Make Room for Baby

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  Using her computer mouse, Abby changed the positions of two of the articles. “There’s no such thing as a little kiss from Tad,” she grumbled. Each one knocked her socks off.

  “So? I know we’re at work, but no one here minds,” Sadie was quick to reassure her. “In fact, we all kind of enjoy watching the sparks fly between the two of you.” She looked at Abby closely. “The question is, why are you holding that nephew of mine at arm’s length?” She held up a hand, silencing Abby’s protest “I’d have to be an idiot not to notice the yearning looks and touches and near kisses. Yet he doesn’t seem to act on any of those very often.”

  “It’s complicated” was all Abby could say.

  “Not that complicated,” Sadie replied firmly. She pulled up her chair so the two of them were sitting knee to knee and took Abby’s hands in hers. “Listen to me, sweetheart. When I was your age, I thought just the way you’re thinking. But now I know. True love comes along so rarely. Maybe once in a lifetime.” Sadie sighed wistfully. “I’ve never had it, much to my regret. But if I had ever felt the magic that you and Tad are feeling,” she said firmly, laying a hand across her heart, “I sure as heck wouldn’t squander it.”

  Was that what she was doing? Abby wondered uncomfortably. Or was she merely being practical and saving them all from more hurt?

  “IS IT MY IMAGINATION or are Sadie and Raymond attracted to each other?” Abby asked Tad that night as they sifted through the three proposed decors for the entryway and living room—the first rooms Donna was proposing they redo for the newspaper.

  Tad picked up a swatch of wall-to-wall Berber carpet and compared it to a sketch of an Oriental rug over a hardwood floor that dominated another sketch. As he studied both thoughtfully, he said, “I think there’s definitely something going on there. Raymond’s been a widower for the last ten years, you know. He never had any kids, either, and he said something to me the other day about being really tired of the bachelor life.”

  Abby dropped a swatch of drapery fabric meant to go with the Oriental rug. “You think he was talking about getting something going with Sadie?”

  Tad shrugged and sat back on the sofa. “Wouldn’t surprise me. Every time I turn around those two are making up some excuse to go talk to each other.”

  Abby discarded a third sketch that favored a stark modern decor. She’d noticed Tad didn’t like it much, either. “Hmm.”

  Tad studied her. “What are you thinking?”

  Probably the same thing you are. “I hope Sadie finds some romance.”

  Tad took Abby’s hand in his. He turned it palm side up on his knee and absently stroked her open palm from fingertip to wrist. “It’d be nice, wouldn’t it,” he mused aloud, a hopeful light coming into his eyes, “if she didn’t have to spend her golden years alone?”

  “Very.” Abby clasped Tad’s hand in hers, squeezed. “Although there’s the age difference. Raymond is...what?”

  Tad frowned. “Nine years younger than she is.”

  Abby sighed. “Think that might be a problem?”

  “I don’t know.” Tad’s worried scowl deepened. “But there’s no use borrowing trouble since they don’t have anything but a friendship at this point.” He nodded at the trio of sketches in front of them. “So what do you think? Should we go with the carpet and the oak furniture, the wood floors and Oriental rugs, or the stark ultramodern look?”

  Abby hesitated. “If you still want to keep your lounge chair and use it to a build a reading corner in the living room—”

  “I do,” Tad said firmly.

  “—then I suggest you recover your chair and go with the oak furniture and Berber carpet. But,” Abby amended quickly, feeling a little guilty for taking such an active part in decisions that were mainly going to affect him, “it really should be your decision since you’re the one who’s going to be living here for the long haul.”

  Tad’s face changed abruptly. “Right.” He let go of her hand and stood abruptly.

  Guilt flooded her anew, adding to the confused welter of emotions deep inside her and the disturbing feeling that her life was spinning way out of control. Abby bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. Neither was she willing to lead him on. She pressed her lips together, able to feel a massive tension headache coming on. “I didn’t mean—”

  “I know what you meant, Abby,” Tad interrupted gruffly.

  Abby swallowed and tried again. “I just don’t think we should lose sight of our agreement.” She forced them both to deal with what she knew they’d both rather leave unsaid. “We have to be practical here,” she insisted firmly. We have to protect ourselves from getting hurt. And in this one instance her parents were right. Given the hasty impulsive way it had happened, her marriage didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of surviving. Odds were it would be over as soon as their baby was born, if not before.

  “Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?” Tad grabbed his jacket and headed into the front hall.

  Abby followed him. She was determined to get an answer about the decorating details even if he was being difficult. “I have to tell Donna tomorrow if you want this done, photographed and in the paper two weeks from now.”

  “Then you decide,” Tad told her as he grabbed his car keys. “It doesn’t really matter to me, anyway. One decor is as good as any other. Just make sure my chair stays—and if it is recovered, it has to be recovered in brown!”

  Her heart sinking at the thought of how she’d hurt him when all she’d been doing was trying to protect him, Abby watched him stride out the door. She leaned against the jamb, all too aware that it was late, nearly ten-thirty. “Where are you going now?” There wasn’t much open in Blossom at that time of night, except one fast-food restaurant and the tavern.

  Tad stopped and gave her a look. “Why should you care? As you’ve pointed out on more than one occasion, this marriage is only a temporary convenience.”

  His angry words hit her like a stab to the heart. She held out a beseeching hand. “Tad, please,” she said. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

  “I don’t want to fight with you, either, which is exactly why I’m leaving.”

  Just like her parents had left each other and every spouse they’d had since, Abby thought, as feelings of hurt and disillusionment came back to haunt her anew.

  “Don’t wait up,” Tad said indifferently over his shoulder as he climbed into his Jeep.

  TAD DROVE AWAY from the white elephant and headed for the outskirts of town. He hadn’t told Abby where he was going because he didn’t know where he was going. He only knew he didn’t want to be around people at this moment, and he didn’t want to face what was, more and more, looking like the inevitable end to his marriage to Abby.

  He knew she felt unstable due to their impulsive marriage, the loss of her job, their relocation to North Carolina and the baby. The truth was, Tad acknowledged to himself as he left the Blossom city limits and headed out into the countryside, he felt the same. His feelings for Abby were not going to change, but that did not mean he could make her love him the way she needed to love him to make their marriage last.

  Tad sighed as he turned his Jeep onto yet another winding country road. He was just going to have to find a way to convince her they did belong together, after all, and he was going to have to do that by finding a happy medium and not moving too fast or too slow. The one thing they weren’t going to do, he decided firmly as he eased his foot off the accelerator, was talk about it anymore. They had done that enough as it was, to unhappy result.

  Tad slowed as he came upon a shiny red pickup truck pulled over to the side of the road. Ernest Lee Scruggs, the head mechanic over at Joe Don Jerome’s car dealership was standing with his head under the hood.

  Tad parked behind the disabled vehicle and got out. “Hey there, Ernest Lee,” Tad said.

  The mechanic nodded. “Hey there, yourself,” he said grimly.

  “That’s a new truck, isn’t it?” Tad asked.

 
“You better believe it.” Ernest Lee wiped his grease-stained hands on a rag. “It’s less than a month old. And it just up and quit on me. The durn thing is deader than a doornail.”

  Tad regarded the mechanic sympathetically. “Want me to call for a tow truck on my cell phone?”

  Ernest Lee sighed and banged the hood down. “Might as well. Thanks, Tad.”

  Tad made the call. Figuring this was as good a chance as any to see what he could find out about Ernest Lee’s boss and whatever sleazy deals Jerome and his two cohorts might be in, Tad leaned against the side of the truck and prepared to wait it out with Ernest Lee.

  “I guess you heard I’m not too popular with your boss,” Tad said.

  Ernest Lee rolled his eyes. “Ain’t that the truth.”

  “They want me to take out my Troubleshooter phone line down at the paper.”

  “Yeah. I heard.”

  “Any idea why Joe Don and his buddies would be so opposed to it?”

  Ernest Lee continued looking at the side of the road. Was it his imagination, Tad wondered, or was Ernest Lee beginning to look a little tense?

  “They probably just don’t want you stirring up trouble.”

  “I wouldn’t be creating trouble, Ernest Lee. Just reporting on trouble that already exists. There’s a difference.”

  Ernest Lee was silent. Finally he said, “Joe Don has the only car dealership in town. He talks to Nowell down at the bank and Cullen over at the insurance place and makes sure people that might not otherwise qualify for loans or be able to get insurance get it. That’s a good thing.”

  “If he’s running an honest business, it’s a good thing,” Tad agreed as a pair of headlights appeared in the distance. “If he’s not, that’s something else again.”

  “There’s my tow truck,” Ernest Lee said.

  The conversation was over. Tad had managed to get one thing out of Ernest Lee. The Three Stooges were—at the very least—bending the rules to help local residents buy cars. And while that might have been laudable in some cases, Tad had the feeling that there was more going on than just that. And whatever it was, was probably not only benefiting the Three Stooges, but also illegal or unethical as hell. As the only newsman in town, it was up to him to find out what that was. And damned if he wasn’t going to do just that, Tad decided firmly, with or without Ernest Lee’s help.

  “IF IT WAS ME, I’d forget about Tad’s lounge chair, relegate it to some unseen unimportant area of the house, like the attic or the garage, and go with the design scheme that includes the Oriental carpet,” Yvonne told Abby over the long-distance line. “But I’m not a home-and-garden editor, who instinctively knows what readers want to see in their homes and yards at any given time. And I’m not the one who’s going to be living there. So what gives, kiddo? Why do you really need my advice? And for the record, I don’t for one minute buy the story that you need my help with the decor decision.”

  Abby let out a breath. “Okay, here it is. I feel guilty making a decision on the house since I’m not going to be living here permanently. And yet I know it’s what I’m expected to do...on some wifely level.” And she had no idea at all about how to be a good wife to Tad or anyone else. She only knew, from watching her parents’ numerous marriages fall apart, that when the passion faded and people were left with the reality of a disintegrating relationship, it could get ugly. Ugly enough to destroy everything good and decent that had gone before. Baby or no baby, she did not want that to happen to her and Tad.

  Yvonne paused. “Then you’re going back to magazine work?”

  Like there could be any doubt about that! “Yes,” Abby said. “As soon as possible after the baby is born.”

  Another silence on Yvonne’s part, though somewhat briefer. “Have you started looking for a job?”

  Abby went to the freezer and got out a pint of Chunky Monkey ice cream. “No. But maybe it’s time I got back to that.” Maybe that would make her feel like her life was back under control, she thought as she searched in the silverware drawer for a spoon. “Do you know any headhunters?”

  “Absolutely. One in particular, too.”

  Abby put down her ice cream long enough to grab a pen and paper. “Give me her name and number.”

  They talked a few minutes more, then Abby hung up the phone. Carton of Chunky Monkey in hand, she looked at the trio of designs one more time, realized she’d eaten half the ice cream in one sitting and reluctantly put it away, no decision made. Her stomach still growling hungrily—what was it about pregnancy and these eating binges? she wondered—she went upstairs to bed.

  The truth was, she thought as she slipped into her nightgown, part of her very much wanted to see this marriage through. Part of her wanted to know if she could do what her parents had never managed—build something lasting and true in the marriage department. And, had she and Tad not had a baby on the way, had they both still been living their career dreams and working in New York City, maybe she could have risked everything falling apart and them detesting each other in the end if the passion that tempted them now eventually fizzled.

  But with their baby coming, their marriage continuing only because of her unexpected pregnancy, common sense dictated she take a much more practical approach. She and Tad had to stay friends; they had to build a lifelong relationship that would enable them to coparent their child effectively. Their baby’s happiness depended on it.

  So, Abby thought, tears slipping down her cheeks as she climbed into bed, she would have to put aside the remembered passion and nagging temptation and do what she knew to be best—continue to hold Tad at arm’s length.

  THE HOUSE WAS SILENT, the light in the master bedroom on when Tad finally got home at midnight. Wondering if he was the only one feeling bad about the tension between them earlier, he paused to look in on Abby. She was curled up in the double bed fast asleep. Not wanting to disturb her, he walked soundlessly across the floor to turn off the bedside lamp. And that was when he saw the tracks of tears on her face and knew she’d cried herself to sleep.

  Wondering if it was due to the words they’d come close to exchanging earlier or something much deeper, Tad pulled up the cover, and switched off the light.

  Maybe she thought he didn’t care. Well, he’d fix that first thing tomorrow morning.

  “I LIKE THE DECOR with the hardwood floors and Oriental rug for the living room,” he told her over breakfast.

  Abruptly Abby looked as though she might break into tears. But she didn’t. “Good.” She drained her milk and stood. “I’ll call Donna from the office.”

  “Want to drive in together?” Tad asked.

  Abby shook her head. “I think I’d rather walk.” She grabbed her briefcase, headed for the door and slammed the door behind her. Touché, Tad thought. I walked out on you last night. You walked out on me this morning. Maybe, if he was really lucky, tonight neither of them would walk out on the other.

  Unfortunately it did not look as if that was going to be the case when he got to the office. Abby was by turns stressed and surly. Midmorning she just got up and grabbed her briefcase. She stopped by his desk on the way out, waited until he got off the phone. “I’m going home.”

  Tad stood and reached into his pocket for his car keys. He handed them to her, feeling as though he could step on a land mine any second. “You feeling okay?” He studied her face. She seemed awfully flushed.

  Abby’s golden-brown eyes flashed. She shoved a hand through her hair. “Can’t I be in a bad mood every once in a while?” she snapped.

  Tad shrugged as activity in the office stopped and all eyes turned their way. “Well, sure you—”

  “Good.” Abby cut him off autocratically. “Because I am.” She handed him back the car keys and said, “Thanks, but I’d rather walk.” Then she waved to the rest of the staff. “Later, guys.” As she strode toward the door, she tossed off a last parting shot with a wry smile and self-deprecating humor. “Maybe by tonight my hormones will settle back into the nonlethal ra
nge.”

  “If you ask me, that was more than hormones,” Sadie said worriedly as soon as Abby had left.

  “She’s definitely not herself this morning,” Cindy said.

  Tell me about it, Tad thought. He’d been as nice as he could be all morning and still felt like he was dealing with a lioness on the prowl.

  “Are you sure she’s feeling okay?” Raymond asked.

  No. Tad wasn’t. More to the point, he realized uncomfortably, he didn’t even know what to look for when it came to danger signs. He found himself in Doc Harlan’s office ten minutes later.

  Doc listened intently while Tad quickly brought him up to date. He knew if anyone would know what to do, it was Doc, who’d been married thirty-five years, had six kids and sixteen grandchildren and, according to local lore, handled every moment of it like a pro.

  “Sounds like your first instincts were right,” Doc conceded. He sat back in his chair and steepled his hands in front of him. “It probably is hormones causing Abby’s mood swings. Or it could just be the fact that she’s pregnant. Her body and indeed her whole life are both undergoing tremendous changes right now. We men think we understand, but I have a feeling we don’t, since we aren’t the ones carrying the little one around inside us. So I’m going to give you a few simple rules to follow that should help even things out a bit. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Tad said. At this point he was willing to try anything. He didn’t want Abby crying herself to sleep again or leaving the office in a huff.

  Doc held up the index finger on his right hand. “Rule number one—agree with her about everything, no matter what.”

  Tad leaned forward in his chair. “But—”

  “No buts,” Doc said from the other side of the desk. “Just agree with her. You’ll both be a lot happier. Rule number two—give her presents for no reason, frequently.” Doc smiled encouragingly. “You’ll be surprised how much that’ll help her mood if she knows you’re thinking of her. And last but not least, rule number three—and this is very important, Tad—you need to let her know you love her.”