“I know,” Krissy said. “I’m sorry. I...” How did one adequately apologize for failing to keep in touch with a woman who’d been like a mother to her throughout high school? For failing to be there for a woman who had been there for Krissy when her own mother couldn’t be? For failing to offer her love and support to a sweet and caring woman who’d been dealing with the worst tragedy a mother could face, the death of a child?
“I...” Krissy tried again. But how could she adequately explain that she’d tried to stay in touch, and she had, for a good year after Jarrod’s death. But hearing the complete desolation in Patti’s voice during each phone call had been too difficult? That it made Krissy feel things she didn’t want to feel when she’d been trying so hard to move past the pain? That knowing she held the key to Patti and Bart’s happiness, in the form of a grandbaby fathered by their beloved son, but not feeling ready to give up her freedom to have that baby at such a young age, made her feel guilty and selfish and just plain terrible?
“I’m sorry,” she said again. It would have to do until she could explain further.
“I’m sorry, too,” Patti said. “I’ve missed you. Now tell me everything. What have you been up to?”
Easy as that, sweet Patti moved past what a terrible friend Krissy had been.
An hour later they were all caught up—getting caught up on the happenings of Patti and Bart had taken less than five minutes, because not much new had happened in their lives. They were in the same apartment, working in the same jobs, still mourning the loss of their son. They were going through the motions of life but not really living. It would have broken Jarrod’s heart to know. It made Krissy feel even more awful for waiting so long to give them a grandchild to dote on.
But in six weeks, all that would change. She wanted to tell Patti, wanted to hear the joy in her voice and give her something to finally be happy about, but not yet. Not until Patti could hold a happy, healthy baby in her arms. Mr. and Mrs. Sadler had been through too much, couldn’t handle any more sadness if anything were to go wrong with the birth, or God forbid, if the baby wasn’t born healthy.
Krissy forced out the question she’d called to ask. “I’m wondering if you know how I can reach Spencer Penn?”
“Of course. Spencer is such a dear. He stops by for Sunday dinner every couple of months.”
Shoot. Leave it to Spencer to screw up her plans. “I thought he was living out in California. Wasn’t that why he hadn’t attended Jarrod’s funeral?”
“Oh, no. He was only out there for a week or two, taking his sister to look at colleges. I told him not to cancel his plans that Jarrod would understand. Now hold on a minute. Let me get his number from my address book.”
Take all the time you need. Can’t find it? No worries. Krissy was in no rush. She’d already put this off longer than she probably should have.
“Here it is.” Patti read off the number. “If you don’t mind me asking, why do you need it?”
Because your son has a sick sense of humor and I’m trying to do the right thing and abide by his wishes for Spencer to be our baby’s godfather, even though the thought made her a bit nauseous.
“I was under the impression,” Patti went on, “that the two of you weren’t friends anymore.”
No. They weren’t. Not since that night... “I need to talk to him about something important,” was all Krissy said, hoping Patti would leave it at that.
Thank goodness she did. “Don’t be a stranger,” Patti said. “If you have some time, we’d love to see you.”
Soon, if things went as planned, they’d be seeing quite a lot of her. “I’d like that. I’ll be in touch.” After your grandson is born.
* * *
A week later, on a Friday evening after work, Krissy sat in her parked car, watching the clock, not wanting to show up too early. She’d kept the heat on, because an April evening in New York was not near as warm as an April evening in Hawaii. Or maybe it was nerves giving her a chill.
It’d taken days of back and forth messages to set up a meeting with Spencer, the pain in the butt. He kept suggesting various bars in White Plains, all relatively close to where she worked, saying a neutral location with lots of witnesses was safest for both of them. Seemed the years hadn’t managed to mature him any.
Regardless of the fact she wasn’t drinking any alcohol these days, the topic they needed to discuss would be better dealt with in private. So Krissy had insisted on meeting him at his apartment—which, as it turned out, was also relatively close to where she worked.
Learning that had been a bit unsettling.
The christening, the confirmation, and maybe a few milestone birthday parties was all the time she’d planned to have to tolerate Spencer. The bare minimum required for her son to get to know his godfather. Heaven forbid Spencer wanted to play a bigger role in her child’s life.
No. Tonight she’d set some ground rules.
Krissy eyed the clock then the distance between her parking spot and the front door of Spencer’s fancy high rise. Six minutes should do it, only because she wasn’t walking all that fast these days.
At seven o’clock, on the dot, Krissy knocked on Spencer’s door.
A few seconds later, it opened and ho-lee cow. The years had been good to the now very handsome Spencer Penn. He must have grown a foot since high school. His lean, teenage soccer player physique? Gone, replaced by muscles, defined, sexy, desirable muscles that were prominent beneath the short-sleeved black polo shirt and tight fitting khaki pants he wore. His thick, wavy, always mussed—in a lead singer of a boy band kind of way—dark hair? Gone, replaced by a shortish, surprisingly appealing, buzz cut. His smooth, boyish face? Gone, replaced by sculpted cheekbones, sexy scruff, and full, kissable lips...that were smiling as part of a ‘You like what you see?’ expression.
Shoot. Krissy focused in on his light brown eyes, smart eyes that, like Jarrod’s, could always seem to tell what she was thinking.
Spencer looked her up and down his gaze settling on her midsection, “Still have a sweet tooth I see.”
Any attraction she may have been feeling vanished. Poof! Gone. “Can you manage to not be obnoxious, for at least the next five minutes?” If she’d cared one bit what Spencer thought of her, she’d have changed out of her work scrubs and freshened her makeup or run some gel through her short hair. But she didn’t care. Krissy handed him Jarrod’s letter. “This is why I’m here. And I have no intention of standing out in the hallway like an annoying salesman while you read it. So either invite me in or I’m gone.”
Without saying a word, he stepped aside and Krissy walked into his apartment. Feeling awkward, and not wanting to stand there while he read Jarrod’s letter, Krissy asked, “Where’s your bathroom?”
Spencer looked up from the envelope he’d been staring at but hadn’t yet opened and pointed down the hallway to the right. So that’s where Krissy headed.
Since she had some time to kill to make her visit believable, she spent it snooping. One toothbrush in the holder. Basic man stuff neatly stashed in the medicine cabinet. An electric beard trimmer. Deodorant. A small box of condoms. Mostly empty drawers. No tampons, or hair paraphernalia, or any signs the same woman visited on a regular basis. Rather than think too hard on why that made her happy, Krissy flushed the toilet, washed her hands, and walked back into the hallway.
Seeing Spencer sitting at the kitchen table, fully engrossed by his letter, Krissy took a few minutes to admire his apartment, neat, modern, and nicely furnished in tans and blacks, so different from the cluttered, messy bedroom of his youth. In the living room he had a bunch of thick textbooks stacked on a low shelf. Krissy walked closer. Anatomy and Physiology. Nutrition. Relaxation. Strength and Conditioning. Athletic Training.
Then she saw it, at eye level, a full color picture of the three of them in a plain black frame, Jarrod on
one side, Spencer on the other, and Krissy in the middle. It’d been taken in Central Park, during the winter. They’d been all smiles, with red cheeks, disheveled hats and coats, and covered in snow. Happier times. The good old days, always together...until junior year, when everything had changed.
Beside it were a bunch of pictures of Spencer wearing the same clothes he wore now, posing with various adult male soccer players. “What’s with all these soccer pictures?”
“I’m an assistant athletic trainer with the NYC United,” he answered, his eyes never leaving the letter. “A semi-pro, United Soccer League team.”
Pretty cool, but she’d never tell him that. Krissy remembered her sister Kira telling her there was a semi-pro soccer team in their area. They practiced and played at one of the local colleges, which explained why Spencer now lived so close to her. “That’s what you went to school for?”
“Got my master’s degree in it.”
“What does an assistant athletic trainer do exactly?”
“Athletic trainers deal with prevention, acute care and rehabilitation of sports injuries.”
Other pictures caught her attention. Spencer hiking. Spencer skiing. Spencer on the beach with a bunch of his good looking friends. My God! Krissy looked away. “No pictures of your girlfriend?”
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
Good to know.
Why is that good to know?
Hmmm.
Before she could come up with an answer, Spencer interrupted.
“You’re pregnant?” he yelled from the kitchen, in a tone that seemed to indicate women like Krissy shouldn’t procreate. Really, he felt it necessary to yell? The apartment wasn’t all that big.
“Yes,” Krissy said, keeping her voice uninterested and her back to him as she perused the other pictures on the shelf. “Sorry you wasted a perfectly good insult.”
“With Jarrod’s baby?” he asked.
The disbelief in his tone had her swinging around to face him. “Yes with Jarrod’s baby.”
From where he sat, Spencer looked up from the letter. “How do I know?”
“How do you know what?”
He stood. “How do I know that’s Jarrod’s baby in here,” he motioned to her belly, “and not some other guy’s?” He walked closer. “How do I know you didn’t get yourself knocked up and now you’re digging out these letters Jarrod left you so you can get me, Patti and Bart involved so you don’t have to raise the kid on your own? Do they know?”
A rage like she hadn’t felt in years, quite possibly since the last time she’d seen Spencer, surged through her. How dare he insinuate... “As if I would waste one minute looking for you if Jarrod hadn’t asked me to. As if I would want someone like you in my life, in my baby’s life, if Jarrod hadn’t specifically stated he wanted you to be his baby’s godfather. God I hate you. This was a mistake.” She stomped toward the door. “I don’t know what Jarrod was thinking.” She bent to pick up her pocketbook—no easy task considering she’d soon be entering her ninth month of pregnancy, but no way would she ask Spencer for help. “And, no, Patti and Bart don’t know. Not yet. I’m waiting until after the baby’s born. To save them from worry...or having to grieve another loss if something goes wrong.”
“Wait,” he said, sounding tired.
No way would she wait simply because he wanted her to. But she could slow down long enough to let him have it. “You may not believe this is Jarrod’s baby, and frankly, I don’t care whether you do or you don’t. I did what he asked me to do, out of love for him, but I won’t—”
“Love.” Spencer let out a cruel laugh. “You don’t know the meaning of the word. If you loved Jarrod so much, why’d you flirt with him and tease and then flaunt all your boyfriends in front of him?”
Yes, she’d teased and joked. But she most certainly had not flirted with Jarrod. “I did not—”
Apparently ready for a fight, he set his hands on his hips and leaned in. “Oh, yes, you did. Holding their hands in front of him, sucking face in front of him, telling him the intimate details of your sex life, breaking his heart over and over again.”
Breaking his heart? “I did not break his heart. We were pals, best friends. We talked about everything.” Although to be honest, usually Krissy had done most of the talking while Jarrod had done most of the listening.
“He didn’t want to be your best friend. At least that’s not all he wanted to be. I never understood how you couldn’t see it? Except that you were always too absorbed in yourself and what was going on in your life to notice much about anyone else.”
Even though that had been true, Krissy told him to, “Go to hell.” She didn’t want to relive those days. She’d moved on. She was a better person now. She was doing the right thing by having Jarrod’s baby, following through with his wishes. But she refused to stand here and listen to one more word out of Spencer’s mouth. She turned to the door.
“All the times you ran to him when you were upset, cried on his shoulder, let him hold you and console you. You gave him just enough to keep him content with the scraps of affection you tossed in his direction, to make him hopeful that maybe someday...”
“Shut up.” Krissy’s chest started to ache.
“He loved you,” Spencer said. “Boyfriend, girlfriend loved you.”
No.
“But you came after me.” His words dripped with resentment. “Kissed me on some whim, without a care who saw you, without a care for my friendship with Jarrod or how much it would hurt him if he found out.”
“What’s the matter, Krissy?” Spencer had said to her that night. “Getting desperate? Every other guy at the party turned you down?” Like she was a common slut, like she’d only gone after him because no one else would have her. He had no idea how long it’d taken her to finally act on her feelings for him. If anyone had gotten hurt that night it’d been her.
Krissy turned back around to face him. “Jarrod and I were friends. Best friends. That’s all.”
“He wanted more.” Spencer stared her down. “Why do you think he kissed you?”
An innocent peck on the lips, in the tenth grade, beneath the bleachers at a basketball game. “He said he liked me better than any other girl at school and he just wanted to see...” But there’d been nothing. No tingle. No spark. No desire to take the kiss deeper, for either of them...or so she’d thought...so he’d led her to believe. Why?
“Did you have to laugh afterward?” Spencer asked, doing nothing to hide his contempt, as he walked back to the kitchen, folded Jarrod’s letter and stuffed it back in the envelope.
The whole kiss thing had made her feel weird and out of sorts. So yeah, she’d laughed. A nervous kind of laugh, because she didn’t know what else to do, the two them standing there, alone... “He told you about that?”
Spencer nodded. Then he shrugged. “You confided in him and he confided in me. After you went off with your friends, like nothing had happened, he sent me a text.” Spencer looked down at his feet. “I found him crying in the third floor bathroom.”
“You told me he went home because he wasn’t feeling well.”
“He wasn’t feeling well. He was heartbroken. He’d finally kissed the girl he’d secretly loved for years and she’d laughed in his face.”
Krissy’s stomach churned.
Spencer folded the envelope and slid it into his back pocket, casual as can be, while Krissy felt like the very foundation of her life was crumbling beneath her feet.
“The next day, after he’d calmed down he decided he could be patient.” Spencer’s eyes met hers. “That you were worth the wait. That eventually he’d win you over, but you didn’t make it easy on him, did you?”
Had she really hurt her best friend again and again? God help her. All the things she’d confided in him. Vomit started to creep up t
o the back of her throat. “I had no idea.” Absolutely no idea at all or she never would have—
“Why do you think he went into the army?” Spencer looked at her with such anger, such...hatred. “To impress you.”
No! “Don’t you dare belittle his decision,” she jabbed her index finger in Spencer’s direction, “his commitment and dedication or how hard he’d worked to get into shape. He enlisted because he wanted to serve his country.”
“He enlisted to impress you.” Spencer shook his head. “There was no talking him out of it, believe me, I tried. After hearing you gush about that Martinez kid who’d joined the marines, Jarrod got it into his head that he’d join the military, too. So you’d gush about him. He’d planned to come home a war hero so you’d finally see him as a man.”
What? “Are you saying...?” The ache in her chest worsened. The floor seemed to undulate beneath her feet. Krissy grabbed on to the wall for stability. “He joined the military because of me?” A sharp pain stabbed at the right side of her belly. “Ow.” She rubbed the area, tears forming in her eyes. It couldn’t be. “That he’s dead...” Her whole abdomen tightened uncomfortably. “He’s dead...” She couldn’t breathe. “...because of me?”
Fluid gushed between her legs. “No.” She clamped them closed.
“What’s wrong?” Spencer ran toward her. He looked down. Then he ran back to the kitchen, grabbed a chair and ran back. “Sit.”
She wanted to yell, “I am not a dog,” because Spencer brought out the fight in her. But if she didn’t sit right then there was a good chance she’d collapse to the floor. “I can’t have this baby. Not yet.” She rubbed her belly, wasn’t ready. “It’s too soon.” The baby kicked. At least that was a good sign.
Krissy could hear Spencer talking but she paid no attention to what he was saying, thoughts of Jarrod swirling in her head. He’d gone into the army because of her. He’d been killed because of her. I’m sorry. So sorry.
Spencer knelt down beside her. “How far along are you?”
The Nurse's Newborn Gift Page 2
