by Wendy Owens
“So what’s this mean?” I ask softly.
“This check is to help you with the birth expenses and keep you going for a while. We can work out payments for the future later,” he says, wiping his eyes and straightening in the chair.
“So you don’t want to be in this child’s life?” I ask, but I don’t know what I want his answer to be.
He shakes his head. “I didn’t say that. But I want to leave that up to you."
"What you want to do shouldn’t be my decision,” I protest.
“I’ve done so much wrong in my life, and I want to do this right. I’d love to stay in contact, and I want to know what’s happening with the kid. So it’s not that I don’t want to be in his life. I don’t want him growing up with screwed up parents like I did. Hell, I feel like my life is so messed up right now, this kid will hate me.”
“I don’t have any magic answers either, but I do have one request. Don’t enter her life until you’re ready to be all in,” I explain. “I don’t want her getting to know you, and then you’re just gone one day.”
He runs his fingers through his hair and closes his eyes for a moment; he shifts forward in his seat. He bites his top lip as he considers his words. “I know I’m not ready to be a dad right now, but I promise, if I ever believe I am, I’ll make sure I prove it to you first. I at least owe you two that.”
“Jack …” A tear rolls down my cheek. I see the pain in him as he speaks to me. The regret of all the things he’s done.
He stands up and extends a hand. Instinctively, I grab it and once upright, I embrace him. I’m actually hugging him. Though I don’t love him, I no longer hate him either.
We separate, and a thought pops into my mind. “How will you explain this to your parents?”
“Let me worry about that.”
“Are you sure about this? We can work out some sort of visitation.”
He nods and squeezes my arm. “I know when we’re all ready, we’ll figure something out. Right now, I think you two will be better off without me. I’ve got to get my head straight.”
“Jack, you’re not all bad,” I remind him.
“I never said I was.” He laughs. “But I know I’m not dad material, at least not yet. Just promise me one thing.”
“What?” Part of me worries he’s fooled me, that he hasn’t changed at all, and the real plan is about to come to light.
“Be sure, and I mean really sure, before you let someone into our kid’s life.” His words shock me.
“I—” I don’t know how to respond.
“All I’m saying is, you trusted me, and look where that got you.” Leaning in, he gives me a kiss on the cheek.
I swallow hard; it hurts because I know he’s right. I did trust him. Maybe I’m a bad judge of character.
Jack glances over at Holden, who is glaring at him from behind the bar. “He seems nice, but just have both eyes open this time. You don’t deserve another guy like me.”
I walk him to the door, we exchange a few more words, and then, with one last hug he says goodbye to me.
“I’ll call you when it’s time?” I offer.
“I’d like that,” he replies, then he’s gone. My mind is racing. I’m full of hope. I want this to be real. More than anything I want Jack to be this man I just spoke to. There is a peace in knowing that the man I was willing to marry isn’t the complete scum of the Earth; he’s broken, but not evil. In the back of my mind, though, there is still the nagging voice that wonders if I just made a huge mistake.
Sliding up to the bar, a smile is plastered across my face. It’s hard not to be full of joy when one of the biggest worries in my life has dissolved. Not only has Jack freely chosen to give me custody, but he has also stepped up and committed to helping me support this child.
With my heart racing, all I want to do is hurry upstairs and write. I know I have to resist the urge. The dinner rush is about to start, and Holden will need my help with waitressing.
“What was that?” Holden growls. He has an expression on his face, one I haven’t seen from him before.
I don’t bother hiding my look of shock. “What are talking about?”
He leans across the bar and lowers his voice to a whisper, “Did you forget that he threatened to take your baby away from you?”
His voice is full of so much contempt it turns my stomach. “This isn’t any of your business,” I state directly.
“Belle.” When he says my name this time, it doesn’t have its normal effect on me. “You were hugging him, and you let him kiss you. I mean Christ—”
“Seriously? It was on my cheek. And like I said, it’s none of your business.”
“Oh really?” He huffs. “So when you need a place to stay and a job, then it’s my business, but not now?”
“You should stop,” I warn him, glaring.
“Oh, the truth is hard to hear, is it?” he presses.
“I mean it.” I can feel my nostrils flaring.
“I don’t understand how he blows in here, swinging punches a few days ago, and then today—” I don’t wait for him to finish speaking. I push off the bar and head up the stairs to my room. “Where are you going?” he shouts, but I choose to ignore his demands.
I make my way up the stairs as quickly as I can, which unfortunately isn’t very fast given my current state. I can already hear him, his footsteps pounding closer. When I get to the top I can hear him on the steps. I don’t wait, and I don’t slow down. I rush straight to my door, unlock it, and move inside. I’m about to close it behind me when his hand slides in and stops me.
“Don’t walk away from me while I’m talking to you,” he snarls, pushing open the door, stepping in, and closing it behind him.
I raise my eyebrows. “Excuse me? Don’t you dare tell me what to do. Who in the hell do you think you are?” I’m not able to remain calm any longer. The frustration has consumed me.
“I’m someone who cares about you and this baby,” he answers. But this only frustrates me more.
“Well, I didn’t ask you to.”
“No, you didn’t, but I fell in love with you, and that just goes with the territory.” The words fly out of his mouth and swirl around my head for a moment. He’s in love with me. He’s in love with me. He just said he’s in love with me. I let all the air out of my lungs and fall back onto the bed, sitting with a bounce. I don’t look at him. I can’t. One minute I was thrilled my life was becoming a little less complicated, and then he had to go and make it more complicated than ever.
“You think you love me,” I mutter quietly.
“Say what you will, but I know my heart.”
“You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder for days. How can you say that’s how you feel,” I argue.
He’s laughing now, then crosses the room to sit across from me. We make direct eye contact. “Don’t you get it?”
“Get what?”
He closes his eyes for a second. He looks so sad; I hate seeing him look this way. I’m angry at the way he spoke to me, but his sadness still makes me weary. When he reopens his eyes it startles me. There’s a sparkle of moisture in them. “You share something pretty incredible with him. I’ve been terrified that you’re going to leave and go back with him.”
“Are you serious?” I gasp in disbelief. To see a man like this—so sexy and so confident—feel so insecure, it’s more than I can wrap my head around.
“I know you’re not ready for a relationship, and I meant what I said. I’m willing to wait until you are. I just don’t know if I can handle you being with someone else.” His words cause the corner of my lips to lift into a half-smile. “Are you seriously getting pleasure out of this?”
I bite my bottom lip and lift my shoulders into a shrug. “Maybe.”
“Oh wow.” He laughs, hopping to his feet, his head rolling around on his shoulders.
“Come on, it’s cute, you’re jealous,” I tease.
He stops; he’s serious again. “Tell me you’re not
going back with him.”
I smile, and shake my head. “I’m not going back.”
With my words, his body language changes, and he swoops forward, pressing his lips against my forehead. I don’t have time to move away. “Good.” And then he’s gone, my door is still open, and I see him bounding down the stairs, practically soaring as he moves.
I’m still smiling. Why does it make me feel so good to know he fears me leaving? Then Jack’s warning is back in my thoughts. Perhaps he’s right in what he said. Maybe I’m out of my depth when it comes to Holden. I obviously feel something for him, but I had felt something for Jack once, too. I can’t imagine Holden ever hurting me in such a way, though until it happened, I never imagined Jack would either. My brain is going in circles.
That strong desire I had to write is gone, and now all I can seem to do is worry. I’ve tried to be cautious, and still, there it is—Holden loves me. If I want to keep my heart and this baby safe, I should walk away now, but I can’t seem to shake this feeling that I would be losing something once in a lifetime. How can I make a decision like this? Jack was right, though; it isn’t only my heart I am risking now.
There’s a knock at the door, but I don’t respond. The last thing I want to do is speak to anyone else. I feel like my room has been a constant hive of activity since I got back from my doctor appointment. Dr. Marshall assured me a lot of women experience a thinning of the wall around the baby at this point in their pregnancy; it is nothing abnormal. He would prefer, though, if I didn’t go into labor any sooner than thirty-eight weeks, and with that goal only a week away, he has ordered lots of rest.
Bea, Abner, and Holden have taken this to mean they must wait on me hand and foot. There have been tea, snacks, sweets, and thanks to Abner, a sandwich the size of my head brought up to me all within the last half-day. I know they mean well, but the constant attention is tiring.
Holden has also been frightening me with his topics of conversation lately. Only last night he asked me, out of nowhere, if I thought I would ever consider getting married, but not necessarily to him, he had added. I tripped over my words so severely he withdrew the question.
Then, in case the smothering affection from everyone wasn’t bad enough, I found out the baby could be here in as little as a week. All I want to do is write. Somehow, working on my manuscript helps me put the thoughts plaguing me to rest.
Jack’s warning to be careful of whom I trust, for the sake of our child, is not one I have been able to force from my mind. The harder Holden tries to convince me to give us a chance, the more it makes me suspicious and push him away. I knew Jack for years before we ever became engaged, and it ended up he was capable of an intense betrayal. How can I trust someone I’ve known for such a short amount of time?
The knocking continues at my door, interrupting my thoughts. My ignoring them won’t deter whoever it is. I turn and press myself up off the bed, crossing the room to the door. I crack it and peer out to get a look at my visitor.
Bea smiles at me. “I’m sorry to disturb you, dear, but can you come downstairs for a moment?”
I open the door the rest of the way and lean against the frame for support. “I was getting ready to take a nap,” I lie, but I assume working on my book won’t convince her to leave me alone.
“I promise it won’t take long,” she presses.
“The doctor wanted me to stay in bed—” I begin.
“It’s important, please.” There’s something in her stare that makes me listen. I nod and close the door, following her down the steps. Since I grew to the point where I’m having trouble seeing my feet, the narrow wooden staircase has become an annoyance. I hold tightly to the railing and shift myself down the steps one at a time.
When I make the last leap I realize Bea didn’t wait for me; she is already around the corner of the bar. Pressing my hand into my lower back, I cross the walkway and shift my body around.
“Surprise!” a thunderous cry comes from the dining area.
I feel my heart lodge itself in my throat, as I grip the counter and look out at the group of women in front of me. There are some faces I recognize right away. Bea, of course, who is standing directly in front of me at the edge of the group, her hands clasped together in anticipation.
Behind her I catch sight of Patricia, who works at the post office. Next to her is Abby, who I met at the beer brewing festival, and then there’s the woman down the street from the cattle farm … I think her name is Mary. There’s another half dozen women whose faces at least seem mildly familiar, but I can’t place their names.
I move forward a few steps, and my eyes wide, I ask, “What’s going on?”
With a huge smile plastered across her face, Bea points to a banner over the fireplace, the words BABY SHOWER prominently displayed. She walks forward a few steps, taking my hand into hers. “We all knew you couldn’t be home right now with your friends and family, so we wanted to celebrate with you.”
My breath catches as I rotate, soaking in the room. Everything is decorated in bright yellow streamers and balloons, a cheerful change from the winter outside. On the bar is a pile of gifts that spill over to the floor. On a table near the entrance is a cake with beautiful flowers adorning the edges.
“This is too much,” I gasp, raising my hand over my mouth. I can feel my legs begin to wobble, and I force myself not to cry, even though I have the sudden urge to bawl like a baby.
“Nonsense,” Bea says, waving a hand in my direction. She then takes my arm and leads me over to a circle of chairs. The women are chattering and offering me congratulations. With Bea’s assistance, I lower myself into a seat, the ladies quickly following suit.
I’ve been so consumed with the distractions of my life I haven’t had time to dwell on the fact that Kenzie was going to be missing one of the most important moments so far. And, even though I am furious with my mother, there’s an ache in my heart that she isn’t going to be at my side—a part of the birth of her first grandchild.
My head is swimming. I want to squeeze Bea and never let her go. Instead of distracting myself with my manuscript, I’m immersing myself in pregnancy games, conversations with other mothers, and opening baby gifts. I’m not sure this day could get any better. My heart is warm, and I’m thankful for the gift that is Bea.
I take a deep breath and prepare to type the words. I can hardly believe this moment is already here. The End scrolls across the bottom of the bright white screen, and I release the air in my lungs. I did it. I finished an entire manuscript, and I think it might actually be pretty good.
Opening my email, I flip through my contact list. After landing on Kenzie’s name, I attach the file. I instruct her to be brutally honest and hit send. So far she has loved all the previous sections. But because I also want someone tougher, someone I know would give me an honest opinion, I also decide to send it to my mother. She will not hesitate in her feedback.
I know if I think about it too much I’ll chicken out. I attach the file, explain that I want her honest opinion, and hit send. I set the laptop on the small coffee table in front of the fireplace and stand up to stretch. I can feel the smile on my face. The sense of accomplishment outweighs the fear of what my mother will think, though the ultimate acknowledgment of my talent will be her approval.
“What are you so happy about,” Holden asks, walking over to refill my glass of water.
Words seem too small to explain a moment so grand, so I decide to show him. Leaning down, I pick up the device and flip it around, revealing to him the two words on the screen.
“No,” he gasps in disbelief, and now he’s smiling just like me. He opens his arms, inviting me into a hug, and it feels natural. I need his arms around me. After all, it seems only right that the man who helped me get to this point should get to celebrate with me.
With the laptop in my hand, the hug is awkward. He pulls away, and I’m looking in his eyes. It would be a perfect moment for a kiss, but he doesn’t take the opportunity. This
surprises me. Instead, he takes the laptop out of my hand and begins scrolling through the document.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I can’t wait to read it,” he replies, not looking away from the screen.
I lunge forward, well, as much as a thirty-eight week pregnant woman can lunge, and push the lid shut. He looks up at me, seemingly shocked. Then he lets out a laugh and slides the laptop behind his back.
“Give it,” I demand.
“Not until you agree to let me read it.”
“It’s not ready.”
“Are you letting anyone else read it?”
I hesitate. “Just Kenzie … and my mom.”
“Oh, that’s it. I’m absolutely reading it now.”
“Come on, please. I promise I’ll let you read it when it’s ready.”
“Holden, he’s here,” Abner announces from the door, a cold blast of air following him in.
Holden swiftly returns my laptop, but before he releases his grip, he looks me in the eye and asks, “You promise you’ll let me read it?”
I grin and answer, “I promise, when it’s ready.” I’m secretly thrilled he wants to read it so badly.
“Fine, now get your coat,” he commands.
I shake my head, confusion painted on my face. “What are you talking about? Why?”
“I have a little surprise for you.”
“Wha—”
He places a finger against my lips to silence me. “Let’s not go around in circles. Just let me surprise you, for once.”
“But—” I try again.
“Belle,” he tries again to shut me up. I giggle and decide to go along with his game. Making my way around the bar, I slip the laptop onto a shelf underneath and grab my coat off the hook inside the supply closet.
“Do I need my gloves?” I ask, pausing and looking at him for an answer.
“Oh yeah, bundle up good and tight,” he instructs, and I fight the urge to ask more questions. I pull the gloves on, wrap a red scarf around my neck, and wait for him to lead the way.
