by Lisa Jordan
“Melissa, your face is as white as my whipped cream. Maybe we should go. I can drive you home and stay with you until Nate comes home.”
“Oh, no, I don’t want to do that. It’s just a minor backache. At this stage of my pregnancy, I can’t get comfortable, no matter what I do.”
Lindsey glanced at her friend’s belly bump. Should she ask? Who else could she trust with such a question? “What’s it like being pregnant?”
Melissa’s brown eyes held a tender understanding. She smiled. “Scary. Exciting. It’s the most incredible feeling knowing there is a life growing inside you. At times, I wonder how I’m going to handle everything.”
“What does Nate think about all of this?”
“Oh, he’s over the moon. Constantly telling me to rest. Helping around the house. Fixing dinner. Don’t you dare tell him I told you—” she looked around, then lowered her head to whisper behind her hand as if giving away government secrets “—but when we learned I was pregnant, he cried. He prays over the baby every night before bed. He’s going to be such a great dad.”
Lindsey blew on a spoonful of chili and then shoved it in her mouth. Still too hot. At least she could pretend the sudden tears were from physical pain and not the twist of her heart. She couldn’t be happier for Melissa, but she wanted her turn. Her turn to find that special guy. Her turn to feel a baby kicking inside her. Her turn to have happiness.
Bells above the door jingled. Lindsey looked up as Stephen entered the café. She straightened in her seat and forced herself to pay attention to Melissa’s chatter. Anything to keep her eyes from watching him walk to the counter. Or admiring the way he filled out the jacket of his charcoal-colored suit.
After their talk yesterday, she wasn’t ready to talk with him. She needed some time to sort out the jumbled emotions tossing like waves inside her heart. Why couldn’t he be a jerk? It would make staying away from him so much easier.
Stephen strolled over to their table, one hand in the pocket of his trousers. He leaned over, kissed Melissa’s cheek and smiled at Lindsey. He grabbed an empty chair from another table, turned it around and straddled it. “Josie’s white chicken chili must be the reason why the place is so crowded today.”
Melissa cast a quick glance between Lindsey and Stephen, raising an eyebrow as if to ask Lindsey “You okay with this?”
Lindsey gave her a subtle nod.
Melissa brushed invisible lint from Stephen’s lapel. “You clean up nice. What’s the deal with the suit?”
Stephen rolled his eyes. “Another exciting day in court. I came in for a coffee to go before heading back to the station. Enjoy your lunch, ladies.” Standing, he returned the chair to the other table and sauntered to the counter.
Lindsey had to restrain herself from not swiveling in her seat to watch his every step. She pushed her napkin onto the floor. As she leaned down to pick it up, she watched as Stephen filled his foam cup with coffee. His jacket stretched across his shoulders. He turned to pour milk into his cup, caught Lindsey’s eye and winked.
Busted.
She snatched her napkin and straightened in her chair. She took a big bite of chili as Stephen passed by their table. Heading toward the door, he was stopped by one of the Tea Grannies. They turned to look at Lindsey and then back at Stephen. One of them patted him on the arm. He laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls and slamming into Lindsey’s heart.
“Interesting.”
“What is?” Lindsey asked, still watching Stephen.
“You.”
That got Lindsey’s attention. “What about me?”
Melissa grinned. “You can’t keep your eyes off my brother. And don’t you dare try to deny it. What’s going on with you two?”
“Nothing. There’s nothing going on between us. Absolutely nothing.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing?”
“Don’t mock me.”
“Kind of funny how you had to say it three times. Convincing me or yourself?”
“Melissa, you’re imagining things. We’ve talked a few times and that’s it.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
“I heard about what happened yesterday. I’m sorry.”
Lindsey covered her face and shook her head. “I’m such a baby at times. I just need to get over it. But walking into that church—”
“Oh, honey, no one thinks you’re a baby. Everyone deals with grief in their own way. You were double whammied. Stephen told me about your talk yesterday.”
“Another thing to add to the list of humiliating things Lindsey Porter says or does.”
“You shouldn’t feel that way. But I am wondering how you feel about my big brother.”
“What I feel doesn’t matter. That was in the past. We lead different lives now.”
Melissa gasped, grabbed the table with one hand and hugged her abdomen with the other.
Lindsey took one look at her friend’s suddenly pale face, jumped out of her chair and circled the table. “That’s it. I’m taking you home. No arguments.”
Melissa clutched her arm. “Get Stephen.”
“Honey, I can drive you home. I’ll stay until Nate gets back.”
Melissa shook her head and laughed. “I need to go to the hospital, Linds. My water just broke.”
“Don’t worry, bro. I’ll handle it.” Stephen snapped his phone shut and clenched it. A ticking time bomb in his hands. He leaned against the wall outside Melissa’s birthing suite, loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt. He scrubbed a hand over his face.
Handle it. Right.
He was the fortunate one who had to break the news to his baby sister that neither her husband nor her parents were going to make it in time for the baby’s birth if the kid was coming as fast as the nurse predicted. He was her only option. Yeah, that was going to go over well.
With his parents at an estate auction in Ohio and Nate at least two hours away at the district ministerial conference, that left Stephen as the birthing coach.
He could do this. Stressful situations were the norm for his job. But he wasn’t working right now. His sidearm was locked at the station. And his backup consisted of a woman who counted down the days until this town became a memory. He schooled his expression. No need for Melissa to know his insides were going through the meat grinder.
Please, God, keep them safe.
Stephen pushed away from the wall and returned to Melissa’s room.
Lindsey sat in a padded rocking chair next to the bed, giving Mel a hand massage. The panic he heard less than an hour ago when she’d yelled for him at Josie’s was gone. She jawed with Mel like two girls at a sleepover. His sister laughed at something Lindsey had said. What happened to the screaming and wailing he saw on TV when a woman went into labor?
As if on cue, Melissa’s face twisted into a grimace. She grabbed a handful of the pastel-pink sheets and twisted.
Lindsey kept her eyes on her watch, but gripped Melissa’s hand. “Breathe through it, Mel. That’s it. You can do it, sweetie.”
Melissa gritted her teeth, panting like a dog begging for water. Sweat slicked her forehead. Damp curls coiled around her cheeks. She lay back against the pillow.
Lindsey wrung out a cloth and placed it on his sister’s forehead. He stood near the foot of her bed with his hands in his pockets, completely clueless about what he should do.
Oh, man. He was so out of his league. And it had nothing to do with the cloud-printed wallpaper or the delivery room designed to look like someone’s bedroom. Truth was, there were some things he just did not need to know about his sister. Being present at her baby’s birth probably topped the list.
Melissa looked at him with watery eyes. “Did you get ahold of Nate?”
“Yes. He’s on his way, but still about ninety minutes out.”
“Well, he’d better step it up. This baby doesn’t seem to want to waaiitttt.” She clutched Lindsey’s hand and breathed a “hee hee hee” thro
ugh that last syllable. A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye. “What about Mom? Where is she? I can’t do this alone.”
“Honey, you’re not alone. I’m here with you.”
“Don’t honey me. What do you know about being a labor coach? You weren’t even around when Ty was born.”
“Stephen, go find a nurse. Her contractions are two minutes apart.”
He turned to leave, but the nurse chose that second to check on his sister.
In his heart, he knew Mel’s crankiness was due to her pain, but her words scored a direct hit. His knowledge of labor and delivery came from his first-aid training. Textbooks were nothing like the real deal.
He wasn’t there when his own kid had entered the world. He had unknowingly gotten Bethany pregnant and disappeared from her life for almost three years. What had she gone through? Was she alone? She had no family, no husband.
It was too late to make it up to Bethany, but he wasn’t about to let Mel go through this alone, even though he had no clue what he was doing.
Stephen’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out. The caller ID displayed the number for the Shelby Lake Elementary School. He flipped it open. “Hello.”
“Dad, I missed my bus. Can you pick me up?”
Chapter Eleven
Lindsey inserted Stephen’s key into the dead bolt, turned it and then hesitated before pushing the door open. Any second now she would enter his domain. The house he had shared with his wife. The same type of house they had dreamed of building someday.
“What’s a matter? Door stuck?” Tyler dropped his backpack at his feet and looked up at her through his shaggy hair.
Lindsey gave it a nudge with her shoulder and pushed it open. “Not anymore.” She couldn’t tell a seven-year-old why she didn’t want to go in his house.
Tyler ducked under her arm and dragged his backpack behind him, disappearing down the hall. She heard a door open and close.
She kicked off her shoes, leaving them on the tiled area by the front door, and stepped into a spacious living room with a cathedral ceiling and exposed wood beams. She dropped her purse on the beige-and-hunter-green plaid couch that faced a large stone fireplace. Pictures of a woman holding Tyler smiled from the gleaming wooden mantel.
Bethany.
Newspapers and magazines littered the chunky square coffee table. A corner wall unit held a flat-screen TV, gaming system, DVD player and a stereo. Toy cars, racetrack pieces and wooden building blocks littered the oatmeal-colored carpet. A pile of unfolded laundry spilled over the arm of the dark green recliner. Her eyes were drawn to the open Bible resting on the table beside the recliner.
When she had offered to pick up Ty, leaving Stephen with Melissa, he had hedged about the condition of the house. So this is what “kind of a mess” meant.
She didn’t care. The room was cozy, the kind of room where you could relax at the end of a long day. Lindsey could easily picture herself curled up in the corner chair next to the large window with a good book while the kids played on the floor near her feet. Or even a dog lying on the half-moon rug in front of the fireplace.
Oh, Linds, how low have you sunk, fantasizing about another woman’s house?
Tyler came back into the living room munching on an apple. He took a bite and wiped his mouth on his shirtsleeve. Plopping on the couch, he dug through the pile of papers on the coffee table, unearthed the remote and then flicked on the TV. SpongeBob’s laughter filled the otherwise silent room.
Lindsey wasn’t quite sure what she should do. Did he have homework? Did Stephen give him a set TV time? What did he like for dinner? She didn’t think to ask Stephen before leaving the hospital. He was preoccupied with Melissa’s increasing contractions.
“Hey, Ty. You hungry?”
Tyler shrugged, not taking his eyes off SpongeBob and Patrick.
Okay.
She wandered down the short hall that opened into a combination kitchen and dining area. Stainless-steel appliances smudged with fingerprints, granite countertops in tones of black and glass-fronted cabinets gave the kitchen a contemporary, yet traditional, feel.
A bowl of apples sat on the rectangular dining table. Six black chairs begged for a family to be seated and enjoy a home-cooked meal.
Lindsey turned away for a moment as the pang of what could have been stung her heart once again. Her hand moved over the smooth stainless refrigerator. Stephen had great taste. Or Bethany.
She pulled the door open and found a half-full gallon of milk, a quart of orange juice, a tub of margarine, a carton of eggs and assorted condiments on the doors. Somebody needed to do some grocery shopping. She moved on to the freezer, which brimmed with frozen pizzas, kids’ meals, TV dinners, chicken nuggets and French fries. Where was the meat? The vegetables? How could they live on processed foods?
Didn’t Stephen realize… She stopped. Give the guy a break. Stephen was doing his best. She had to remember that. In his situation, she’d probably live on cereal and yogurt.
“I guess I am hungry after all.” Tyler pulled out one of the stools and sat at the island in the middle of the kitchen area. He rested his chin on two fists. “Can I have chicken nuggets? Please?”
Lindsey fixed him chicken nuggets. She found cans of green beans and pears in one of the cabinets, so she added those to his meal, figuring there had to be at least a little nutrition somewhere in there.
After dinner, she helped Ty with his spelling. They talked about his school while they cleaned the kitchen, including running the full dishwasher. They played with his cars, and then a game of checkers where Tyler cleaned the board with his kings. She helped him pick up his toys and promised to read a story when it was time for bed.
Tyler picked out a movie from his vast collection and curled up on the couch by Lindsey to watch it. He ended up with his head in her lap. As the credits rolled, Ty fought to keep his eyes open.
“Hey, guy, let’s get you into bed.” She wanted him to stay in her lap forever, but he needed a decent night’s sleep.
Ty rubbed his eyes. “I want to wait for my dad.”
“How about I tuck you in and when your dad comes home, I’ll make sure he comes in to let you know he’s home?”
They walked hand in hand down the hall to Tyler’s room. Blue walls with a Spider-Man border and Spider-Man comforter decorated his room. He put on pajamas and shuffled into the bathroom to brush his teeth.
Without a word, he knelt beside his bed and folded his hands. He said “Amen” and scurried into bed under the covers Lindsey had just pulled back. “Thanks for bringing me home from the cemetery that day. I hate storms.”
Lindsey tucked the blankets under Tyler’s chin and smoothed his hair back from his face just like she wanted to do that day in the cemetery. “I didn’t want you to have to ride your bike home in the rain and get your cast all wet.”
“I picked some flowers for my mommy. Do you think she could see them from Heaven?”
Lindsey blinked back sudden tears and nodded. “I’m sure she could. And you know what else? I think she loved them very much.”
Tyler rolled over on his side and perched on his elbow. “You wanna see a picture of her?” At Lindsey’s nod, he reached under his bed, pulled out a photo album and handed it to her.
She traced the foil imprinting of two hands and a heart on the front cover. Opening the album, a young woman with strawberry blond hair holding an infant smiled at her from the first worn page. She didn’t look old enough to have a child.
“My mom said it was her favorite picture. I keep it in my pillow when I sleep so she would be close to me. Aunt Melissa copied it and put the real one on the first page. Now all I have to do is open the book and look at her. I say good-night to her every night.”
Lindsey’s throat tightened, making speech impossible. She blinked back a rush of warm tears and swallowed several times. “She is very pretty.”
Tyler caressed the picture and whispered, “Yeah, she is. I miss her so much.”
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She stroked his hair as he stared at the picture. The child needed a mother. Someone to cuddle and hold him as only a mother could. They thumbed through the rest of the pages. Most of the beginning photos showed Ty and his mom, but gradually she saw pictures that included Stephen. She flipped past pictures of the happy family on Christmas morning.
Stephen had moved on.
“This is a lovely album. Did your mom make it for you?”
Tyler nodded. “Her and Aunt Melissa did it when she got sick. Mommy didn’t want me to forget her. Like I could.” He sniffed.
Lindsey couldn’t hold back any longer. She pulled Ty onto her lap and wrapped her arms around him. He rested his head on her shoulder.
He pulled away and looked at her with teary eyes. “Miss Lindsey? Instead of reading me a story, would you sing to me? My mom used to sing me to sleep all the time.”
“I’m not a very good singer, sweetheart. Wouldn’t you prefer a story?”
“Please? Mommy sang ‘Jesus Loves Me’ all the time.”
How could she resist those pleading eyes? “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She laid him down and repositioned the covers beneath his chin. Brushing her fingers across his forehead, she sang the song she had learned in Sunday school years ago.
Ty’s eyes drooped. He rolled over onto his side, reached in his pillowcase for the picture and within minutes, his breathing evened out.
Lindsey brushed her lips across his soft cheek.
On her way back to the living room, she passed a partially closed door. She peeked through the small opening. Definitely Stephen’s bedroom with its unmade king-size bed, socks on the floor next to the nightstand. Feeling like an intruder, she backed away and returned to the living room.
She stood in front of the window, staring out into the inky-black night. She had expected Stephen to call by now, to check on Ty at least. Hopefully things were going well at the hospital.
Spying the pile of laundry, Lindsey grabbed a bath towel and started folding. She carried the piles of clothes into the laundry room and set them on the dryer. Returning to the living room, she straightened a week’s worth of newspapers, National Geographic Kids and Sports Illustrated magazines on the coffee table, and picked up a couple of cars that Tyler had missed during his cleanup.
