“Do you want me to phone her?” Mary Jo asked.
“Sure, go ahead.”
Not five minutes later, the whole dinner party was arranged. Reservations were made at a place called D.D.’s on the Cove, after which they all drove over to the McAfees’ house to drop off Noelle. At Mack’s suggestion, Linc and Lori waited in the truck; then they headed to the restaurant for their six-thirty reservation.
Linc would’ve preferred dinner with just Lori. However, he’d acceded to her wishes. Mack ordered champagne, which went straight to Linc’s head. Come to think of it, he hadn’t eaten since early that morning. When the food arrived, he was the first to finish his meal.
The others didn’t seem to be in any hurry. He yawned several times as a broad hint that they should wind things up, but no one noticed his impatience. When they were finally ready to go, Lori announced, “I need you to drive me back to Mary Jo’s place.”
Linc sat with his key in the ignition and turned to look at her. “You do?” He couldn’t hide his disappointment. “Why?” He wondered if Lori was making excuses to delay their wedding night.
“She has something for me,” Lori explained, gently patting his knee. “It won’t take long, I promise.”
Reluctantly he followed Mack and his sister back to the McAfees’ house to get Noelle, which meant another ten-minute delay.
“What’s this thing my sister has for you?” Linc demanded as they waited in the car. “Can’t you get it some other time?”
Lori gave an exaggerated sigh. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“Yes,” he insisted.
“Okay… It’s a special nightgown for our wedding night. It’s from France and it’s black silk. I…should’ve planned for this—only, well, I didn’t and now I’m sorry.”
“And where exactly did my sister get this?” Frankly Linc didn’t like the idea of Mary Jo passing off some secondhand nightgown to Lori.
“She said a friend gave it to her when it seemed she was going to marry Noelle’s father.”
“Oh.”
“You don’t mind, do you?”
He couldn’t very well broadcast his intention of removing this fancy French nightgown ten seconds after she put it on, so he answered with a halfhearted shrug. “I don’t mind if it’s important to you.”
“Everything about tonight is important to me.”
“Me, too,” Linc admitted.
After Noelle had been loaded into Mack’s car, Linc drove to the duplex on Evergreen Place. Lori hopped out of the truck, ran inside with Mary Jo and was back in less than five minutes.
By the time she returned she was grinning from ear to ear.
“What’s so funny?”
“Your sister. I like her. We’re going to be good friends.”
Wonderful, just wonderful. “You got that nightgown?”
“Got it.” She balanced the box on her lap. “Mary Jo wanted me to tell you it’s her wedding gift to you and me.”
“Great.”
Following Lori’s instructions, he drove to her apartment building and parked in the lot. He came around to help her out, then reached into the back for his suitcase. They walked toward the building arm in arm.
He’d never been to her apartment so he hadn’t realized how delicate and feminine it was, although he probably should’ve expected it. There were floral prints on the walls and the white sofa was decorated with a variety of pink pillows in varying sizes and fabrics. The kitchen was one that would make Martha Stewart proud. That was fine by Linc. He was thoroughly tired of his brothers’ cooking, not to mention his own.
“Should I put this in the bedroom?” he asked, grabbing his suitcase. The idea was to steer Lori in that direction as quickly as possible.
“Sure.”
Linc was in and out of the room in two seconds flat. “The bed’s got a canopy!”
“Yes, I know.”
As far as he was concerned, this should’ve been revealed long before their wedding night. “I can’t sleep under a canopy.” Call him silly or macho or anything you wanted; it was something he just couldn’t tolerate.
Lori said nothing. After a moment she gestured helplessly. “I only have the one bedroom.”
“Okay, fine, we’ll sleep on the sofa tonight.”
She studied him as if he’d lost his mind. Maybe he had. One thing was certain: he wasn’t sleeping in pink sheets with a froufrou canopy over his head. It would make him feel like…like he’d charged into the private domain of some princess.
Without commenting Lori disappeared inside the bedroom and quietly closed the door. Linc didn’t follow. Sitting down on the sofa, he picked up a magazine and started to flip through the pages.
He didn’t notice how many minutes passed before she came back, and when she did, the issue of Home and Garden slipped from his fingers and fell to the carpet.
Lori posed in the bedroom doorway, wearing a little piece of black silk. A little piece of nothing. Something seemed to be stuck in his throat as he tried not to stare. It didn’t work. He couldn’t look anywhere but at her.
“My sofa doesn’t turn into a bed, Linc,” she told him. “If we sleep there, we’ll both be uncomfortable.”
Sofa? What sofa?
“I’ll make sure the canopy comes down in the morning, okay?”
He nodded several times and still had trouble swallowing.
Lori held out her hand and Linc stood and walked toward her. She smiled up at him, her eyes filled with love.
Bending down, he slid his arms around her and half lifted her from the floor before lowering his mouth to hers. She threw her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with a soft, welcoming moan.
Oh, yes, it was a good thing they were married.
Then he picked her up in his arms and carried her over the threshold of her bedroom, old-fashioned to the last.
Thirty
The phone woke Christie out of a deep sleep. Only after several rings did she realize the irritating sound wasn’t part of some dream. Blindly, she fumbled for the receiver.
“Hello,” she said groggily.
“It’s time.” She didn’t recognize the voice.
Christie sat up and shook the hair out of her face. “Time? Time for what? Who is this?”
“Bobby.”
Instantly Christie was wide awake, her heart clamoring. “Are you telling me Teri’s in labor?”
“Yes.” Her brother-in-law sounded odd, nothing like his normal self.
“Where are you?” Christie asked.
“At the birthing center in Silverdale.” His answer was clipped and, most alarming of all, fearful.
“It’s early, isn’t it?” Teri hadn’t quite reached thirty-four weeks; thirty-six would have been more favorable. But she’d obviously gone into labor before the scheduled c-section could take place. A couple of days before, Christie had been to visit her. Teri had, in her own words, looked as big as a house and felt about as uncomfortable as a migraine. Her ankles had swollen and she complained bitterly about the no-salt diet her obstetrician had put her on. Despite her discomfort, it’d been a good visit. The subject of James hadn’t come up even once. That helped.
“Yes, too early…Teri’s afraid,” Bobby continued. “She’s afraid she’s going to lose the babies.”
“I’m on my way.” Christie wasn’t sure what she could do; all she knew was that she had to be with Teri and Bobby. Her sister needed her and Bobby did, too.
“Thank you.” The relief in his voice was palpable.
Christie nearly leaped out of bed and threw on yesterday’s clothes. She didn’t bother with makeup and took only long enough to run a brush through her hair.
Teri was having the babies.
A surge of emotion blasted through her, and she felt like a rocket launched into space. A few minutes earlier she’d been dead to the world. Now she flew around the room, getting ready and, strangest of all, fighting back tears.
Christie wasn’t a weeper. Oh, she l
owered her guard on occasion, but it wasn’t something she made a habit of doing. If she was going to let herself cry every time she experienced emotional distress, she should buy stock in a tissue company.
Ten minutes after Bobby’s phone call, Christie slammed out the door. She suspected the only reason she didn’t get a speeding ticket on the thirty-five-minute drive to Silverdale was the time—2:15 a.m. She took up two parking spaces when she screeched into the lot, then jumped out of the car as if it’d burst into flames.
When she exploded into the foyer at the birthing center she found James Wilbur pacing the area, waiting for her.
Christie stopped cold. In her rush to get to Teri, she’d forgotten about James. Of course he’d be at the hospital. He would’ve driven Teri and Bobby there.
“I have your badge information filled out for you,” he said. “They’ll need to check your identification.”
“A badge?” Her mouth felt dry as she struggled to hide her reaction to seeing him again. It’d been weeks since they’d last spoken. She’d only recently begun to win the battle of keeping thoughts of him at bay.
“Before you’re allowed in the birthing area,” he said in dispassionate tones, “you have to be cleared. As soon as you show your identification, you can have the badge. Without it you won’t be admitted.”
“Oh.” She reached for her purse, took out her driver’s license and was issued the badge.
Once it was in her hand, James said, “I’ll take you.”
“Thank you.” All of a sudden she sounded the way Bobby had on the phone—anxious, uncertain, afraid.
James nodded toward the receptionist, who buzzed them through the double doors. He led Christie down the hallway to a waiting area outside the labor rooms.
“Where’s Bobby?”
“He’s with Teri.”
“Oh.” Of course. So apparently she’d been delegated to sit and wait for news with James. That wouldn’t be so bad, except it meant she’d have to be in the same small space with him.
He stared at her for a moment, then broke eye contact. “I’ll let Bobby know you’re here.”
“Good. Thanks.” Christie sat down on the sofa, sliding to the edge of the cushion, and nervously rubbed her hands.
James returned with Bobby. Her brother-in-law looked terrible. Christie had never seen anyone with less color. Bobby seemed about to collapse.
She got up and walked over to hug him. “Everything’s going to be fine,” she said, although she had no assurance of that.
“Teri’s in pain.”
“I know.”
“But she wants to go through with the labor if she can. And she wouldn’t let the doctors give her anything.”
Christie couldn’t keep from smiling. Knowing her stubborn sister, Teri was probably swearing a blue streak.
Bobby continued, his hands clenched at his sides. “The doctors don’t want anyone in the room but me.”
“I’ll be right outside,” Christie promised. “Just keep me updated, okay?”
Bobby nodded.
“Does Teri want me to call our mother?”
Bobby shook his head. “After, maybe, but not now.”
Christie was in full accord with that decision, although she felt she had to make the offer. Teri hadn’t seen or talked to their mother since Christmas. Neither had Christie, and in her opinion, it was just as well that Ruth had stayed out of the picture.
“Okay,” Christie told him. “Give Teri my love and tell her I’m in the waiting area if she needs anything.”
Bobby nodded again.
“Give her my love, too,” James added.
Bobby hugged Christie, waved at James and returned to the labor room. When he opened the door, Christie heard her sister swearing.
James grinned at her—and, despite herself, Christie smiled back.
They sat in the small waiting room across from each other. In an effort to avoid conversation, Christie picked up a magazine. It sported a Christmas tree on the cover. After flipping idly through the pages, she set it aside and looked at her watch. It was just after three.
When she took a chance and glanced up, she found James studying her. He turned away but not before she caught him.
“What?” she demanded irritably.
“Nothing.”
“Just tell me.” If James had something to say, he might as well spit it out, otherwise they’d both be on edge.
“You don’t want to hear it.”
“You don’t know me as well as you think you do. I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t interested.”
He shrugged. “Fine. You asked, so I’ll tell you.” His eyes met hers. “I was just thinking how much I love you, how much I wish it was you in that labor room, having our baby.” He looked down at his hands. “I was kicking myself for being such a fool and not realizing what I had with you and how much I regret ruining everything.”
James was right about one thing—she didn’t want to hear it. Men had said almost identical words to her before and she’d wanted to believe them. Then, each time, she’d finally recognized that it had all been a spiel, an attempt to get what they wanted—which was exactly what she’d given them. Christie was determined not to fall victim to her own weakness again.
“I don’t believe you,” she muttered.
His shoulders sank and he looked away. When he spoke again, his voice was sad. “I know.”
After that, neither spoke for what felt like hours. James stood and walked out of the waiting room. Christie felt strangely bereft without his presence. She was afraid he wouldn’t return but about ten minutes later he strolled back, carrying two cups of steaming coffee. He handed her one of them, and she thanked him.
Then Bobby appeared, looking even worse than before. “They say the labor’s not progressing.”
It didn’t seem possible that he could be any paler and yet he was.
“They decided to do a caesarean,” he said next. “They’ve already taken Teri into surgery…. I can’t go with her. The doctor said they’re afraid I’ll be in the way.”
“They won’t let you stay with Teri?” The situation must be serious.
“I can wait outside the operating room—but I wanted to let you know what’s happening.”
“Thank you,” Christie whispered. For the first time she was truly afraid for her sister.
Bobby left and she slowly sank back into her chair. James took the one beside her. Again they didn’t speak, but after several minutes he reached for her hand.
Christie knew she should pull away, but she craved the comfort of his touch. As they locked their fingers together, heat seemed to radiate up her arm…and through her entire body.
“Teri and the babies will be fine,” Christie whispered. “My sister’s a trouper.”
Apparently James had nothing to add and after a moment she leaned her head against his shoulder. Then his arm slipped all the way around her….
After another thirty or forty minutes, Bobby raced back into the waiting room, flapping his arms like a bird about to take flight. “Three boys!” he cried. “Perfect, small…but alive. They’re being put in a preemie machine…. Teri’s fine.”
“Names?” Christie managed to ask as she leaped to her feet. Her sight had blurred with tears.
“Names, names… Oh, yes, names. Robbie, for me, Jimmy for James and Christopher for Christie.” Grinning, he hurried back to rejoin his wife and three sons.
Instinctively Christie turned to James. At the same time he turned toward her and then, without even knowing who moved first, they were in each other’s arms, clinging hard.
“I knew everything would be all right,” Christie said with a sob. The truth was, she hadn’t known and had been frantic with worry.
“A little boy named after me,” James whispered into her hair. It seemed almost more than he could take in.
“And me.” Christie felt the same way. She’d never dreamed her sister would do something like this. Teri was close to their brothe
r, Johnny, and Christie had assumed that if she was going to name any of the triplets after a family member, it would be him.
“And Bobby, too,” James said.
Bobby was elated. He wasn’t one to openly display his feelings, but he did now. The love and joy in his face was enough to reduce Christie to another embarrassing rush of tears. She wiped them from her cheeks, using both hands, as James continued to hold her.
“A boy named Jimmy.” His voice was awed.
They still clung to each other and neither seemed willing to let go first. Christie rested her head against James’s chest. She heard the strong, even beat of his heart. James had come back—to Teri and Bobby, to her. He wasn’t like the other men in her life.
Just when Christie was about to speak, they were interrupted.
“Christie?”
James released her and Christie turned to see Rachel Peyton, Teri’s friend from the salon.
“Did Teri have the babies?” Rachel asked eagerly.
Christie broke into a wide grin. “Three boys. Bobby came to tell us a few minutes ago.”
“Are they…?”
“Small but perfect,” Christie said. “I don’t know the exact weights. Bobby was too excited to give us any more details.”
“They’re early.”
“How’d you find out Teri was in labor?” she asked, curious to learn who had contacted Rachel.
“I phoned her,” James said. “Teri asked me to.”
As if her legs were no longer able to support her, Rachel staggered to a chair and sat down.
Christie crouched beside her. “Are you okay?”
Rachel pressed her hand to her heart. “I…I thought I was going to pass out.”
Teri’s friend looked ill. When she closed her eyes, Christie glanced at James, who nodded, obviously aware of what she meant. He left and came back a few minutes later with a nurse.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Rachel insisted, although she seemed anything but fine.
The nurse escorted her into an examining room, and once again James and Christie were alone.
“I feel like I’ve worked an eight-hour shift,” Christie said, suddenly exhausted.
“I do, too.” His smile held her gaze.
“I…I should probably go home and make a few phone calls.” But Christie didn’t want to leave.
Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 3 Page 25
