Lambert's Code

by Hauck, Rachel

  Copyright

  ISBN 1-59310-704-8

  Copyright © 2005 by Rachel Hauck. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

  All scripture quotations are taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1979, 1980, 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  One

  Ethan breathed in the rich aroma of coffee wafting from the kitchen as he jogged downstairs and dropped his gym bag in the hall by the front door.

  “The league basketball championship is at five, Julie. You coming?” He kissed his wife on the cheek and broke off a piece of her muffin.

  “No, my doctor’s appointment is at four. Are you coming?” Julie raised a brow as she handed Ethan a cup of coffee. “Muffins are in the box.” She sat down at the breakfast nook.

  Taking the coffee, he paused. Her words echoed in his mind, “Doctor’s appointment.” Am I supposed to be at this appointment?

  Pondering her question, he pulled a plate from the cupboard and picked a blueberry muffin from the box marked Peri’s Perk.

  “I see Peri’s coffee shop is making its mark here in White Birch, New Hampshire.”

  “She brought our cozy community into the twenty-first century.” Julie sipped her coffee.

  Ethan leaned against the counter, biting into his breakfast. He wished he’d whipped up a batch of eggs instead. He set his plate aside. “Am I supposed to go with you today?”

  She picked at her muffin. “Only if you want to, Ethan.”

  He regarded her for a moment, thinking how tired she sounded. They were both weary of this medical process.

  “Do you think you can handle this one by yourself? I have a lot of work to do today, and I need to be at the rec center by four thirty.”

  She regarded him with wide green eyes. Most of the time, they sparkled when she looked at him, but not this morning.

  “Well, of course, the rec center is more important.”

  “Come on, Jules, you know that’s not true.”

  “Do I?”

  He sighed. “Julie, I’ve been to Dr. Patterson’s ob-gyn office more than most of the women in this town.”

  She tipped her coffee cup and drank slowly. After a moment, she said, “Not lately. Besides, I thought we were in this together.”

  “We are. Why would you even say that? But today, can I have a pass?” He stooped to see her face. “Please, Mrs. Lambert, may I have a get-out-of-the-doctor’s-appointment pass?” He flashed a cheesy grin and raised his left eyebrow.

  She gazed into her coffee. “What if it’s bad news?”

  “It’s not going to be bad news.” He kissed her forehead. “Everything’s going to be all right, babe. Don’t spend the day worrying.” He pulled her to her feet and wrapped her in his arms.

  She dropped her face to his chest and held him like she didn’t want to let go. “I won’t.”

  But he knew she would. With a quick squeeze, he released her, his thoughts already on the day ahead.

  Ducking into the pantry, he shoved food boxes around, hunting for pregame energy. “Do we have any protein bars?”

  “Not unless you bought them.”

  “Babe, can we organize this pantry? Throw some of this out or give it away? I don’t think we’ll eat half this stuff.”

  “Have at it.”

  Ethan peered around the door. “Are you okay?” He tossed a couple of breakfast bars on the counter.

  I wonder if Mark Benton will make tonight’s game. He counted on big Mark for rebounds. If Mark couldn’t play, he’d have to spend some of the afternoon finding a replacement center. White Birch didn’t grow men over six-foot-five every day.

  “I’m fine,” Julie said, staring out the nook window. “But you can clean the pantry as well as I can. In fact, you’re better—”

  The phone’s ring interrupted her rebuttal.

  Ethan made eye contact with Julie as he answered. “Hello?” She gave him a quick glance and slight smile.

  “What?” he said after a moment. “I’ll be right there.” He slapped the phone onto the wall cradle with a disgusted sigh.

  “What’s wrong?” Julie moved behind Ethan with her plate, setting it in the kitchen sink.

  “The environmental inspectors are on their way to Lambert’s Furniture again.” He pointed to the plate in the sink. “You want to put that in the dishwasher?”

  She stuck out her tongue. “Neat freak.”

  “Slob.”

  Julie tucked her plate away in the dishwasher and flipped off the kitchen light. “I need to get to school.”

  He captured her for a kiss, her oval face serious and beautiful, like the cello music she loved to play. “I need to get going, too. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She smoothed her hand over his chest. “Nervous, I guess.”

  He handed Julie her navy peacoat from the front closet.

  “Babe, it’s going to be fine. Don’t assume the worst.”

  “It’s been three years, Ethan.”

  He hesitated. “I know.” He slipped on his trench coat. Three years and thousands of dollars. They’d be in a house now, instead of the apartment, if only—

  He shook the thought loose. No sense in rehashing the past, second-guessing their decisions. What’s done is done.

  Outside in the cold, clear morning, he fought a twinge of guilt, watching Julie walk to her car. Should I go to the doctor’s appointment?

  But what about the game? He felt sure he’d reminded Julie a month ago about the championship. The first game started at five. If they won, they’d play through the winner’s bracket. He had every intention of winning the championship trophy.

  If he met Julie at the doc’s office, he’d never make it to the rec center in time to warm up.

  If he gives us bad news, I’ll miss the game altogether. He banished the thought from his mind. It won’t be bad news. It won’t.

  Unlocking his Honda, Ethan tossed his gym bag into the backseat and glanced over the car’s top as Julie pulled out of the apartment parking lot. She waved and tooted her horn good-bye.

  Maybe I should call her. He reached for his cell and was about to dial her number when his phone rang.

  He answered, “Ethan Lambert.”

  “Ethan, it’s Mark Benton. I won’t be able to make it to tonight’s game.”

  ❧

  “Listen up, it’s time to think about our spring concert.” Julie passed out sheet music to the White Birch Elementary fifth-grade orchestra students. “Take these home. Practice them.”

  A collective groan filled the room. “It’s only February, Mrs. Lambert.”

  “I know, I know. But let’s start practicing now so you don’t sound like a pack of hungry alley cats on a rainy night.”

  The girls giggled, the boys snickered, and when Cole Gunter started caterwauling, the whole class joined him.

  “All right, all right.” Julie held up her hands for silence, laughing. “If that noise doesn’t frighten you into practicing, I don’t know what will. Make sure you don’t sound like that for the spring concert. And, Cole, let’s get you signed up for chorus.”

  The ten- and eleven-year-olds laughed. Julie ruffled Cole’s hair.

&n
bsp; When the end-of-class bell rang, the kids scurried for the door, banging their instruments against the doorway on their way out. Julie cringed at the sound of the cases crashing against metal but called after them, “Don’t forget, practice!”

  She glanced at her watch. Three thirty. A nervous twitch made her feel lightheaded. In thirty minutes, she’d be in Dr. Patterson’s office. The pizza plate she’d picked for lunch didn’t seem like such a good idea right now. She pressed her hand on her abdomen. Please, Lord, please let him have good news.

  Julie stared out the classroom window for a few minutes, waiting for a trickle of peace, fragments of the past few years flying through her thoughts. She’d been so hopeful when they sat in Dr. Patterson’s office three years ago. He’d regaled them with success stories, explained the newest procedures and medications.

  So far, none had worked for her.

  “You still here, girl?” Sophia Caraballo strolled into Julie’s classroom, hands on her hips.

  Julie turned from the window. “Yeah, just thinking. I should grade these papers, though.” She walked to her desk, motioning at the pile.

  Sophia picked up the top sheet. “ ‘Why I Love Music.’ ”

  “Come on, Sophia.” Julie reached for the paper, but Sophia slapped her hand away. “I love music because it makes my mom smile after my dad yells at her.” The svelte, overdone blond peered at Julie. “Now, that is sad.”

  Julie snatched the composition from her friend. “Yes, it is.” She filed the stack of papers in her shoulder tote. “Now I’ve got to go or I’ll be late.”

  “You nervous?”

  “No.” She regarded Sophia. “Yes. Well, more anxious than nervous. I’m trying to let go and let God have control of the situation, but it’s hard.” Julie walked to the door and flipped off the classroom light, picking up her coat from the wall hook.

  “What do you think he’ll say?” Sophia walked with Julie down the hall toward the front doors.

  “That everything is all right. Give it more time.” Julie gave Sophia a halfhearted smile. She ignored the fretful emotions that challenged her confidence.

  “Is Ethan meeting you there?” Sophia asked.

  Julie shook her head. “He’s busy today.”

  “Busy? Are you kidding me?” Sophia grabbed her friend by the arm. “What a cad.”

  “He’s not a cad, Sophia. He does have a lot on his plate, running production for Lambert’s Furniture.”

  “So much he can’t make this important appointment? His cousin is his boss, for crying out loud.”

  Julie sighed, not wanting to hash out her marriage issues with the school secretary. Despite her friendship, Sophia had a gossip’s tongue.

  “I’ll talk to you later.” Julie gave her a small hug and shoved open the glass door, cold air rushing past.

  Sophia shivered. “Call me, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  On the trip across town to Dr. Patterson’s office, Julie’s anxiety increased. She tried to pray with faith, but after the years of trying, failing, and trying again, her hope waned. “Lord, give me courage, please.”

  It bothered her that Ethan didn’t want to come. She was as weary of the medical process as he was. Even more so. How could he leave her alone for this important appointment, the one that could make or break their hopes? He’d missed one or two before, but this one. . .

  In the waiting room, Julie fidgeted in her chair and wondered why she’d bothered to press the speed limit to be on time. “Hurry up and wait,” she muttered to herself.

  She flipped through a parenting magazine before realizing what she was doing. She tossed it aside. Fishing her cell from her purse, Julie dialed Ethan. If she reminded him, he might come. Maybe. But he didn’t answer his cell or office phone.

  “Julie, you can go back now.” The nurse behind the glass smiled and motioned to the inner-office door.

  “Thanks, Amy.”

  “Good to see you.”

  “You, too.”

  In Dr. Patterson’s wide, cluttered office, Julie lowered herself into the soft leather chair across from his desk.

  “Well, young lady, how are you today?” Dr. Patterson came in after her, chipper and smiling. He sat with a thud in his worn leather chair.

  Julie clasped her hands in her lap and leaned toward him, as if to draw on his gentle strength. “Fine, thank you.”

  He smiled. The lines of his weathered, kind face fanned out under his eyes, and his demeanor calmed her inner turmoil.

  “Everything going okay?”

  “You tell me,” Julie said with a light laugh but winced thinking how glib she sounded.

  Dr. Patterson chuckled. “Guess I am the doctor.” He opened the file in front of him and reviewed information.

  Julie shifted, straightening her skirt and adjusting her wedding ring. Corkboards, cluttered with pictures of Dr. Patterson holding naked newborns in his hands, lined the office walls.

  Her heart palpitated at the idea of a child, her child, Ethan’s child.

  Dr. Patterson closed the folder. “Is Ethan joining us today?” He looked directly into her eyes, his expression molded with compassion.

  Her eyes burned as she shook her head no.

  “Should we call him?” Dr. Patterson placed his hand on the phone. “I can move a few things around in order to wait for him.”

  Julie swallowed the lump in her throat. “He’s working, then he has a basketball game. I’ll give him the news.”

  “A basketball game?” A flicker of concern flashed in Dr. Patterson’s eyes.

  “It’s the league championship.” Julie managed a smile. “You know how Ethan loves sports.”

  “Well, if you’re sure, I’ll go over the results with you. But if you and Ethan need to come in together, just give Amy a call. She’ll get you right in. What you and Ethan have been through can put a strain on a marriage.”

  “Yes, I know. I appreciate your offer.” Julie wrapped her arms around her waist and cuddled against the back of the chair. For a split second, she didn’t think she could endure waiting for the news.

  “I ran every test in the book, Julie. I even consulted with Dr. Llewellyn down in Manchester. He has a great deal of experience with infertility matters.”

  “Second opinions are always nice.” She tried to sound confident.

  The doctor slowly rose and walked around his desk, sitting in the chair next to her.

  The chair that Ethan should be sitting in.

  “You’re scaring me.” She trembled, and her tears spilled.

  He took her hands in his. “I know how much you and Ethan want children.”

  Julie freed her hand to wipe her cheeks. Dr. Patterson leaned over his desk for the tissue box.

  Taking the one he offered her, Julie blew her nose and balled the tissue in her hand. “This is not going to be good, is it?”

  “Well, it depends on your definition of good.”

  She smiled despite her tears. “Grandchildren for my parents.”

  Dr. Patterson sighed. A chill slithered down Julie’s spine.

  “My dear, unless God intervenes, the test results show that you and Ethan have a very, very slim chance of conceiving and an even slimmer chance of carrying a child to term.”

  “No, please, Dr. Patterson.” Julie shook her head, sobbing. “There must be something else we can do.”

  “We’ve done all we can do, Julie.”

  “But I’ve gotten pregnant before. Surely—”

  “Yes, nine years ago, and you miscarried.”

  The words pierced Julie’s heart as if the news of her miscarriage were fresh and current. She’d convinced herself it was the business of college, grad school, and Ethan’s long days learning the production of Lambert’s Furniture that prevented them from conceiving again.

  “The endometriosis caused a lot of scarring.” Dr. Patterson spoke with care. “Your womb can’t support a pregnancy.”

  “What about a second surgery? Can’t surgery corr
ect it?”

  Dr. Patterson shook his head and comforted Julie with a fatherly touch on her shoulder. “The last surgery didn’t improve your situation. With a second, you risk more scarring. Perhaps God has other plans for you and Ethan.”

  Julie’s shoulders slumped, and she buried her face in her hands. Dr. Patterson slipped his arm around her. She leaned against him and wept.

  Two

  Late in the afternoon, Ethan pressed Send, e-mailing the last compliancy report to the environmental inspector’s office. He felt spent, his day consumed by the tedious review of Lambert’s Furniture’s environmental practices.

  He’d not planned to answer waste disposal questions for the second time in six months. His to-do list looked the same this afternoon as it did this morning. And he still needed a big man for tonight’s game.

  “Is the inspector’s report done?” Will Adams, Ethan’s cousin and president of Lambert’s Furniture, came in and sat down.

  Ethan nodded. “It’s done, but, Will, those guys have to leave us alone. That’s the second visit.”

  “I know, but we want to cooperate. Otherwise, they’ll think we’re hiding something.”

  Ethan leaned back, hands clasped behind his head. “Guess this is why you pay me the big bucks. I didn’t get an industrial engineering degree for nothing.”

  Will laughed. “Big bucks? If that’s what you want to call it, you’re more than welcome. I wish I could pay you big bucks.”

  Ethan chuckled, shifting to work on his computer. “Well, when we get this new warehouse built, then we’ll talk. I didn’t have time to call the contractor, by the way.”

  Will checked his handheld personal data assistant. “Let’s meet on that tomorrow morning. The new warehouse is key to our growth.”

  Ethan clicked on his computer calendar. “What time?”

  “Nine is fine.”

  Ethan glanced at Will. “Bet Grandpa never imagined his little wood and whittle company would ever get this big.”

  Will tapped on his data assistant, nodding with a smile. In another second, he looked up and said, “Ethan, I drove past Milo Park on my way back from the town council meeting.”

  “Yeah?” Ethan typed in his reminder about tomorrow morning’s meeting. Meet with Will re: warehouse contractor.