Starting Now

by Debbie Macomber

  “What would you like to do?” he asked. “Do you want to go out? I always feel better when I get out on the water for a while.”

  She seemed to think it over, then shook her head. “Can we stay right here?”

  “Anything, sweetheart.”

  “Would you hold me again?”

  “Nothing would please me more.”

  They cuddled on the sofa. After a while Libby reached for the remote control and turned on the television. Phillip couldn’t remember the last time he’d watched an hour of uninterrupted television. None of the programs were familiar.

  He lost track of how long the two of them sat there. He laughed at some crazy sitcom joke and saw Libby break into a weak smile. Seeing her amused, however briefly, gave him such a strong feeling of love that he closed his eyes, unfamiliar with the richness of the emotion. Needing to respond in some way, he kissed the top of her head.

  He wasn’t a man who often sat and did nothing. Yet he was at complete peace, being here with Libby, sharing this time with her, knowing she needed him.

  What amazed him, what he couldn’t explain, was the knowledge that he needed her, too. Being with her was just as important to him. His reserve was gone, worn away bit by bit as their relationship developed. He’d watched her with the newborns and how she’d stepped up to mentor Ava. This was a woman he could love, a woman he could spend the rest of his life loving.

  When the late-night news came on, Phillip knew it was time to leave. Yet he didn’t want to go, didn’t feel good about abandoning her. Not tonight.

  “I should get home.”

  “Don’t go,” she pleaded, clinging to his arm.

  “Libby …”

  “I’m not asking you to make love to me.”

  “Trust me, darling, you wouldn’t need to ask.” If she only knew how tempting she was, red eyes and all. He’d never been more attracted to a woman than he was that very moment.

  She looked up at him and smiled. “I need someone to hold me tonight. Nothing more. Can you do that?”

  “For you, my love, anything.”

  “Am I your love?” she asked, frowning slightly with the question.

  “Yes,” he whispered and bent down to kiss her. Although it would have been easy to allow that lone kiss to become much more, he ended it quickly for fear he wouldn’t have the fortitude to stop. “I love you, Libby. More than I realized it was possible to love someone. I’d mostly given up on falling in love.” If he didn’t love her he’d take her to bed and keep her up all night making love to her. He would do all that when the time was right, but that time wasn’t now. Not tonight.

  “Loving you frightens me a little.”

  He laughed softly. “Me too. We’re a couple of hard cases, aren’t we?”

  In fact it frightened him more than a little, but not enough to give up now. With his arm tucked around her waist, he led her into the bedroom.

  Chapter 35

  Libby woke Saturday morning to discover Phillip asleep beside her. She blinked, thinking he might be an illusion, and then remembered that she’d lost Amy Jo to Peter’s family. Phillip had been her comfort; she doubted if she could have made it through the night without him. In her grief she’d actually asked him not to leave her. Friday had been one of the lowest points of her life. Libby liked being independent. From the time of her mother’s death, she’d prided herself on her ability to deal with the blows life tossed her. She was strong, capable, and resourceful, but yesterday, she’d badly needed Phillip. She’d clung to him, unable to face the night alone. How easy it would have been for him to make love to her. He hadn’t—all he’d done was hold her close and whisper reassurances.

  Although Dr. Phillip Stone enjoyed his hospital reputation of having a stone heart, that was a misnomer. He was actually tenderhearted, compassionate, and kind. Their romance wasn’t based on sexual attraction, although that was definitely there. Oh yes, it was present and accounted for in spades, but tightly controlled on both sides. Neither one was willing to allow hormones to rule their actions. The pain of broken relationships had left scar tissue on his heart and on hers, too. Both had been wary of getting involved again, cautious—perhaps overly so.

  The draw she felt for Phillip was beyond the physical. At one time Phillip had been trapped into thinking work was the solution to all of life’s issues. Like her, his profession had fed his ego and allowed him to bury his problems behind a protective wall. But Phillip had broken free of his workaholic tendencies, and because he had she felt the hope and confidence that she could, too. Really they were kindred spirits, alike in so many ways.

  He must have felt her scrutiny because his eyes slowly opened. “Morning,” he said, stretching his arms above his head and releasing a yawn. He tossed aside the sheets and surged upright. It seemed that only then did he remember the reason he had stayed the night. He sat on the edge of the mattress and turned back to look at her.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Passable.” The pain wasn’t nearly as raw as it had been the day before, but it was there, pressing hard against her chest, a heavy weight against her tender heart. For as long as Libby could remember, her cure had been to keep busy, to work harder and longer and ignore everything and everyone else. If she could occupy her mind with menial matters then she wouldn’t dwell on her troubles. This was how she’d survived following her mother’s death and how she’d gotten through her divorce.

  “Good.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry to rush out of here but I took weekend duty for a friend so I need to get to the hospital.”

  While she would have rather he stayed, she accepted that he needed to go. She walked him to the door and resisted the urge to hug him for fear it would make their parting even more difficult for her. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You’re welcome.” He placed his hand at the base of her neck and brought her mouth to his, kissing her gently. “Can I see you tonight?” he asked. “Would you like to go sailing?”

  He’d asked her the same thing the night before, thinking, she was sure, that being on the water would help her deal with her pain. Earlier it had seemed impossible that she would ever be able to leave the comfort of her condo. This morning, she felt more inclined. “That would be perfect.”

  “I’ll text you when I can.” He hesitated as though it was difficult to leave her.

  “Okay.” She walked him to the elevator and he kissed her again, wrapping his arms around her, and holding her tight and close, so close that for a moment it was almost difficult to breathe.

  Libby had a busy day. Robin stopped by shortly after Phillip left and packed up Amy Jo’s room for her. Lydia phoned twice just to make sure she was doing all right. Her family of friends surrounded her with love. Later that evening, and on Sunday, too, Phillip came and they sailed across Lake Washington. The wind buffeted her face, drying her tears as she did her best to hide the fact that she was crying. Phillip simply held her as she worked through her loss.

  Monday morning Libby found Phillip waiting for her outside Frankie and Johnny’s. He draped his arm around her shoulders as they entered the gym. He seemed to have a hard time taking his eyes off her. If they’d been anyplace else she suspected he might have kissed her.

  Robin was waiting for her inside the locker room. “I wasn’t sure you’d show,” she said, watching Libby closely.

  Libby sat on the bench and looked up at her friend. “The way I figure, I could stay home and feel sorry for myself, or get on with my life. I’ve decided to move forward.” It wouldn’t be easy, but Libby would ignore the hole in her heart and do her best to forget this abrupt and unwelcome twist in the story line she’d conjured up for herself. It was as if the universe had intervened and put the kibosh on her new, risk-taking, joy-seeking self.

  “Anything I can do?” Robin asked.

  “Not really, but thanks for offering.”

  “What are your plans for the day?”

  Libby had given the matter
some thought. “After the gym I’m going to talk to Ava about this adoption. I want to make sure, as Amy Jo’s biological mother, she can have a role in the baby’s life later even if she doesn’t think she wants that now. My fear is that she’ll change her mind at some point. Also, I thought I’d contact Peter’s family and offer them all the baby furniture I purchased. They’re going to need it.”

  “They should pay for it,” Robin insisted.

  Libby had briefly considered that. It wasn’t like she could afford it, either. “No, it’ll be my gift to them. They aren’t wealthy people and they’re already picking up the attorney costs for the adoption and making big changes in their lives for … Grace.” She stumbled over Amy Jo’s new name.

  Robin shook her head. “You have a generous heart, Libby.”

  Libby wasn’t convinced it was generosity as much as self-preservation. She didn’t want the baby furniture at the condo any longer than necessary. It was a constant reminder to her of all she’d lost.

  “Don’t you have a second appointment this afternoon with those friends of the Buckleys?” Robin asked.

  “I do.” At three Libby was scheduled to meet with the Nyquist family regarding trust funds they wished to set up for their grandchildren’s college education. After her initial contact with them Libby got the impression this could be the beginning of a long and fruitful relationship. She certainly felt that way about the Buckleys.

  Following her meeting with the Nyquists, Libby stopped off at A Good Yarn. After everything Phillip had done for her over the past few days she wanted to find a special way to thank him. She decided to knit him a sweater.

  They met for dinner on the waterfront that night. Phillip was full of stories from the hospital. She knew he was looking to distract and entertain her. They walked hand in hand along the piers and decided to ride the ferry over to Bainbridge Island for no better reason than to buy a latte and ride back. All the time she’d lived in Seattle, Libby had never taken a ferry for pleasure, and Phillip confessed that he hadn’t, either.

  Tuesday morning at the gym Libby stepped onto the treadmill and started her workout. She ran faster and longer than she usually did, struggling not to think about Amy Jo. She accepted that the Armstrongs had a claim on the baby that was their son’s child, but that didn’t make it any easier to let her go.

  It was almost eleven by the time Libby stopped by the office and read over the adoption paperwork before driving over to Ava’s to review everything. She purposely chose a time when Darlene Carmichael would be away from the house. This discussion was one she wanted to have without Ava’s grandmother close at hand. Ava would do anything to appease her grandmother, and Libby wanted to take that additional pressure off her.

  Ava sat on the front porch steps waiting for her. She stood when Libby parked at the curb in front of the house and ran to her.

  Libby hugged her. “How’s it going?” she asked, tucking her arm around the girl’s waist as they walked down the cracked sidewalk toward the house.

  “I’m feeling better every day.”

  Libby was extremely proud of Ava. “I knew you would.”

  “Peter and I talked. He told me how sorry he was and that he would have helped me if he’d known … only I don’t know what he could have done. He wanted to tell me his parents will love our baby.” She raised questioning eyes to Libby, as if seeking her approval.

  “They will be good parents to Grace,” Libby said, brushing the hair from Ava’s forehead in order to get a better look at the girl’s eyes. She nearly stumbled over the words, but she was determined to be positive for Ava’s sake.

  “I … I wanted you to adopt her.” Ava frowned as though unsure what to think.

  Libby swallowed against the tightness that gripped her throat. “I would have loved nothing better. But sometimes life throws us a curveball and we have to deal with it as best we can.”

  Ava lowered her head.

  “What’s important to me is that your rights regarding your daughter are clearly spelled out.”

  “I … I don’t understand.”

  “Let’s sit down and talk this out,” Libby suggested.

  The two of them sat on the front step. The concrete slab was narrow, so their hips pressed tightly against each other’s. “Remember when I explained to you about an open adoption?”

  Ava nodded. “Yes, but I think it might be easier not to see the baby again. Ever.”

  Libby wouldn’t discount that. “The thing is, Ava, Grace is going to be living right next door to you. Of course, Peter and his family could move one day, but until then you won’t be able to avoid seeing her.” Libby suspected the family already had plans to make a change—for one thing, they would need a bigger house now that they were enlarging their family.

  “I … guess you’re right.”

  “You’ve already lost your mother,” Libby reminded her. “I don’t want you to look back someday and regret that you gave up your child without any provisions to be part of her life.”

  Ava considered Libby’s words, a thoughtful look scrunching her forehead. “This will allow me the chance to see my baby if that’s what I want later.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Then I think an open adoption would be best if you do, too.”

  “I do. I’ll contact the attorney as soon as I get back to the office and make sure everything is drawn up so you have that option. Before you sign anything, I want to read it over, understand?”

  Again Ava nodded. “Okay.”

  Libby hugged her briefly. “I’m going to be at the yarn store later this afternoon. Will you be there?”

  The teen broke into a wide grin and nodded. “Casey asked me to come to the shop today and I told her I would after I saw you. I thought I would knit myself a vest for school. I start classes on Monday.”

  “What color?”

  “I like purple,” Ava said. “Bright, bright purple.”

  “Purple is one of my favorite colors, too. I’m going because I decided to knit Dr. Stone a sweater.”

  “In purple?”

  Libby laughed. “If that’s what he wants. I’m going to let him decide on the pattern and the yarn.”

  “Cool. You must really like him.”

  “I do.”

  They spoke for several minutes and then Libby had to go. “I’ll see you later this afternoon,” she promised.

  Ava nodded excitedly.

  Once more Libby marveled at how resilient this teenager was, though she understood that Ava was far too young to fully appreciate what she was going through. That was why Libby found it important to protect Ava’s interests with regard to her baby.

  Libby returned to her office. She had a long phone conversation with the Armstrongs’ attorney. Within minutes of hanging up Marlene Armstrong phoned to thank her for the offer of the baby furniture.

  For the rest of the afternoon Libby worked on the Buckley account, and also on the trust funds for the Nyquists. After her meeting with them, Lois and Jamison Nyquist had given Libby a retainer. They were both in their mid-sixties, retired, and seriously looking at their financial future. As much as possible they were hoping to protect their assets and put something away for their children and grandchildren. Libby had proposed several options.

  Phillip stopped by her condo and she fixed a Cobb salad for dinner. Actually they made it together, chopping and assembling the ingredients next to each other. Phillip brought along a bottle of merlot, which he deftly opened and poured while she set the table. He helped her with the few dishes afterward.

  “I’ve decided to knit you a sweater,” Libby said as Phillip dried the frying pan she’d used for the bacon and set it on the stovetop. “But if I’m going to put that much work and effort into the project, I want to be sure you’re going to like the pattern.” Margaret had been of the opinion that Libby shouldn’t even consider such a time-consuming project without a ring on her finger first. When a woman decided to knit a man a sweater, the relationship had to be se
rious. Libby was serious about Phillip and growing more so with every passing day. Knitting a sweater for him felt right.

  Phillip reached for his wineglass. “I don’t have to go back to the yarn store, do I?”

  “Would that be such a sacrifice?” She looked up at him and smiled beguilingly, or as close as she could get to beguiling.

  “No, I guess not.”

  He didn’t look or sound convinced.

  “It would help if you chose the yarn, too.”

  Phillip folded the dishcloth and set it aside. “I hate to tell you this, but I know next to nothing about yarn.”

  “The color, sweetheart. I know you’re partial to blue.”

  “I am.” He frowned, bunching his brows together in a single jagged line. “How’d you know that?”

  “You’re not serious, are you? Nearly all your shirts are blue.”

  “They are?” He seemed shocked.

  “Yes, and the color goes very nicely with your eyes.”

  He grinned then, accepting the compliment with ease. “Lots of women tell me so.”

  She jabbed his arm and he pretended to be hurt. “Come over here and sit down with me and we can look through a few patterns.”

  He dutifully followed Libby into the living room. She brought out the pattern book she’d bought and handed it to Phillip. It took him all of five minutes to choose a V-neck sweater.

  “Now, about this sweater you’re knitting for me.”

  “Yes?” She looked up and blinked at him several times, flirting outrageously. She felt better when she was with Phillip; the ache in her heart hurt less when he was at her side, and for a while she was able to forget.

  “It seems to me knitting a sweater involves a lot of work.”

  “It is a huge undertaking. Margaret actually suggested I should have an engagement ring on my finger before I purchase the yarn. It’s an investment, you know.”

  “The ring or the yarn?” he asked, and his eyes danced with merriment.

  She smiled. “Both, actually.”