Baby on the Way

by Lois Richer

  “I do work out!” Jordan frowned, affronted by this slur against his physique. “And I’m very healthy. Aren’t I, Dad?”

  Stan shrugged. “I don’t think it’s healthy to eat so much pie that you try to hide the dishes,” he quipped as he leaned down to kiss Caitlin’s cheek. “Bye, dear. Don’t feed Jordan, okay? He’s getting a pot belly.”

  “I am not.” But he couldn’t resist checking his midsection in the hall mirror in spite of the smothered laughter. “You guys, I am perfectly healthy!”

  “If you say so, dear.” Eliza ignored his grumpy tones. Instead she focused on Caitlin, wrapping a scarf around her throat. She buttoned the top button firmly and then stood back to admire her work.

  “There, now. At the first sign of labor, you call me, Caitlin. Jordan will be no help at all. He’s not good at handling pain.” She winked a big blue eye at the officious hand her son had wrapped beneath Caitlin’s elbow. She didn’t lower her voice at all. “But don’t tell him I said that.”

  “No.” Caitlin agreed with a smug little smile. “It wouldn’t be fair to let Jordan know he’s not great at everything.” She smiled at his snort of disgust.

  The girls all wished her goodbye. As Natasha hugged her, she whispered, “We didn’t overwhelm you, did we?”

  So that’s why she and Olivia had come later than the others. They’d been worried about her. Caitlin felt a nice steady glow of love inside.

  They left the house with good wishes and demands for a return engagement ringing in their ears.

  “I hope they didn’t wear you out,” Jordan’s deep voice broke into her musings as they walked to the car.

  Caitlin rubbed her abdomen absently, wondering why the baby always chose late at night to exercise. Jordan held open the door and she climbed inside, glad to relax against the seat. “Of course not. I like your family, Jordan. I’ve missed Robyn and Natasha and Olivia.”

  His dark eyes studied her solemnly, his voice softly mocking. “They’ve been there all along, Lyn. All you had to do was phone.”

  There was no condemnation. He simply closed her door, walked around and climbed inside as if nothing untoward had happened. The engine started on the first try and soon they were moving, slipping into traffic without difficulty.

  “I know it.” She threaded her fingers together. “It’s my own fault I’ve been alone. I guess I thought I deserved it.” As she said the words, Caitlin realized how lonely she had been for the friendly banter and warm friendship that was so much a part of the Andrews family.

  They both fell silent as Jordan negotiated the car through the busy streets. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though. More of a companionable pause in the conversation. A short time later they were pulling into the driveway of her home.

  Once inside, she slipped her feet into a pair of soft terry slippers, enjoying the snug feel of the soft fabric against her cold toes. Tomorrow she’d buy a new pair of warm, sturdy winter boots, she decided, hanging up her coat and closing the closet door as a waft of fresh cedar filled the hall.

  “I’ll light a fire, shall I?” Jordan stood inside her living room, patiently waiting for her answer.

  “Yes, please.” She smiled as he walked over to the big stone fireplace and removed the wrought iron screen. “I like having a fire.”

  Caitlin glanced around the room, admiring the hominess. There was something about coming back to Wintergreen that cheered her up, warmed her soul. Was it because she knew the others were here, that she wouldn’t be alone? Or was it, she wondered guiltily, because she’d run away from the place where Michael had lived, laughed and loved? Was she trying to escape her past?

  Sinking gratefully into the comforting depths of the sofa, Caitlin lifted her legs onto a nearby hassock. She sighed with relief.

  “Problem?” Jordan turned from his kneeling position in front of her fireplace. The flames licked at the paper and kindling he’d laid.

  “Just calisthenics time.” She smiled. “This kid always chooses the evening to start bouncing around. I hope it’s not a precursor of things to come.”

  She glanced back at him shyly only to find Jordan’s dark gaze fixed on the tiny movements outlined on her abdomen by the thin fabric of her top. As he stared, Caitlin thought she detected a flicker of something in his eyes. Longing?

  “Do you want to feel him?” she asked without thinking, totally unprepared for his immediate response.

  “Yes,” he agreed rapidly, sliding the grate into place before striding over to where she sat. He squatted down beside her, his face telegraphing his discomfiture, letting her know he wasn’t quite sure of the next move.

  Caitlin grasped his big hand in hers and placed it over the rise of her tummy while her eyes remained glued to his face. The baby chose that precise moment to deliver a walloping belt.

  Jordan sucked in his breath, his eyes swiveling to hers. Caitlin couldn’t help but grin at the wonder on his face.

  “That’s just a warm-up,” she told him solemnly.

  “Does it hurt?” His dark head tilted to one side as he stared at her through the clear lenses of his wire-rimmed glasses.

  “Uh-uh,” she denied, sucking in a breath as her abdomen contracted into a hard lump. She closed her eyes to concentrate on the feeling, breathing in and out rhythmically. “Just kind of like a cramp.”

  Jordan’s hand moved in a gentle circle. His voice was so soft, so gentle and full of love, Caitlin barely heard the words as he spoke to his niece or nephew. The voice was mesmerizing and hypnotic, brimming with compassion. She closed her eyes and let it wash over her.

  “Whoa, there, tiger. Your mama has had a long day. Take it easy now and get some sleep.” His hand kept up the gentle, soothing stroke until the contraction had vanished. The baby gave one more vigorous poke before settling down.

  “That’s the way. Sleepy time. Good baby.” His deep voice died away.

  Caitlin opened her eyes to find his face peering into hers, his lips mere inches away. A look of stunned wonder held his dark eyes wide.

  “It’s a tiny little miracle,” he whispered. “Too fantastic to understand. Thank you for sharing it with me.” His lips grazed her cheek for just a second before he moved away, surging to his feet with leashed energy.

  Caitlin sat frozen, afraid to move. Afraid that if she did, she would fling her arms around Jordan’s wide shoulders and bawl her heart out.

  It hurt, it hurt so much. To know that if he’d offered just then, she’d have let Jordan into her life, no questions asked. What was wrong with her? How could she betray Michael and his memory like this? How could she even think of Jordan as this baby’s father? Was she so weak, she’d lean on anyone, rather than get through this herself?

  The questions bit at her like condemning ice pellets, demanding that she face the broil of emotions inside. Caitlin refused to listen any longer. She needed a diversion. When Jordan offered to make tea, she agreed. As he walked toward the kitchen, she got up to listen to the answering machine and hopefully regain some control.

  “Caitlin, it’s Garrett Winthrop. I’d like to speak to you. In private, if you can manage it. Call me, please?”

  “Caitlin, it’s Beth. He called again and he’s really upset. Oh, Cait, what am I going to do?”

  One more beep.

  “Mrs. Andrews? This is Ferd’s Music. Uh, it’s about those songs you asked for, the ones your aunt had. The only way we can get those songs anymore is on some old, secondhand records. Not too many people want CDs of that stuff and, like I told you before, we’re not up on that old time music.” A pause. “So do you think you want old records or what? Should I keep on looking?”

  By the sound of his voice, Ferd Weatherby thought he was dealing with a woman two bricks short of a load. And maybe he was. What made her think Clay Matthews would do any better dancing to old music?

  Caitlin met Jordan’s careful scrutiny when he returned with her brown Betty teapot. He poured out two cups, set one down on the coffee table an
d motioned her to sit. The other he carried with him to his chair.

  “Who left you those messages?”

  “My, er, projects. They, um, want my help.”

  “Projects? As in more than one?” he queried, one eyebrow tilted upward “I thought it was just Matthews.”

  “It is. Or it was. Now Garrett Winthrop wants to see me, and Beth needs to talk. They used to be an item once.”

  She took a sip of the tea he’d poured, grimaced, then quickly returned the cup to its saucer.

  “Is something wrong? I thought you liked sweet tea?”

  Though she searched his eyes, there wasn’t a hint of malice there. That meant this disgusting concoction had to be an accident.

  “Yes, I, er, I do.” She left the cup where it was, barely able to swallow after the syrupy mouthful she’d just imbibed. “Now about Clay. I was wondering if you’d help me out.”

  He gave her an odd look. “Help you with Clayton Matthews?”

  “Well, sort of. I want to have a party, a kind of housewarming. And I thought it would be fun to invite a group of people.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, Maryann and Beth will already be here, after all, they live here now. And Amy, and Beth’s sister Ronnie. It can be their housewarming, too. And I want to invite Clay because he’s my friend.” She opened her eyes wide and refused to look guilty. “He is!”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And Garrett and Beth always used to get along.”

  “How about Peter…”

  “No!” she wailed and then realized how strange that sounded. “Uh, maybe next time, Jordan. I don’t want too many people around. Especially with me in this condition, I mean.” Her cheeks heated when he met her gaze and held it.

  “And these other ‘friends’ aren’t going to wear you out? But Peter will.” He raised one eyebrow. “Clear as mud, Lyn.”

  “It’s just a little open house. People do that, you know.” She ignored the knowing look in his eyes.

  “Hmm. Isn’t it odd that you’ve got them all paired off?” When she wouldn’t meet his gaze, he sighed loudly. “All right. What do you want me to do?”

  “Play host.”

  “I don’t know Garrett or Clayton that well, Lyn. And your roommates I see only occasionally.” He tilted his head to one side, his glasses drooping to the end of his nose and he peered over them. “I get it. You’re matchmaking, right?”

  “Not really.” She shrugged when one arrogant eyebrow arched even higher. “I’m not! I just want them to get together and talk. Then maybe they can see how much the other has changed, that this isn’t high school. Maybe they can forget the mistakes of the past.”

  “Let bygones be bygones, start afresh.” He groaned, putting his cup on the table with a thud. “I know I’m going to regret this.”

  “No, you’re not. It’s just a social evening, Jordan. Nothing to get all excited about.” She averted her head from his too perceptive stare. “I’ll put on some music, we’ll talk, it’ll be great.”

  “Caitlin, these people have histories. I don’t think they can just take up where they left off and develop a lifelong love, or they would have done it already.” He rose, walked around the table and sank down onto his haunches in front of her, one hand clasping hers.

  “We’ve changed, all of us. You and I included. Time and distance does that to people. Affections change, too.”

  She stared down at him, wondering at the stain of red on his cheekbones. Did that mean he didn’t care for her at all? Of course, he never had, had he? It had been her schoolgirl crush, all those years ago. Jordan had escaped as quickly as he could by dumping her on Michael.

  Caitlin came back to the present with a jerk when Jordan, now flushed and discomfited, got up rather quickly and flopped back into his chair.

  “What I’m trying to say is that the love they once felt, or that you think they felt, might be gone forever.”

  “It hasn’t.” She refused to believe that, not after talking to Beth and Maryann. There was something there, some spark that just needed a little nurturing. They deserved to find happiness.

  “Okay. Nobody can say I didn’t try.” He raked a hand through his hair, mussing it worse than usual. “But you’re not to go to a bunch of fuss. I’ll get Mom to make some punch and I’ll buy some chips and stuff.”

  “No.” Caitlin swallowed down her dismay, trying not to let him see that she didn’t want Eliza involved in such delicate matters of the heart. “I’ll buy some of those frozen hors d’oeuvres or something so there’s not a lot of work. I want to make my housewarming an occasion to remember.”

  “I’m pretty sure it will be that.” His forehead pleated. “But fair warning. You may not want to remember it when those four see each other here.” He shook his head. “You may wish you’d left them alone to get on with their lives.”

  “I won’t.”

  Jordan knew she was up to something. Caitlin could see it in his face. Too bad. She was going to do this, with or without him. It would just be a little simpler if she had him there. It would be nice to have him there to lean on.

  “Thank you, Jordan,” she murmured. “I appreciate your help. With everything.”

  “Don’t be silly.” His voice was brusque with gruff courtesy. “I haven’t done anything. Yet. And you may regret asking me to help out, you know.” He held up a hand before she could get the words out. “I know. Don’t tell my mother.” He sighed heavily. “Fine.”

  “Thank you, Jordan. You’re a peach!” She grinned at him, thrilled that he didn’t even attempt to argue.

  “A peach? First my own family tells me I’m fat, and now you call me a peach.” He shook his head in disgust. “Wonderful. Just wonderful.”

  Caitlin giggled. “No, really. I mean it. I appreciate this.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Good grief, Lyn, I’m not going to have to dance with him. Am I?”

  She giggled, the very idea conjuring up a myriad of hilarious scenes in her head. “I don’t think so. I wasn’t planning on including dancing.”

  “Good. Those big boots of his could be mighty uncomfortable on my delicate toes.”

  She felt his questioning glance study her more closely, searching for an answer to a question he didn’t ask.

  “Take it easy tomorrow. I’ll come round after church and see if you need anything.” He paused, his face tight with tension, as if something was bothering him.

  “Really, Jordan,” Caitlin protested, hoping her words would deter him from asking yet again. “That isn’t necessary. I’ll be fine. I just need a good night’s sleep.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d consider coming with me? Sing some hymns, hear the message, that sort of thing?” His voice was softly pleading.

  She saw the glint of gold flash in those dark eyes as he studied her. Then he bent his head, one curling lock of hair falling over his brow.

  “Right,” was all he said, but Caitlin knew he got the point. She wasn’t going to church tomorrow or anytime soon. She knew that Jordan would insist on coming over after, though.

  “I’ll see you in the morning then.” He got up from the sofa and snatched his coat from the chair where he’d thrown it. “Try to get some rest, okay?”

  She nodded. “I will. Thanks.”

  “Stop thanking me,” he grumbled, preceding her to the door. “I’ll start to wonder if there’s something else wrong with me.”

  “There is.” She giggled. “But we’ll save that for some other time, when you’re feeling tougher.”

  He shook his head, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. Then, before she realized what was happening, Jordan leaned down and brushed her cheek with his lips.

  “Good night, Lyn.”

  “Good night, Jordan.” She watched him drive away before she closed the door and wandered back inside her cozy apartment.

  In a way she was relieved he kept dropping in. It was so nice to have Jordan around, taking care of her, managing some of the things she was just pl
ain too tired to deal with. Besides, his company was restful and interesting at the same time.

  Although it would never do to admit to it.

  Neither would it do to question too closely her pleasure in having him around. Certain things were best not probed too deeply.

  Especially the rush of pleasure she’d felt when he’d kissed her, innocent though the embrace was. Strangely enough, she wished he’d held her.

  Why, when she was demanding to stand on her own, did she feel bereft whenever Jordan Andrews left her home?

  Chapter Seven

  “Pregnancy and housecleaning do not go together.” Caitlin surveyed the newly acquired gleam of her bathroom with a grimace. “But Junior, you’ve got to admit, this place is spotless.”

  Her first week of maternity leave and she was cleaning the bathroom. It hadn’t been easy. The bathtub looked fairly routine, but at this stage in the maternal journey nothing was simple anymore. The sheer width of her body made cleaning in the crevices an arduous task at best, but she finished anyway. For some reason, a clean bathroom seemed important today.

  As she rinsed off her rubber gloves and stored them in the caddy under the sink, one hand slipped round her hips to rub a tender spot. It wasn’t a new ache. It had been paining her for days. Deliberately Caitlin turned away from her reflection in the full-length mirror, refusing to acknowledge it or her sore back.

  “I’m fine, this is normal. I’m perfectly healthy and nothing is going to go wrong. Right, Junior?” She patted her stomach with a smile and got a swift kick of reassurance. “Right.”

  She wandered down the hall to glance once more at the baby’s room. It stood waiting in the lateafternoon shadows, ready to welcome its new inhabitant. In the corner, the dresser was stuffed with tiny clothes Jordan’s mother had either made or purchased over the past week. Eliza sent the various items with Jordan on his daily visit to boss her around.

  She bent down to check the mural, then straightened in relief. No, there wasn’t a snake there. Yet. She wondered how long it would be before he tried to sneak in that, or the boat Jordan continually insisted on discussing.