Every morning when she came to the kitchen for breakfast with the kitten pattering after her, Olivia couldn’t help but think of Reed and the sweet thing he’d done for her. She still could hardly believe he’d gone to such lengths just to make her happy.
He’d come upon an article that said pregnant women were supposed to avoid cleaning the litter box for fear of being exposed to toxoplasmosis. He read the warning aloud to her and offered to come over every day and perform the unpleasant task of scooping out Tiger’s litter box. She smiled over her coffee, remembering the serious expression he’d worn as he looked at her over the newspaper.
“Thanks for offering, Reed,” she’d said, “but I’ll be careful. Besides, Tiger rarely even uses the litter box. He’s pretty much turned into an outdoor kitty.”
“Just don’t let him caterwaul under your neighbor’s window.”
A smile tugged at her lips. He’d become quite protective and possessive of Tiger. Her smile faded a little when she realized that his protectiveness extended to her as well. Reed still had feelings for her, that was clear. She didn’t want to take advantage of him, and yet her feelings for him were genuine, too. Maybe not as serious, but she thought the world of him and saw him as a dear friend. No, a bit more than that…
They’d become comfortable with each other, finally settling into a routine they both felt easy with. Reed had sent her to St. Louis solo one day last week, since she’d already met Gavin and knew the ropes there. She’d enjoyed the drive, and it was fun to be in the city once again, with access to something more cultural than Betty’s Bead Boutique. But she’d had to admit that it had also felt good to get back home to the quiet of the Falls.
She enjoyed her work in the studio and no longer dreaded the days they went out on photo shoots or visited galleries. She’d grown to trust Reed not to make another pass at her. Not that he’d want to in her present condition.
She looked down at her belly. Her morning sickness had abated, but it’d been replaced by another disconcerting symptom: she was getting huge! According to the most recent sonogram, she was only about five months along, but she sure didn’t remember any of her friends showing this much at five months. She couldn’t get into half the things in her closet and even her loosest clothes were snug. She would have to do some maternity shopping soon. Not a prospect she relished.
Reed hadn’t commented on her changing shape, other than becoming even more solicitous—not letting her carry anything that weighed more than two pounds, helping her with her chair, and pestering her if he thought she wasn’t eating enough for lunch. She knew he noticed everything. She felt his eyes on her while she worked. He was, after all, an artist, gifted with an ultra-observant nature.
She picked up the licked-clean cereal bowl Tiger had abandoned and went to finish getting ready for work. Reed had asked her to put together an order of art supplies this morning and she didn’t want to be late.
Chapter 25
Monday mornings had become Reed’s favorite day of the week. He heard the front door open and listened to the now-familiar music of Olivia’s footsteps in the hall, then moving through the kitchen, her cheery “good morning” the prelude that signaled the beginning of his day. He had come to dread the weekends because she wasn’t in them.
He hoped to change that for next weekend anyway. He’d seen the advertisements for Hanover Falls’s annual Summerfest in the Hanover Falls Record last week and he’d decided to risk asking Olivia to go with him.
She poked her head in the studio. “Good morning.”
That music again.
“Hi,” Reed said. “You’re bright and early this morning.”
“I thought you wanted to get that order in before noon.”
“Well, I do, but I don’t think it’ll take all morning.”
She shrugged. “Oh, well. I’m here. Let me get the coffee going first.” She started back for the kitchen.
“Sure,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
She popped back in the doorway, this time coming down two steps. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
He shrugged, afraid he’d been too obvious. “Just wondered. I haven’t asked lately.”
She looked at him for a minute, as if trying to decide how to answer. “I’m fine. Feeling better than I have in a while, actually. Thanks for asking.”
“Good. I’m glad.”
A few minutes later, the smell of fresh coffee wafted into the studio. His mouth watered in anticipation.
Olivia set a mug down for him. “Coffee on your right.”
“Got it. Thanks.” Reed took a sip of the hot brew. “Hang on a couple minutes and we’ll go through those catalogs.”
“No rush,” she said. “I need to clean up my framing mess from Friday first anyway.”
It struck him that they were acting like an old married couple, each knowing the other’s habits and quirks, communicating almost without words sometimes.
He liked it. Liked having her in the studio with him, filling it with her feminine presence and the subtle fragrance of her perfume. He liked having someone to laugh at his jokes. He liked the comfort of having someone grow to know him well.
“Reed?”
Olivia’s voice disturbed his reverie. “Sorry…what was that?”
“I wondered if you wanted something to eat before we get started.”
He waved her off. “No, I’m fine, thanks.”
“Okay… I’ve got the catalogs out whenever you’re ready.”
He moved the easel back and slid off the stool. He hadn’t accomplished much this morning. Might as well get the ordering over with.
“I’m going to get a refill before we get started. You want some?”
She held out her cup. “Sounds good. Thanks.”
He poured coffee for both of them and set the steaming mugs on the table where Olivia had spread out an array of artists’ supply catalogs.
“Okay,” he said, pulling a chair up to the table and straddling it backwards. He leaned over the back with a sigh. “Let’s get this over with.”
She gave a huff of mock exasperation. “How can you say that? This is shopping, Reed. Shopping.” She exaggerated the pronunciation. “This is supposed to be fun.”
He groaned for her benefit, because he was definitely not dreading the chance to sit next to her.
“Come on.” She gave him a playful nudge. “You get to pick out new colors and fancy brushes.”
“Okay, okay. Let’s do it.”
She gave him two solicitous pats on the back. “That’s the spirit.”
He rolled his eyes at her, but she ignored him and turned all business, sliding a sheet of notepaper in front of him.
“These are the colors you’re almost out of, and this column is some that I didn’t see in the cabinet, but I know you’ve used them before. They must not have ever been replaced.”
The list swam in front of him, a jumble of squiggles. His eyes were giving him fits today. He squinted, took off his glasses and cleaned them on his shirttail. Not much better. He leaned over the chair and switched on the gooseneck lamp. Still no good. He picked up the paper and moved it back and forth in front of his eyes, trying to find the distance that would allow him to focus.
“Hey! My handwriting isn’t that bad.” Olivia feigned a pout.
“It’s not that. My eyes aren’t cooperating today.” He handed her the list. “You’re going to have to read that to me.”
She was quiet for a minute, her expression suddenly serious. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…” Her voice trailed off.
“Don’t worry about it. I have bad days sometimes.” He looked at the floor, trying to decide how much to say. He had always tried to downplay the problems with his vision. Even back when the doctors had told him he might be going blind, he hadn’t wanted anyone feeling sorry for him. But he thought Olivia would understand. And didn’t she deserve to know why he sometimes had to take it slow? “I’m doing a lot better since my surgery,” he starte
d. “But it’s only been five months. The doctor said it may be a lot longer before I really know where I am. With my eyes, I mean.”
Her brow wrinkled in concern. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I totally forget sometimes that you even have a problem. With your eyes, I mean.”
He smiled at her obviously unintentional parroting of his words. “You’re lucky I do have a problem,” he said, grinning, attempting to lighten the mood.
“Huh?”
“If you recall, that’s why I hired you in the first place.”
“Oh. Yeah. That.” She followed his lead and they were instantly back to the light banter they’d finally come to do so well.
They finished the list and Olivia filled out the order forms for two different catalogs. Reed watched her surreptitiously as they worked. Being so close to her, smelling the clean scent of her hair and skin, it was all he could do to keep his thoughts—and actions—from going where he’d promised her they wouldn’t.
He stood, lifting his chair with him as he rose. If he didn’t get out of arm’s reach of her right now, he’d be sorry. “Can you handle it from here?”
She glanced over her shoulder and gave him a funny look, as if she sensed his mood. But she nodded. “I’m on it. I just need your signature for the credit card, and you need to initial here.” She leaned to one side so he could sign the forms.
He scratched his name and initials on the appropriate lines, and made a mental note to scratch his plans to ask Olivia to Summerfest. He picked up both their coffee cups, using them as an excuse to escape to the kitchen.
Olivia glanced at the clock. If she hurried, she could get the orders out in Reed’s mailbox and save herself a trip downtown to the post office. She folded the first order form and slid it into the envelope. She sealed the flap and started to do the same with the second order. But something made her stop. An odd sense that something was amiss.
What was she forgetting? She pulled the form out and studied it again. She’d correctly totaled the quantities and amounts and included sales tax and shipping charges. Everything looked to be in order. Reed had signed and initialed in all the appropriate places. She stared at his signature. Beautiful handwriting. An artist’s script. But the signature on his checks and credit card was different from the way he signed his paintings.
It was the box where he’d jotted his initials that kept snagging her attention. Had she ever heard his middle name? He didn’t use a middle initial in his signature, nor could she remember seeing it on any of the dozens of forms she’d filled out for the galleries and art show entries. She wondered what that E stood for. Probably something that embarrassed him, since as far as she could remember, he’d never used the initial. She took a wild guess. Erasmus? Ezekiel maybe? Ebenezer. She giggled at the thought.
“What’s so funny?” Reed appeared on the wide steps that led from the kitchen.
She flushed, caught in her silly mental game. But she decided to have fun with it. “I was just trying to guess your middle name.”
He lifted a brow. “What’d you come up with?”
“I’m placing my bets on Ebenezer.”
He made a face. “Oh, please. It’s bad, but it’s not that bad.”
“What is it?”
“I’m not telling you now.”
She shot him a coy grin. “Erasmus? Eugene?”
He shook his head. “Where are you coming up with these?”
She giggled. “Eustice?”
“Okay, okay. I give. You’re making my real middle name sound downright good.”
She smiled, waiting.
“It’s Elliott,” he said finally.
“Elliott? That’s a nice name.”
“Well, I’m glad you like it. You can have it if you want. I never use it.”
“That’s generous of you. I might just take you up on that offer. It beats my middle name.”
“What’s that?”
“Oh, no. That is classified, top secret information.”
“No fair! I told you mine.”
“I didn’t exactly twist your arm.”
“Hey, wait a minute.” His eyebrows lifted. “I know where I can find out your big secret.”
“Where?”
“As your employer, I just happen to be privy to certain documents…” He rubbed his hands together like the villain in a melodrama.
“Hey, now that’s no fair. Isn’t there some law about accessing that information for sinister purposes?”
“Sinister? I’ll tell you what. I’ll keep your secret if you’ll keep mine.” He held out his pinky in a truce.
She laughed and hooked her little finger with his. If anyone had told her a few weeks ago that she would be sitting here enjoying this lighthearted banter with Reed Vincent, she would have told them they were crazy. But it felt good. She was glad they’d been able to get past their uneasiness with each other and become real friends.
Sometimes in the evenings, when Tiger hopped up on her lap on the sofa, and she remembered Reed’s sweet gesture, she was tempted to dream about him becoming more than a friend. But shards of guilt always sliced the thoughts away. Derek’s death should be still fresh and raw. Why was she daydreaming about romance just five months after her husband had died? Not to mention the baby on the way.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
She started at Reed’s voice. Good grief! Now she was daydreaming about him in his very presence. She waved him away, pretending to be adding up the columns on the order form.
She felt like a heel when he apologized and slunk off to his stool in front of the easel.
She was quiet the rest of the workday, and unlike usual, a little relieved when it was time to go home. She had to get her act together. She had a schoolgirl crush on Reed and if she didn’t grow up and quit acting like an idiot, she was going to put herself right out of a job she needed desperately. Sometimes, when she thought about that day in the woods when Reed had said he wanted to kiss her, she wondered if she had encouraged him. She hadn’t thought so at the time, but she was pretty sure a shrink might tell her differently.
She fixed a salad and took it out onto the patio, but the heat soon drove her back inside. She felt restless and out of sorts and she wasn’t sure why. For some strange reason, she kept seeing Reed’s signature as he’d signed it on the order form this morning. She traced his initials in her mind’s eye over and over, thinking about their conversation, smiling to herself at the thought of their good-humored banter. Reed Elliott Vincent. REV. Why did those three scripted letters haunt her? Something about the way he’d written them. That artistic flourish that gave them almost the look of an advertising logo. One she’d seen somewhere before.
That was it. She’d seen his signature before—that distinctive combination of letters, written just that way. Maybe he did sign some of his earlier work, or his smaller pieces with his initials. But why did it seem so significant?
She gave a growl of frustration that caused Tiger to look up from his perch on the arm of the sofa. “Hey, kitty. Sorry. Did I scare you?”
He gave a tiny meow in response, and at that moment, she felt a rolling, watery sensation inside her. It took her breath away. Her baby. She’d felt some fluttery sensations over the last few weeks, but there was no mistaking the baby’s movements now.
She placed her hand over her stomach and held her breath, willing the baby to kick again. What an amazing thing! Derek would have been so excited. A wave of something like homesickness swept over her, and she realized how desperately she wished for someone to share this moment with.
Just as quickly, a blanket of warmth fell over her as she realized she wasn’t alone. Not really. Though she had put God at arm’s length when Derek died, and wandered even farther when she’d discovered she was pregnant, God had never left her for even a moment. He’d provided a house, a job, a church, her friendships with Michael and Claire Anderson and Reed. Even grumpy Mr. Burnside.
Tiger hopped up on the sofa and paced back and
forth over her lap as if to say, “Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?” Olivia smiled at the thought, and stroked his silky fur. “Oh, dear God, you’ve been here all along. I just didn’t see it. I don’t understand why things have happened the way they have. I’ll never understand why you took Derek just when we were beginning to be happy together. But this baby, this new little life I’m carrying is such a miracle. I’m sorry it took me so long to acknowledge it. Forgive me.” Hot tears burned her throat and she swallowed them back.
She thought about calling Reed to tell him about the baby moving. But somehow it didn’t seem right. It seemed too intimate, too close to the very things that had made her uncomfortable with him in the beginning. Maybe someday she could share more personal things with him, but for now, it was too soon. She didn’t want to jeopardize the friendship they’d built.
Claire Anderson’s face came to her mind and it was as if the Lord told her, “Call Claire.”
Claire would be happy for her, rejoice with her. She knew exactly what Olivia was going through. Maybe she could even answer some of the questions that had been brooding as Olivia’s pregnancy progressed.
And if Claire happened to give her a hug and let her cry on her shoulder, it wouldn’t turn into an international incident the way it might with Reed.
Yes, talking to Claire would be much safer for her heart than if she shared her feelings with Reed.
Chapter 26
Reed’s Escape sat running in his driveway when Olivia got to work the following Monday morning. They were delivering several canvases to a gallery in Springfield and if time and weather permitted, he wanted to stop and take some photographs of a garden a friend had told him about.
She had looked forward to the trip all weekend long, but now that the day was here, she wasn’t so sure. She and Reed had been getting along so well lately. She hated to put their feeling to the test and risk ruining the comfortable thing they had going.
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