Make Room for Baby

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  “Now that’s a honeymoon.” Sonny sighed enviously, snapping photos of that, too.

  Ignoring the flash and whir of the camera, Tad gave in to the bittersweet pangs of desire and the urge to be close to her again. How long had it been, he wondered, shifting his hands to the soft skin of her upturned face, since he’d wanted anything even half as much as he wanted Abby? How long since he’d ached with pleasure and been more drawn to the present and the future than haunted by the past?

  As Sonny came closer, still snapping photos manically, Abby groaned low in her throat and pushed against Tad’s chest.

  Reluctantly he broke off the kiss. Abby’s eyes were liquid pools of fire, reminding him that she had not agreed to have another honeymoon with him here. Which was just too bad, Tad thought, on yet another whisper of regret. Because he wanted one and thought they should have one.

  “Back to the tour,” Abby ordered.

  She could hold him—and the possibility of making love again—off for a while. But not, if that scorching kiss was any indication, forever, Tad knew.

  “So how much of this stuff is going to stay and how much is going to be hauled to the junkyard?” Sonny asked as he wandered into the bedroom-turned-study across the hall and paused to take an up-close-and-personal-photograph of an ugly brown Naugahyde recliner.

  “That’s yet to be decided,” Abby said, knowing that was one piece that was definitely going to have to go.

  “But the chair’ll go to the dump, right?” Sonny said.

  If she had her way? “Absolutely,” Abby said.

  “Not on your life,” Tad said. “This chair stays. It has history.” It was not only where he’d been sleeping ever since he’d been back in Blossom, it was also his first ever furniture purchase. He’d had it all through his college days, and it had been in storage ever since. Now that he finally had a home, after all those years as a roving reporter, he wanted it with him; he wanted it in a place of honor. Abby, however, refused to understand that. To her it was just a piece of furniture that was hopelessly out-of-date.

  “I’m thinking attic or garage,” Abby said.

  Tad smiled, as willing to wage war on this as she was. “I’m thinking main-floor living room,” he countered.

  “There isn’t an interior designer in the world who’d agree to that,” Abby replied hotly, “never mind consult for free and put her name to a room with that piece of history in it.”

  Tad had the sense Abby wanted to pick a fight with him. More surprising, he wanted to pick one with her, too. He kept his eyes level on hers. “The chair stays,” he said firmly.

  Abby glared at him. “Not it if messes up my first big series for the new Lifestyle section, it doesn’t.”

  “Hey,” Sonny said, grinning, as he snapped a couple of photos of the two of them squaring off toe-to-toe. “A lovers’ tiff. Great. Maybe we can put this in the paper, too!” he crowed victoriously.

  “Like hell we will,” Tad growled as the doorbell sounded again downstairs. “There are some things, kid, that stay private.”

  On that, Abby quite agreed. She didn’t want any of her private life played out for the newspapers the way her famous parents’ various highs and lows had been. Glad to be able to change the subject, she glanced at her watch. “That’s probably the interior designer,” Abby said.

  “You finish showing Sonny around. I’ll bring the designer up.” Tad hurried off.

  “He’s a little testy about the chair, isn’t he?” Sonny said as he walked into the room that would one day be their child’s nursery and took photos of that, too.

  “Tad’s putting a lot of pressure on himself to make this paper a success,” Abby explained. Worse, she had the feeling that this living-together business was not exactly how either of them had envisioned it.

  When she’d agreed to stay, she’d expected them to live together but still go their own separate ways. And while that was true to a point—Tad had been busy covering various community events, introducing himself and his plans for the paper via editorials, and penning much of the routine news—he had also been reveling in his newfound status as brand-new husband and father to be in a way that surprised her. For on that score, Abby knew, much to her own discomfiture, he had the unabashed envy of many of the men in town.

  Worse, newlywed jokes—like the one Sonny had just made about the lovers’ tiff—had abounded wherever they went, and Tad did nothing to discourage them. Instead, to her mounting exasperation, he seemed to welcome the kidding around with an audacious smile and a twinkle in his eyes that left no doubt as to the libidinous nature of his thoughts. Or his joy over the baby they were expecting.

  Abby felt a mounting joy and anticipation, too. It went without saying that the day she and Tad welcomed their baby into the world would be among the happiest in their lives. But the fishbowl atmosphere of the small town reminded her of the past and made her want to bury herself in her work all the more. There was safety there, in the acquisition, writing and editing of various articles. There was no safety in their relationship when she knew—because of the hurried way it had come about and because he would only let her get so close to him—that it was doomed to end.

  Not that this stopped her from fantasizing about what might have been if only they’d shared the same dreams and aspirations, Abby mused while Sonny took photos of the attic. She often found herself wondering what it would take to get Tad to give up this pipe dream and go back to New York so she could find another job and resume her career as a magazine editor. With his experience and reputation, she knew Tad would have no trouble finding a job at a big-city newspaper. And if they were both living in the same area, they could stay together permanently, just as they’d originally planned.

  But he wasn’t willing to compromise, Abby reminded herself grimly. Instead, he expected her to give up everything to follow his dream. And that just wasn’t fair. And there were other things that bugged her, too, she thought as she led Sonny back downstairs. Like the way he was always pushing milk and vitamin supplements on her. And while he’d said he would give her free rein over the house decor, he hadn’t told her that he wanted to keep every ragged piece of furniture and memorabilia he’d had in storage since his college days. A fact that made her job overseeing the redecoration of their home all that much harder.

  But maybe, Abby thought, as she strode toward the lovely thirty-something woman in red standing in the front hall chatting with Tad, Donna Delaney would be able to help.

  Tad looked up at her, surprised. “You didn’t tell me you’d hired Donna.”

  “Do you two know each other?” Abby said, amazed at the camaraderie between them.

  Donna threw back her head and laughed. “Do we!”

  Chapter Five

  “We’re old fishing buddies,” Tad explained.

  Donna nodded. “We met one year when Tad was on one of his solo summer visits to see his aunt Sadie.”

  “I used to spend a couple of weeks here with Sadie every summer no matter where my parents were living at the time,” Tad said.

  “And those visits became even more important after...” Donna caught Tad’s look and the subtle but unmistakable wish she not confide more. An understanding that eluded Abby passed between them, then Donna shrugged and—to Abby’s frustration—continued in a low friendly tone, “Well, anyway, we lost touch about ten years ago when Tad stopped coming around for those long visits with Sadie and my folks moved to Charlotte.”

  “And let’s not forget your marriage,” Tad said, grinning. Arms braced on either side of him, his ankles crossed in front of him, he relaxed against the banister. “Donna was just showing me pictures of her husband, Ron, and their three kids.” He cast Donna an admiring almost envious glance that reminded Abby how much he wanted the baby she was carrying inside her. “You’ve got quite a crew there.”

  “Thanks.” Donna beamed. “They really keep me hopping. You and Abby will have to come by sometime and meet them.”

  “Look forward to
it,” Tad said. He straightened and turned to Sonny. Suddenly both men were braced for action. “Ready to go out and get the pictures of the garage and that wilderness we call a backyard?”

  Sonny nodded. The two men left, talking about what Tad proposed they shoot.

  “You didn’t tell me you knew Tad,” Abby said as she began to walk Donna through the main floor. As she stepped over a stack of papers, she heard another little rip and felt her skirt seam widen another inch.

  Donna acknowledged this was so with a glittering smile. “I wanted to get this job on my own merit if I got it. I didn’t want anyone accusing me of pulling strings.” She paused and gave Abby a woman-to-woman look. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” Abby said, respecting the path Donna had taken even as jealousy stirred inside her at the thought of Tad with another woman, even way back when. Which meant what? she wondered, stunned by the unfamiliar emotion. That she was more possessive of Tad and the brief passionate affair they’d had than she knew?

  Abby swallowed as her skirt slipped a little lower on her hips, thanks to the ever-widening rip in the seam. Discreetly Abby pressed a hand over the tear. “So were you as surprised as everyone else when Tad bought the Blossom Weekly News?” Abby asked Donna as she tried, through the fabric of her jacket, to keep the unraveling side seam of her skirt together.

  “Not really.” On the other side of Abby, Donna smiled as she removed a pen and pad from her briefcase and began to take notes. “Tad’s always been the kind of guy who wants to try everything once. That’s why I wasn’t surprised when I heard he’d become a roving reporter years ago. The job suited him perfectly. He could see every part of the world, get clued in to what was happening there and then move on to the next adventure.”

  And then move on to the next adventure. Was that what she and the baby were? Abby wondered. The next adventure?

  “Were you surprised to hear he was married?” Abby asked, praying her skirt would stay together long enough to get through this meeting. Like it or not, she was really going to have to get some maternity clothes.

  “No.” Donna’s green eyes sparkled with an almost sisterly affection. “He was always a big hit with the babes. And he absolutely adored kids. Still does. But then, you probably know that from the amount of articles he’s done on children and children’s issues around the world.”

  Actually Abby hadn’t known that. Which just went to show, she thought as she led the way upstairs to the second floor and felt her skirt slip another inch, how little she and Tad really knew about each other.

  The next few minutes were taken over by talk about the house. To Abby’s delight, Donna’s view of what could and should be done matched hers to an enviable degree, and they were still bubbling over with plans when Tad and Sonny came back in looking equally satisfied with the way things were going.

  Tad smiled at Donna. “So, we’ll see you at the open house at seven o’clock, then?” he asked her.

  “Absolutely,” Donna said. “And I’ll bring my portfolio, too.”

  Was she the only one who hadn’t a clue what they were talking about? Abby wondered, confused. She shot a look at Tad, then turned to Sonny and Donna. “What open house?”

  “You know, at the paper tonight,” Sonny said. “We’re all supposed to be there with bells and whistles on.”

  “No, I didn’t know,” Abby enunciated carefully.

  “We’ve been talking about it all week at the staff meetings,” Tad explained.

  Most of which Abby had missed in her attempts to avoid spending too much time with her new husband. Nevertheless Tad could have told her about it, couldn’t he? Unless he’d been trying to make a point by deliberately leaving her out.

  “That’s right,” Sonny said thoughtfully as he put his cameras away. “You weren’t there, were you?”

  “No, I wasn’t.” Abby forced a smile and saved face as best she could. “But it sounds like a good idea.”

  “We thought it would help drum up advertising,” Tad said as their eyes connected briefly.

  Donna glanced at her watch. “I want to take a quick look at the backyard and then I’ve got to head over to the pool to get the kids before I swing on home.” She dashed off.

  Sonny said, “I’ve got all I need.”

  Seconds later both had exited and Abby and Tad were left alone. Tad held her glance. And suddenly saw just how steamed she was at having been left out of the loop. He grimaced unhappily. “I’ve done it now, haven’t I?” he said.

  Knowing she had to get her ripped skirt off before it slid down her hips and fell off, Abby turned on her heel and headed for the stairs, her high heels making a sharp staccato on the polished wood floor.

  “What, no comment?” he said, following.

  Abby turned and shot him a sharp look over her shoulder, then raced up the stairs, her hips swaying provocatively beneath her skirt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I thought you knew,” he told her grimly.

  Abby gritted her teeth and stared around her morosely. The house that had seemed so full of possibilities only minutes earlier, now seemed like a metaphor for the confused state of her life. She kicked off her heels, stepped out of her ripped skirt, tossed it on the bed and folded her arms. “Obviously.”

  Outwardly Abby looked calm, but Tad knew her well enough to realize she was about to explode. He was sorry he was responsible for the stress. He wasn’t sorry he had asked her to work with him on the newspaper. It was not only a good challenge for them both professionally, it was an activity that was guaranteed to give them much satisfaction and bring them much closer probably by the time the baby was born. But for the moment they had this calamity to work through.

  Reluctantly he tore his eyes from the sight of her shapely, stocking-clad legs. He could still recall how they’d felt wrapped around his waist. He wanted to feel them there again.

  “It’s not as if you’ve missed anything,” he told Abby calmly as hot excited color poured into her cheeks. “Nothing’s happened yet. You can still be there—”

  “How do you know?” Abby interrupted, her golden-brown eyes flashing as she tore off her jacket, too.

  They squared off in silence as Abby slipped back into the short kimono robe. “Can you be there?” Tad asked finally, reminded by the way she was standing, feet planted slightly apart, fists propped on her hips, that his wife never gave an inch without a major battle of wills. Luckily he liked a challenge. And if there was one thing Abby Kildaire McFarlane was, he thought admiringly, it was a challenge.

  “Does it matter?” Abby glared at him, the pouting thrust of her lower lip letting him know she felt furious, humiliated and embarrassed by the oversight.

  He cleared a place on the rumpled covers of the bed and sat down. “Don’t be like that.”

  Abby didn’t want to, but given what had just transpired, she was unable to help feeling hurt and a little left out. Plus, like it or not, there was the larger problem of what to wear. Business attire was called for. And she had just ripped the very last skirt she could fit into.

  “The open house is in two hours,” she reported grimly. Worse, the closest maternity store was a good forty-five-minute drive away. Not that this was all Tad’s fault. She really should have taken the time to shop before this situation came up. But it was too late now for regrets.

  Tad continued to look perplexed. “Do you want to skip it?” he asked. “Because if you do, I’ll cover for you.”

  The fight went out of Abby as swiftly as it had come. Exhausted, she sat down next to Tad on the side of the bed. “No, I don’t want to skip it,” she said wearily. “But unless I suddenly find myself able to conjure up a dress out of a bed sheet, I really can’t go. I don’t have anything I can fit into except a pair of jogging shorts, and that would hardly do.”

  “The suit you just had on was a knockout.”

  Wordlessly Abby handed him the skirt and pointed out the rip. “Why didn’t you say so?” T
ad folded her skirt neatly and handed it back to her. “I can solve this problem for you.” It was one of the few things he could do.

  “I don’t know how,” Abby retorted.

  Tad winked. “I’ll show you,” he told her confidently. Five minutes later he revealed the “surprise” a little early. “Luckily Aunt Sadie had already finished the first dress,” he told Abby. “She’s bringing it over right away.”

  “She’s really planning to sew a whole wardrobe for me?” Abby asked, amazed by the surprise Tad’s aunt had been planning. Her own parents had never done anything for her themselves they could hire out.

  Tad nodded. “This is her first grandnephew or niece. She’s very excited. And she wanted to welcome you into the family.”

  Abby told herself it was the unexpected thoughtfulness of the gesture—not the idea of really becoming a part of his family and spending a lifetime with Tad here in Blossom—that had her head swimming and her heart beating triple time. “That’s really nice,” Abby said appreciatively. Incredibly nice.

  “No doubt about it. Aunt Sadie is one fine lady.” Tad slipped his fingers beneath Abby’s chin, lifted her face and studied her eyes. His own eyes softened as he leaned forward and gently kissed her cheek. “And in case I haven’t told you lately...so are you.”

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER Abby stood in front of the mirror. As Abby had anticipated, Aunt Sadie was an excellent seamstress. The only problem was, as far as maternity dresses went, Aunt Sadie was stuck firmly in another era. The bright pink dress was covered with fat white polka dots and featured a white Peter Pan collar, puffed sleeves that threatened to overwhelm the entire dress and a huge bow. Made to be worn right up until the day of delivery, the tea-length dress fell in voluminous folds that literally threatened to swallow Abby whole. She looked both fat and ridiculous. So ridiculous she didn’t know how she was going to muster the courage to model the garment in her own home.