“It’ll be my pleasure,” Bart said, cuddling his grandson close.
Krissy turned to Patti. “I’d love it if you’d make all of J.J.’s birthday cakes.” Patti baked and decorated the best cakes. “And help me make his parties special. If you’d bake him your caramel fudge brownies with walnuts to celebrate soccer wins and placing in the science fair or to cheer him up after some disappointment.”
Patti blotted her eyes and nodded. “Of course I will.”
“But most of all, I hope your home will be a place where J.J. knows, no matter how bad life gets, he will always be welcome, he will always be safe, and most importantly, he will always be loved, like I was.”
“Always,” Patti said, wiping at the corners of her eyes again.
Bart sniffled and, looking down at J.J., mumbled his own, “Always.”
Pure joy flowed through her veins. This was what she wanted, what she’d hoped for.
J.J. started to fuss.
“He’s probably getting hungry.” Krissy took him from Bart. “Is there someplace I can feed him?” She glanced between Bart and Spencer. “In private. I’m breastfeeding.”
“Of course you are,” Patti said. “Come.” She walked toward the stairs. “You can sit in our bedroom, there’s a glider rocker in there.”
“Oh. I’ve been thinking about getting one of those.”
“Well, don’t you dare, Bart and I will get you one.”
“You don’t—”
Patti stopped and turned. “We want to.” She placed special emphasis on ‘want.’ “It’s the least we can do.”
CHAPTER TEN
AFTER THE WOMEN retreated upstairs, Bart headed into the kitchen. He opened the oven door to peek inside, sending the delicious smell of roasting meat into the air. “She went all out for the two of you.”
Spencer’s empty stomach growled. “She always goes all out for company.”
“Pot roast and potatoes. I can’t remember the last time she made pot roast and potatoes.” Bart motioned to the coffee machine on the counter. “Want a cup?”
God yes, he’d barely slept last night, thinking about today. “That’d be great.”
Bart took a mug from a cabinet and handed it to Spencer. “You know your way around.”
That he did.
When Spencer finished, Bart made his own cup of coffee. Then they both sat down at the table. Something about Bart’s expression made Spencer uneasy. Before he could excuse himself to go...anywhere else, Bart asked, “So what’s going on between the two of you?” He followed the question with his most serious stare, the one where he locked eyes with you, trying to detect an uneasy blink, or twitch, or bead of sweat, anything that may give the slightest hint you’re even considering not telling the truth.
“Nothing, sir.” The truth.
Bart studied him. “Do you want there to be?”
A question that kept him up more nights than he’d ever admit. Leave it to Bart to get right to the heart of the matter. Spencer broke eye contact, dropping his head to blow on his coffee, lifting the mug to take a sip, drawing both out while considering his options, deciding there’d be no use in lying. Bart knew him too well. “Honestly?” He met the man’s eyes head on. “I don’t know. But for there to be something between us, she’d have to show some interest. And she hasn’t.” Except briefly, during their kiss.
“You’ve got to make her interested,” Bart said, adding, “Again,” in a much quieter voice.
“Again?”
“Patti and I always wondered how you could miss the way Krissy used to look at you. Weren’t sure if you were too dumb to notice, or too smart to let on that you knew.”
Too dumb to notice apparently. “How did she used to look at me?”
Bart looked out the kitchen window. “Like a girl in love.”
Nuh-uh. No way. She’d been a flirt, a tease. She probably looked at lots of guys like a fickle girl in love.
“Oh, she loved Jarrod, too. No doubt about that. But she never looked at our son the way she looked at you.” He shook his head. “The hours I had to listen to Patti fret over that. How she would have loved to have Krissy as a daughter-in-law. Alas,” he took a sip of coffee. “It wasn’t meant to be.”
“No,” Spencer said, looking into his mug. “You’ve got it all wrong.”
“Just because you missed it, doesn’t mean others didn’t see it. Like Jarrod. He knew.”
Spencer lifted his head.
“But he was determined, that boy of mine, thought he could create something that wasn’t there.”
Spencer watched him. Did Bart know Jarrod had gone into the military to impress Krissy? Yes, he did. Either Jarrod had told him or he’d figured it out, but somehow he knew.
“For a lot of years, I blamed Krissy for Jarrod’s death,” Spencer admitted, not able to meet the eyes of the man he’d looked up to as a surrogate father after his own father had passed away. He would be ashamed of Spencer’s behavior if he knew. “When she showed up at my door, I let her know it. I was...horrible to her.” He couldn’t bring himself to admit the depth of just how horrible, horrible enough to send her to the hospital.
“You over it?” Bart asked with his typical straightforward approach.
Spencer nodded. “But I’m not sure she is.”
“She’s a tough one,” Bart said. “No doubt about that. Fiercely independent. Has been for as long as I’ve known her. But the tough ones are worth the effort.” He winked. “Make the effort.” After a brief hesitation he added, “In his letter, Jarrod made it clear, if he couldn’t be with Krissy, there’s no one he’d want her to be with more than you.”
But it wasn’t up to Jarrod. “He mentioned that in my letter, too.” And he just had to share that with his parents, nothing like putting Spencer under even more pressure. Thanks, old pal.
“Her crush on you aside, she didn’t used to have great taste in men.”
On that they could agree.
Without warning, Patti swooped into the kitchen. “Krissy will be down in a minute.” She went straight to the drawer by the stove to take out a pad and a pen.
“Uh-oh,” Bart said. “Here we go.”
“You stop it.” Patti sat down at the table, unfazed by her husband’s teasing, and started to write. “Krissy loved the glider rocking chair that I used to rock Jarrod in.”
“So give it to her,” Bart said. “We don’t need it.”
Spencer could probably fit it in the back of his SUV. But before he had the chance to do any more than think it, Patti said, “Yes we do. For when Krissy comes to visit and when we babysit.”
Bart leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “So it begins.”
“So what begins?” Spencer couldn’t help but ask.
“The lists. Everything we need to buy and everything I need to do.” Bart motioned to the list Patti was feverishly making.
Spencer read: Crib. Playpen. High chair. Bibs. Bedding. Car seat. Stroller.
“By now she probably has all that stuff,” Spencer said, even though he couldn’t be sure.
Krissy entered the kitchen with a very contented looking J.J. in her arms. “All what stuff?”
“Oh, it’s not for her,” Bart told Spencer. “It’s for here.”
“What’s for here?” Krissy asked, trying to catch up. Although Spencer had been present for the entire conversation and still wasn’t sure what was going on.
“Go on,” Bart said to Patti. “Tell them.”
“All the stuff we’re going to need to set up a nursery for J.J,” Patti explained. “For when you come to visit.” She looked over at Krissy. “For when we babysit. So you don’t have to schlep.”
“Give me my grandson.” Bart walked over to Krissy, holding out his hands
.
Krissy looked hesitant. “He hasn’t burped yet.”
“I’ll get a burp out of him.”
“Oh, he will, too,” Patti said. “He’s wonderful with babies.”
Bart sat back down, settled J.J. against his chest with the baby’s head on his shoulder, and started to pat his back very gently. Spencer watched and learned, so he’d be ready when he got a turn to hold J.J. Not today. Today was all about Patti and Bart, but someday very soon.
“So about this babysitting.” Krissy pulled out the chair next to Spencer and sat down.
“We’re here whenever you need us,” Patti said. “Will you be going back to work?”
Without hesitation Krissy answered, “Yes. My sister has been stopping by to visit pretty much every day, but I’m not used to spending so much time at home. I need adult interaction. To be honest, I’m starting to go a little stir crazy.”
Wait a minute. “I message you every evening to see if you need anything,” Spencer said. “Why didn’t you tell me you needed adult interaction? I would have stopped by. It’s not like I have to go much out of my way or anything.” Patti made a questioning face. “We’re living in the same building,” Spencer explained. The knowing expression on Bart’s face and the hopeful expression on Patti’s face had Spencer looking anywhere but at them.
Krissy said, “You always ask if I need anything, and I appreciate knowing that if and when I do, like a ride down to visit Patti and Bart for instance, I can count on you. But in the normal course of the day, I don’t need anything. I know you’re busy and you have your own life. Asking you to take time out of your day to stop by because I’m bored or lonely is selfish. Asking you to do things for me simply because I’m tired and would rather nap is inconsiderate. Regardless of what you may think of me, I’m neither of those things.”
No, she wasn’t, not anymore.
“I’m not your responsibility, Spencer. I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You’re not—”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Well then what am I? Not a friend. If I was a friend, you wouldn’t have left the hospital without saying goodbye.”
“You needed your rest.” It sounded lame, even to his own ears.
“If I was a friend,” she went on. “You would have stopped by my apartment to visit me, and I haven’t seen you in a month...not until I needed you for something.”
Oh, no. “I was trying not to bother you. I was respecting your privacy and waiting for you to invite me over, like I’d promised I would do when you moved into my building.”
She studied him. “You mean you wanted to...?”
He nodded.
She smiled. “Then instead of texting me to see what I need, you should have sent me a text that said: No plans tonight, you want to do pizza and a movie at your place? And I would most likely have responded with a: Heck yeah! What time?”
Good to know.
“What will you do for child care?” Patti asked.
“Well that’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” Krissy said. “I’m lucky that Jarrod’s generosity has given me a financial cushion so I don’t have to go back to work right away. But I enjoy working as a nurse and I’m eager to get back to it. Plus I want to save as much of that money as I can for J.J.’s future.”
“I wish we lived closer,” Patti said. “I would give up my job to babysit my grandson in a heartbeat.”
The two women chattered like they were the only two in the room, like they used to years ago, while Spencer and Jarrod played video games and Bart, when he was home, sat in his recliner chair, reading. Back then, Spencer had listened with half an ear, if he’d listened at all. Today he paid close attention.
“Would I be a terrible person if I admitted to hoping you’d feel that way?” Krissy asked. “But I know. The distance is a problem. I’ve thought about moving back to the city, maybe getting a place close by.”
What? No. Spencer didn’t like the thought of that at all. He liked seeing her car in the parking lot, being able to check the tires and registration/inspection stickers to make sure she was driving little J.J. around in a safe vehicle. He liked being close by, liked knowing that her levelheaded sister played a big role in her life.
“But that’d be expensive,” Krissy noted.
Right. Very expensive. Don’t do it.
“My sister is pregnant,” she went on. “My mom lives with her and I really feel the need to be close to both of them, if I can manage it.”
Oh, she’d be able to manage it. Spencer would see to it. Somehow.
Patti shared a look with Bart that Spencer couldn’t quite read. But Bart’s nod showed he understood and agreed.
“You’ve got time, honey.” Patti reached out to pat Krissy’s hand. “Don’t rush into anything. Let us know before you make any major decisions. I bet between us we can figure something out.”
J.J. let out a loud, rather impressive, burp.
“Atta boy,” Bart said every bit the proud grandpa.
“Well done,” Patti said. And she actually clapped.
“Hey.” Spencer would have none of that. “Since when is it acceptable to burp at your table?” More than a few times he and/or Jarrod had been banished to the living room as punishment for burping, even when they hadn’t done it on purpose. He turned to Krissy. “My how things have changed.”
Making her smile was fast becoming his new favorite thing.
Patti waved a threatening finger at him. “Now don’t you go thinking you can do it!”
The grandbaby fed, changed, and burped, they were finally ready to adjourn to the dining room for dinner. A brief argument ended with Krissy convincing Patti she needed two hands to eat and J.J. would be fine laying on a cushiony blanket on the floor between them, set back a little from the table so nothing would spill on him.
Spencer had attended Sunday dinner at Patti and Bart’s numerous times over the years since Jarrod had died, and no dinner had been more enjoyable than this one. Adding Krissy and J.J. to the mix lifted the mood and increased the fun factor considerably.
But all too soon it was time to say goodbye.
Patti and Bart walked them to the car, probably to spend every minute they could with J.J. which was fine with Spencer, since Bart carried the car seat and all he had to carry was the leftovers.
Back in his SUV, with Krissy settled into the front passenger seat, Spencer said, “That went pretty well, don’t you think?”
Her head back against the seat, she nodded, looking tired.
“Did Patti really ask if she could Skype with J.J.?”
Krissy smiled and nodded again. “Yup.”
“Don’t worry.” He patted her thigh. “It’s all so unexpected and new. They’ll calm down.” Eventually.
“I hope not. I want them involved. I want J.J. to have what Jarrod had.” She took his hand—which somehow still rested on the bare skin just above her knee—and held it. “Thank you so much for coming with me.” She looked up at him. “I really needed you there.”
“Happy to be of service.” What an asinine thing to say. He squeezed her hand. “Thank you for asking me to go with you. I really wanted to be there.”
Krissy covered her mouth with her free hand as she yawned. “Sorry. J.J.’s still getting up two, sometimes three times a night. Derrick suggested I consider giving him a bottle of formula at bedtime to see if he’ll feel fuller and sleep longer. But I’m not ready for that.” She yawned again. “Last night I couldn’t get myself back to sleep between feedings. Worried about today.”
Understandable. “Go to sleep.” He released her hand. “If J.J. needs you, I’ll wake you up.”
She looked up at him with sleepy eyes. “Thank you.”
“Oh, before I forget.”
She opened her eyes.
“Thank you for giving J.J. my name, too.” After hearing that, he felt even more of a bond between him and his godson. “It really means a lot.” More than she could ever know.
She smiled. “I’m glad. You’re going to be a great godfather, Spencer.”
He planned to be.
Her eyes drifted closed again, and she slept for the rest of the trip.
After carrying J.J. up to Krissy’s apartment and saying good night to both of them, Spencer stood in the hallway outside of her door and took out his phone to text her.
No plans Tuesday night. You want to do pizza and a movie at your place?
He hit send.
She responded before he made it to the elevator.
Heck, yeah. What time?
He smiled.
7:30. I’ll bring the pizza.
It’s a date! See you then.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IT’S A DATE. Why the heck did she have to call tonight a date? Krissy hurried around her apartment, plucking clothing and assorted baby paraphernalia from the couch, floor, and basically every flat surface around her apartment. Did Spencer think it was a date? She walked into her bedroom and dumped everything on the bed.
Did he want it to be a date?
Did she?
The memory of that kiss they’d shared in her kitchen sent warm tingles of joy and anticipation pulsing through her body. Part of her, a long neglected part, sure wanted tonight to be a date.
“Stop it,” she whispered so as not to wake J.J. who lay napping in his crib in the bedroom they shared. “It’s not a date.”
But then she turned and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, hair scrunched perfectly, cute little pink sundress, and makeup. Yes, she’d actually made time to apply makeup and shave and paint her toenails. She looked down to admire her skill, such a pretty shade of pink.
“I should change,” she told her reflection in the mirror above the dresser. “Into sweats.” As quietly as she could, she eased out a drawer. “Something that’ll make it clear I’m not trying to impress him.” Only she was trying to impress him.
The Nurse's Newborn Gift Page 11
