing that by was actually me saving you.”

  “Saving me from what?” She couldn’t remember being this hungry before.

  “My mother turning up. She considers you a bit of a curiosity.”

  Jo smirked. “What’s she most curious about? My job or my single mom-to-be status?”

  “Both.” He eyed her over the rim of the mug. “She means well. And she’s determined, so she might very well pop up at
some point. You might want to be prepared.”

  “Don’t worry.” Jo had dealt with more than her share of busybodies. She instantly regretted the thought. Not a nice thing to think about someone’s mother. “Are you sure you won’t have some?” She pointed at the pie. “Seriously, I shouldn’t eat that whole thing myself.” But she could. Far more easily than she cared to admit.

  “I try to curtail the sugar when I can and I’ve had more than enough lately.” He went back to the coffee cabinet and took out a stack of plates. Within seconds he had the pie divided into neat slices, covered in plastic, then foil and stuck all but one slice into the freezer. “There. Out of sight, out of mind. You get one a day,” he ordered.

  “Not bad.” Even now as she finished her piece, she could feel the temptation ebb. “Is that one of the tricks you learned to lose weight?”

  His hand hesitated when he lifted his mug again.

  “I saw the pictures at the station,” she explained. “If it’s a touchy subject...”

  “It’s fine.” But some of the light faded from his eyes. “I had to learn a lot of tricks to take the weight off. Tricks I still have to use.”

  “It’s not easy, what you did. It’s commendable.”

  He shook his head. “It was necessary.”

  “It does make you uncomfortable, I mean, to talk about it.” She pushed her empty plate away and sat back. “Why? If I were in your shoes I’d be—”

  “You’d be what? Shouting it from the rooftops? Celebrating? Believe me, it’s not that easy to do when everyone you’ve ever known remembers you as you were. There’s only so many times I can hear ‘you look great, Ozzy’ or ‘you should have done this years ago’ or, my particular favorite, ‘look what you’ve been hiding.’” The fact that he met her gaze directly as he spoke told her how much she really didn’t understand about him. “Lives are complicated. My weight was always the first thing people saw. Before my abilities, before my sense of humor, and for a long time, I let myself be defined by it. You know a little about first impressions, I’m sure.”