Taking a Chance

by Maggie McGinnis

  Quite a few of the items had already been checked off, and he pictured the glee with which she’d probably made those check marks.

  On the other page was a whole different kind of list, and as he scanned it, he smiled. It was the same kind of list he’d made himself one day four years ago, sitting on a barstool at the café he hadn’t yet dared to open.

  Ride Honeydrop every possible day was there, along with Let Ma teach me how to cook. She had serious things and silly things, but the last one felled him.

  Get over Jasper.

  He sighed, sitting back. So it wasn’t just him. Over the past couple of weeks, as he’d watched her find her way at Shady Acres, he’d seen her smile and laugh and talk like she had the world by the horns. She’d seemed content, happy…fine. She hadn’t seemed like a woman trying to get over someone, most especially him.

  But here it was, in her loopy little writing.

  And he couldn’t help how happy that three-word sentence suddenly made him feel.

  He closed the binder, knowing that if she woke up and found it open on the table, she’d suspect he’d looked at her private thoughts—even if they were mostly work-related. Then he looked at the journal and shook his head. He might be nosy enough to check out her work binder, but a personal journal was a whole different level of invasion. He’d never go there.

  He lifted it to place it on top of the binder, and when he did, a piece of paper half the size of an index card fluttered out. He reached for it.

  Then he froze.

  Chapter 26

  The next morning, Emma woke in a fog, still dizzy and nauseous after a fitful night’s sleep. She tried to sit up, then fell back on her pillows when her stomach threatened to revolt. She had a moment of panic, wondering how everyone at Shady Acres was holding up—wondering who else had come down with this evil bug, and who had recovered enough to get back to work.

  Her bedroom door was half-open, and she felt a lightning-sized jolt when she spotted the backside of none other than Jasper Stone standing at her counter, looking out the window.

  She closed her eyes. Had he been here all night? She looked at the clock, then felt her eyes widen. It was eight o’clock—if he was here, who was manning the café?

  He turned around then, as if he’d heard her. His face was serious, troubled, and the way his eyes shifted away from hers sent alarms ringing in her gut. They didn’t help the nausea much.

  “Morning, sunshine,” he said, coming to the door. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I got run over by a Mack truck, thanks.” She pulled up the blankets, not sure what she actually had on for pajamas. “Did you—stay?”

  He nodded. “Not so easy to leave a woman who practically takes you down in the middle of a hallway, even though she doesn’t weigh enough to hurt a flea.”

  “I’m so, so sorry.” Emma felt her cheeks go hot as she pictured what the scene must have looked like. “I was fine, and then I—wasn’t.”

  “It’s okay. I’m just glad we were there to catch you. I had no idea Katrina could move so fast.”

  “Ugh.” She closed her eyes. “Hey, who opened the café if you’re here?”

  “Couple of my guys.” He shrugged. “They’re good for an early-morning shift if I bribe them well enough.”

  “Thank you. I’m really sorry. You should—go. I’m sure you have a million things to do. I’m fine. I’ll just—I’ll be fine.”

  “No rush,” he said. “You want to try some coffee or something? Ma sent down some soup last night.”

  At the words coffee and soup, her stomach sent a very clear message, and she shook her head. “I think I’d better wait a bit.”

  “Okay.” He stood there, coffee in one hand, looking so adorably scruffy that she wanted to haul him into bed, despite how terrible she felt. His eyes met hers, and in them she saw a swirl of emotions.

  If she’d known him better, she might know which ones she was seeing.

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  He paused for another long moment, then took a deep breath. “Tell me about Charlotte.”

  Emma sat up straight, the blankets falling down around her. “What?”

  “I was just straightening things up, I swear. I wasn’t looking at your stuff. But”—he held up a piece of paper she’d had in her hand ten thousand times, at least—“this fell out of your book.”

  “Jasper.” Emma heard her voice come out but almost didn’t recognize it. It was a voice raw and pained and oh-so-violated.

  He stepped into the room, walking slowly toward her so he could set the baby footprint on her blanket.

  “Who is she?” he asked, his voice soft and curious, tentative as he sat carefully in the rocker beside her bed.

  —

  “She can hold her for a minute,” a nurse said, shooting dagger-eyes at Emma’s father.

  “It’ll only make it worse,” he growled.

  “With all due respect, nothing can make this worse.” The nurse stepped around him, a blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms.

  “The parents are waiting in the hall.”

  “I know how it works, Mr. Winthrop. Now if you’d kindly leave the room, we will be with you shortly.”

  She held his eyes as Emma watched from the bed, fearful. Nobody stood up to her father. Nobody. It just wasn’t done.

  “Five minutes,” he finally said, throwing a disgusted glance Emma’s way. “No more.”

  The nurse didn’t reply—just held the baby and his glare until he’d backed out of the room. Then she walked quickly to Emma.

  “Do you want to hold her? Because you don’t have to. It will make it harder—he’s right. But I wanted you to have the option.”

  Emma nodded, reaching desperately for the baby. “Please. Yes.”

  The nurse placed the bundle in her arms, tucking the blanket away from the baby’s face so Emma could see her.

  “She’s beautiful. She has your nose.”

  Emma smiled through tears, touching the baby’s tiny, precious nose.

  “This wasn’t your choice, was it?” The nurse’s voice was quiet as she rubbed Emma’s shoulder.

  “It wasn’t,” Emma whispered, stroking her fingers over the tiny cheeks as tears cascaded down her own. “I wanted her. I do want her.”

  “Oh, sweetie.” The nurse brushed her hair back from her face, her voice so, so soft. “Someday it’s going to be the right time. You’ll have another chance.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you have a name picked out?”

  “The parents get to name her.”

  “Yes, they will. But you get to name her first. You whisper her name in her ears, and maybe someday the two of you will find each other again.” She patted Emma’s shoulder. “Now, I’m going to lock that door and find some very busy things to do for the next fifteen minutes. That’s probably the best I can get you before they get someone to create an ugly scene. You hold that baby close and you memorize her scent, and you talk to her. She’ll remember you, honey. She’ll remember you.”

  And then she was gone, through a connecting door to another delivery room, and Emma was alone with the baby.

  “Hi, little one,” she said, trying to corral her tears. “I’m your mommy.”

  She took a shaky breath. “I have loved you since the moment I found out about you, and I’ll never, ever stop loving you.”

  The baby yawned and opened her little eyes, which made Emma smile. Lord, she was sweet, all soft skin and pudge. Her tiny fingers gripped Emma’s pinky, and Emma studied the little nails for long minutes. She had Winthrop fingers.

  She tried to memorize her features, bent close to inhale her baby scent, pulled the baby to her neck so she could cuddle her close.

  “Charlotte,” she whispered. “Your name is Charlotte, after your great-grandmother.”

  And then the door clicked, and the nurse came back.

  “I’m sorry, honey. It’s time.”

  “I know.” Emma bit her lip. The
last thing she wanted to do was drip tears on her precious baby.

  “Give her a kiss.”

  Emma held her close, studying her face, then kissed her forehead carefully.

  And then the nurse slid her hands under Charlotte’s blanket and lifted her.

  “Let go, honey.”

  “I can’t,” Emma sobbed. “She’s mine. She’s mine.”

  Another nurse appeared, tears in her eyes. “It’s okay, sweetie. She’s going to have a gorgeous life.”

  “No!” Emma held on harder. “No!”

  Charlotte emitted a teeny squawk, and Emma just about lost her mind. It was her job to comfort this baby. It was her job to feed her and change her and stay up all night with her.

  “Let go, sweetheart.” The second nurse’s voice was strong, as was her grip as she loosened Emma’s. “It’s going to be all right.”

  And then the sweet, warm, tiny weight of the baby was gone. The first nurse was out the door and in the hallway, and the second one stayed close to Emma, hand on her shoulder as she shook.

  “Mine,” she sobbed. “She’s mine.”

  Chapter 27

  “He forced you to give her up.” Jasper’s voice was shocked, pained, and it rocked Emma back to the present.

  “Things like unplanned teenage pregnancies don’t happen to Winthrops,” she said, miserable. “Especially ones who are supposed to be applying to med school, not finding a pediatrician for a surprise baby.”

  “Did the father—did he have any say? Did your father let him?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “In a move straight out of another century, Dad basically locked me in the house, hired a tutor to homeschool me, and told everyone I’d gone to Paris to spend my senior year.”

  “I can’t picture you standing for that.”

  “I’m not the same person now that I was then, Jasper.” She shook her head, remembering endless days of lying on her bed, feeling the baby kick, plotting ways to run away. “He had me convinced that I’d soiled the Winthrop name forever, that no college would look twice at me if they knew, that my poor little sister’s reputation would be ruined, as well, just by association.”

  “Good God.”

  “I’m not proud.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not proud of the stupid, rebellious idiot I was to let it happen in the first place. I’m not proud that I didn’t figure out how to escape the house and run away somewhere to have the baby myself. I’m not proud that I let him brainwash me into thinking I’d failed at life at age seventeen.”

  She shrugged. “But I was seventeen. What do you know at seventeen?”

  “Not a hell of a lot.” He sighed, then stood up and came to sit on the bed beside her, taking her hand in his. “Do you have any idea—”

  “No.” She shook her head miserably. “It was a closed adoption. He never wanted the baby to be able to find me, and the adoptive parents were all too happy to pretend she was theirs from the start. She’ll have no idea she ever had another mother.”

  “I’m so sorry, Emma. So hellishly sorry this happened to you, and so sorry you never got to know her, or be her mother.”

  “Well, me, too.” Emma nodded, squeezing his hand. “Thanks for listening.”

  “Thanks for telling me.”

  She cleared her throat, trying to shake off the memories and lighten the mood. “You’re the nosy Nellie who found her footprint and made me.”

  “I’m glad I did. Can’t lie.” He ran a hand up her jaw, stroking his thumb against her cheek. “There’s a lot more to Emma Winthrop than meets the eye.”

  “Yes, there is,” she whispered. “Too bad you didn’t stick around to find out.”

  —

  Later that afternoon, Kyla knocked on Emma’s door, holding up ginger ale and saltine crackers, and Emma looked up from where she was sitting on the couch.

  “You’re brave, coming down here again. Don’t touch anything I might have touched.”

  Kyla opened the door. “I’m not afraid. And you need sustenance.”

  “I just had soup, actually. And it’s staying where it belongs, so…progress.”

  Kyla set the soda and crackers on the table, along with another little bag. “How long have you been feeling sick? Just curious about this bug, in case it shows up here.”

  “Um, maybe a week or so? It’s been creeping up on me gradually, I think, and then ka-bam. Took me down.”

  “So…nausea? Dizziness? Fainting?”

  Emma tipped her head. “Yes. The same thing everybody else has.”

  Kyla sat down on the edge of the couch, cringing a little. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. The entire nursing home is on lockdown because of it. How could I not be sure?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I was just—I don’t know. The timing of it, is all.”

  “What timing? What are you talk—” Emma broke off, her eyes going wide as she realized exactly what Kyla was talking about.

  “Yeah. That.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Not possible. No way. We were totally, one hundred percent careful.”

  “I’m sure you were.”

  “One night. That’s all it was. One. I mean, seriously.” Her hand went to her stomach, which was threatening again. “No.”

  “Okay.” Kyla put up her hands. “I just wanted to raise the possibility. I’m sure you were careful.”

  Emma’s head started swirling faster than her stomach. What if—oh, God! What if!

  “Don’t freak out yet.” Kyla put a hand on her knee. “Just get your calendar.”

  Emma shook her head. She knew damn well when her last period had been. And she knew—now that she took a god-awful freaking-out moment to think about it—that it should have come by now.

  “Kyla?” Her voice sounded like a little girl’s as she crossed her arms carefully over her tender stomach.

  “Are you late?”

  “I think so? But with the stress of this new job, and just—everything, I haven’t paid attention. But I’m on birth control to regulate—never mind. TMI.” She shook her head. There was no way, right? It was just stress, messing with her body. “No. It’s not possible.”

  “Okay. But if you want to check for sure, I had an extra test in my cabinet. I brought it down here, just in case.”

  Emma looked at the table. “Oh, God.”

  “Maybe just take it? Then you’ll know?”

  “It’s just a bug. It has to be just a bug. Everyone has this bug.”

  “I know.” Kyla nodded. “But everyone else has been done with it in twenty-four hours. You’re going on a week here.”

  She stood up and went to get the bag from the table. “Here. Just go see.”

  “Did I mention the part about ‘oh, God?’ Because I am praying very hard right now.”

  “It’ll be okay. Whatever the result, it’ll be okay.”

  Emma inhaled carefully, then took the bag and headed to the bathroom.

  Five minutes later, she emerged. “Do you have another one?”

  “Why?”

  “Because this one’s…broken.”

  Chapter 28

  “You have to tell him.” Lauren’s voice was firm on the phone an hour later.

  “I know. I will. I know. But I can’t even think straight right now, Lauren. How? How could this happen?”

  “Well, how careful were you?”

  “I’m on the Pill!”

  “Emma?” Lauren’s voice went quiet. “Weren’t you on antibiotics when you left Florida?”

  Oh. Holy. Mother. Of God.

  Emma put her hand to her forehead. “How could I have been so stupid?”

  “Not stupid. Maybe not thinking on all cylinders, but definitely not stupid.”

  “What am I going to do?”

  “Well? Have a baby, for one.”

  “That’s not funny.” Emma envisioned her tiny condo in Florida, then tried to imagine it full of baby gear.

  “Emma? You’re n
ot—you wouldn’t—”

  “God, no.” She put a protective hand on her stomach. “Never.”

  “Does Galway have a San Diego branch? Because you could always move out here. I can help you.”

  Emma sighed. “Thank you. I appreciate that. But I think—I think I need to figure it out myself. I got myself into this.”

  “Well, you had a little help. Just saying.”

  “Yes, but that help went AWOL the morning after. Just saying.” Emma’s hands started shaking. “Can’t imagine how far this news might send him. Orbit, maybe.”

  “Have you considered not telling him?”

  “Yes.”

  She had. She wasn’t proud of that, but she had.

  But it was for legitimate reasons, not because she wanted to flee with his baby and rob him of the chance to play daddy. If the man wasn’t even ready for a relationship with someone, then he damn well wasn’t ready to get a big bunch of blue balloons and a Surprise! card.

  She thought she might throw up again.

  “And?” Lauren prompted.

  “And I will tell him. I will. But maybe after I’ve let it settle in for a few hours, okay?”

  “You know, I might be out of line suggesting this, but have you considered the possibility that he might be happy about it?”

  “Did you take too much cough medicine? Are you nuts?”

  “No to both. But really, maybe just allow that possibility into your calculations before you convince yourself you’d better run to the nearest nunnery and live out your pregnancy in solitude.”

  “No nunneries here.”

  “If he’s the guy you’ve been saying he is, then I think he’s going to do the right thing here, Emma. I really think he is.”

  “Honestly, Lauren, that’s my worst fear right now.”

  “Explain. Because that makes zero sense.”

  Emma sighed, looking out the window at the darkening sky. “He’s a good guy. He’s a ridiculously good guy. He will want to do the right thing.”

  “And that’s a problem how?”

  “That’s a problem because I’ll never know if he did it because he wanted to, or because he wouldn’t dream of making another choice.”