He was ordering flowers for her! For Mother’s Day! She hadn’t thought about it, but it made sense. Emma called her mommy. The flowers couldn’t be for his mother because she was still in Japan. And he must be having them delivered to the shop. There was nothing better than getting flowers in front of other people. She should step away but she couldn’t. She’d act surprised when they came, shocked even.
“No carnations,” he went on. “Yellow roses, orchids, and tulips. Yes, I know. I don’t care how much they cost. Yes. That sounds fine.”
She wasn’t that particular about flowers but she wasn’t surprised that he was. And it was so like Marcia at the Blossom Shop to point out that someone might be spending more than they intended.
“On the card,” Luke continued, “‘We love you so much. Luke and Emma.’”
Lanie’s stomach tumbled out of her body, onto the floor, and flew out the window. We love you so much. There was something in his tone when he said it. Tenderness. Longing. It wasn’t quiet and settled — that was for sure.
“Yes. L-u-k-e and E-m-m-a,” he was saying. “Spelled just like you’d expect.”
What? Marcia Tate knew how to spell their names. She knew everything about everyone in town. Well, no matter. Marcia liked to keep people talking in hopes of gathering information.
We love you so much. He could have said Love, Luke and Emma but he hadn’t.
Luke spoke again. “The address? Hmm. I don’t know the street number right off but I don’t think you’ll need it.”
Well, no! Considering that the Blossom Shop was two blocks from Heavenly Confections. Why was Marcia asking for an address anyway? She took a drink of Luke’s beer to keep from gleefully laughing out loud, thus getting caught and ruining his surprise.
“Yes. Deliver them to Magnolia Cemetery, there in town. Plot 1784. Yes. Luke Avery. I have an account there but I have a new mailing address. It’s — ”
Her heart stopped cold. Her gut turned inside out. She ran down the hall, past Emma, into the kitchen where she poured the beer out and hid the bottle in the trash under a cereal box.
She had dinner to get on the table. And a quiet, settled evening to get on with — just like she’d signed up for.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
It’s easy to reason yourself out of disappointment if you don’t want to be disappointed. And truly, Lanie reminded herself as she walked toward the diner where she was meeting her friends for lunch, she had no reason to be disappointed. None. Nothing had changed. Luke was doing everything he’d promised, probably more. She was lucky, so lucky. It was to his credit that he had remembered Emma’s mother for Mother’s Day. It wasn’t as if he had ignored her. There hadn’t been any flowers but in addition to the handprint in plaster of Paris that Emma had made at school, Luke had given her a sapphire pendant the size of a dime. And there had been a card. It wasn’t signed, “We love you so much.” In fact, it wasn’t a Mother’s Day card. Luke had taken Emma to the Hallmark store and she had insisted on a graduation card with a big silver glittery star on the front. He’d seemed a little chagrined, but such a memory couldn’t be bought or sold. She’d shown Emma how to run her hands over the star and then on her cheeks, so her face would sparkle. All three of them had gone to the Mother’s Day lunch buffet at the country club with glitter on their faces — though Luke didn’t know about his until later. He’d gotten his sparkles from pressing his cheeks against theirs.
Lucky, so lucky.
Yet there was a tiny spot in her heart that remembered how she’d felt in those moments before she realized the flowers were not for her. We love you so much. That tiny spot might rip up her soul, if she let it. Fortunately, she was a rational person — and a lucky one. She touched the platinum chain around her neck and let her fingers drift down to the sapphire that was in no way as blue as Luke’s eyes.
“Hey, baby,” Lou Anne said from where she stood behind the pie stands lined up on the diner counter. “Your girls are already in the back.” She reached for her pad. “Chicken salad plate?”
Lanie opened her mouth to say yes, but changed her mind. She was ravenous. “Meatloaf, stewed tomatoes, and lima beans.” Her eyes drifted to the pie stands. “And a piece of that peach pie.”
“Really?” Lou Anne looked up, surprised.
“I know I never get dessert, but it looks so good.”
Lou Anne paused for a second then nodded. “I’ll bring you a glass of milk to go with it.”
Lanie almost told her no, that she wanted water, but the milk would be good with the pie. She hurried to the round table in the back corner, nodding and speaking to people as she went.
“You look fantastic,” Lucy said.
“She looks like sex on a stick,” Missy added.
Lanie had just changed from her work clothes into one of her new outfits — a short blue linen skirt, white cotton sweater, and sandals.
“Thank you. I think.” She sat down in the only vacant chair. The table was big enough for five but Missy always moved the extra chair because she feared someone else would want to sit with them.
“Sex on a stick? What does that even mean?” Lucy asked.
“Everything’s better on a stick,” Tolly said. “Ice cream, corn dogs, candied apples, fried Snickers … ”
“Fried Snickers?” Missy made a face. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Oh, they’re good,” Tolly said. “I’ve had them. There’s somebody coming to the Bobcat Booster Fair this weekend who makes them. Plus Twinkies, Milky Ways, Three Musketeers, and cheese cake — all fried and on a stick.”
“Dear God.” Lanie shuddered. Memorial Day weekend was big in Merritt. First, the Booster Fair, held every spring to raise money for the Merritt High School football team, would take over downtown this coming Saturday with craft booths, entertainment, games, food vendors, and a silent auction, run by the Junior League. Most merchants, including Lanie, would set up tables outside their stores and sell items with the proceeds going to the team.
That night was the Breast Ball, followed by a golf tournament on Sunday and a 5K run on Monday, which Luke was participating in.
Lou Anne set a chef’s salad in front of Missy. Now into her second trimester, Missy’s nausea had subsided.
“Everybody got everything?” Lou Anne asked.
“I’ll say,” Lanie said as she looked at the multitude of food in front of her. Lou Anne had brought everything she’d ordered plus a basket of yeast rolls and cornbread.
“Uh huh,” Lou Anne said as she prissed away. Lou Anne was known for her prissing.
“Is everybody going to the fair?” Missy asked in that tone that meant: I’ve got a plan and you’re about to be part of it.
“We’re going to take Emma, though I don’t know how long we’ll last. That child hates being hot.”
“Lucy and I are working the silent auction tent. I thought about donating a free divorce but Harris wouldn’t let me, so I’m giving a will. I don’t see how that’s better than a divorce. What about y’all?” As League members, they were all required to donate an item worth at least a hundred dollars.
“Two hours of design time,” Lucy said.
“Two pounds of candy every month for a year,” Lanie said.
“I don’t have any talent so I wrote a check,” Missy said.
“That’s not true,” Lucy said. “Your caramel cake is worth at least a hundred dollars.”
“Then people would know I can make cake — which brings me to my next point. I want everyone to come over before the Breast Ball Saturday night for drinks so we can take pictures.”
“Sounds good,” Lanie said. And convenient since Harris had arranged for Kirby Lawson, who was a certified lifeguard, to babysit for Beau and Emma so they could play in the pool. “But what’s that got to do with cake?”
�
��Nothing,” Missy said. “I was just ready to change the subject.”
Everyone laughed.
The next morning, six weeks after their trip to the coast, Lanie’s stomach went into a tailspin the moment she stepped out of bed. As she ran toward the bathroom, she counted backwards in her head. It couldn’t be.
• • •
But it was.
Dr. Joel McGowan’s receptionist Gina and Lanie served on the church finance committee together, so Lanie was able to get an appointment forty-five minutes after she called, which was two minutes after she’d taken a home pregnancy test. Lanie suspected that Gina had told a big cancellation lie to some other woman but she didn’t care.
She’d poured out the story of her miscarriage to Dr. McGowan and he’d prodded, pricked, and scoped for well over an hour, all without saying much of anything. Then she’d been moved from the examining room to his office where she’d sat another hour.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Lanie.” Dr. McGowan buzzed into the room in a quick, sure way that she found oddly comforting. He tossed a chart on desk and sat down.
“So?” She was afraid to ask more, afraid to hope.
“You are pregnant.”
A nervous laugh escaped. “All due respect, we knew that.”
“We highly suspected. We know now for certain. I put your due date at January 7.”
“So I’m going to have a due date? I’m going to carry this baby to term?”
He nodded. “I have no reason to think otherwise. That is, of course, barring complications — but you have no more chance of complications that any other woman. You’re healthy. You just happened to have had a miscarriage a long time ago.”
It was almost too much to take in. “But why? Why did that doctor tell me I wouldn’t have children?”
Dr. McGowan shrugged. “I’m sure that’s what he thought at the time but he was wrong. Lanie, do you know any sloppy, irresponsible candy makers?”
She thought of a few idiots who passed themselves off as gourmets but used substandard ingredients and sold stale candy. “Of course.”
“Well, I wish it wasn’t so, but I know some sloppy, irresponsible doctors. I suspect this was one. Besides, didn’t he tell you that you’d never conceive again? You didn’t say that he said anything about carrying a baby to term. So you see, even if he did have a valid reason for making such a snap judgment with no follow up, it’s over.”
The sun came out. That was right. She buried her face in her hands. A baby. Luke’s baby. A brother or sister for Emma. She began to cry.
“I, however,” Dr. McGowan continued, “am not a sloppy, irresponsible doctor. At least, I try not to be. And I take care of more than my patients’ bodies. So I have to ask, Lanie. Is this good news?”
She looked up, startled. Wasn’t it evident to the world? “Yes,” she whispered. “It’s a miracle. I can’t even begin — ” Wanting a private moment with her elation, she covered her face again.
But it was not to be. Dr. McGowan pressed on. “I know you recently became engaged to Luke Avery. Is this going to be good news to him?”
Lanie composed herself and laughed a little. “Yes. Judge and senator’s son that he is, I’m sure he would have preferred a different order of events, but we have talked about more children, have talked about adopting.”
Dr. McGowan smiled. “Good.” He picked up a prescription pad, scrawled on it, and handed it across the desk to her. “This is for vitamins. Do you have any questions?”
“I’m sure I should, but I can’t even think.”
“Then make an appointment for six weeks from now and call me if you think of anything or if Luke has questions. Even if you think it’s silly. There is no silly. We’re going to take good care of you.”
“I think I’d better set a wedding date.” She rose.
“Might be a good idea.” Dr. McGowan winked at her. She loved a winking doctor. She hadn’t known it, but she did.
She loved everything and everybody.
• • •
Emma sat at the kitchen table eating cottage cheese while Lanie fried bacon and mixed pancake batter. She’d been sick this morning, but it had subsided after she ate a few crackers. Still, the smell of the bacon wasn’t welcome. Even so, joy erupted through her and she felt like she could run ten miles.
She bent and gave Emma a kiss.
Emma said, “Time to go to Beau’s!”
“No.” Lanie turned to pour batter on the griddle. “That’s later. First, you, Daddy, and I are going to do some special fun things downtown.”
“Special?” Emma’s head whipped around. “I’ll be honeybee!”
Oh, damn. She was off her game. Never use the word special!
“I don’t know, Emma. Honeybee is made of fur and it’s hot outside. How about your new red polka dotted shorts with the matching hair bow?”
“I’m ’posed to be honeybee!” She put another spoonful of cottage cheese in her mouth.
“How about this? Shorts today and honeybee at Beau’s house tonight after you finish swimming? You don’t want to get honeybee wet do, you?”
“No,” she said softly like she was considering it. Then she nodded. “Okay!”
Luke ambled into the kitchen pink-cheeked from his run, unwrapping the newspaper as he went. She hadn’t told him about the baby yet. Lanie caught his clean athletic smell as he bent to kiss Emma. She wanted to grab him in her arms, haul him back to the bedroom, and tell him the news. And then she wanted to devour his body. Must be the hormones. But she would tell him tonight. When she was a teenager, she’d read a book where a woman had told her husband she was pregnant by leaving a baby rattle on his pillow. At the time, she’d thought she’d do that someday — and someday was tonight! The blue rattle, tied with pink ribbons was tucked into her underwear drawer across the hall. After delivering the news, she would devour his body. Since Emma and Beau were sharing a sitter tonight during the Breast Ball, Emma was going to spend the night there. She and Luke could run though the house naked, if they wanted.
She jumped when she felt a hand land on her rear.
“Sorry.” He laughed. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you knew I was behind you.”
“I guess I was somewhere else. Woolgathering.” Yes! Pink wool — or maybe blue — for little hats and blankets. She’d learned enough in her knitting class to do that. Or maybe yellow, since she didn’t know the gender. First thing Monday, she’d go to the yarn shop so she could do something right now to get ready for her baby — her other baby. She set the pancake she’d cut into bite sized pieces in front of Emma and kissed her curls.
“You haven’t had enough caffeine.” Luke took two mugs from the cabinet and picked up the coffee pot. “You’re never distracted.”
“None for me,” Lanie said hastily. No caffeine. That was one of the rules. No caffeine, no wine, no sushi, no blue cheese, no rare streak — none of life’s pleasures. Well, that wasn’t true. There was always sex!
“You don’t want any coffee?” Luke looked surprised.
“I’m hot.” She added bacon to his plate and dropped more batter onto the griddle.
“Want me to turn down the thermostat?”
“No. I’m not that hot. Here’s your breakfast.” She set the plate at his place at the table.
He sat down and reached for the pitcher of warm syrup. “What did I do to deserve pancakes?”
Oh, if only you knew!
• • •
“Daddy, come on!” Emma squealed and tried to break free from his hand — again. She towed him to a booth that was selling silk-screened car tags and NASCAR collectibles.
Lanie had been right. When they’d been getting ready to leave for the Bobcat Booster Fair, she’d wanted to put Emma in the stroller. He’d argued that it would
be easier to carry her than maneuver the stroller through the crowded streets. Lanie had looked doubtful and said that since it had gotten warmer out, Emma had been resistant to being carried. He hadn’t believed it, but they hadn’t been out five minutes before she’d started whimpering to be let down.
Now she was wild as a buck and Lanie wasn’t doing anything to help contain her. In fact, where was she? Was she lagging behind on purpose because he hadn’t followed her suggestion, thinking she’d show him? He looked around and spotted her looking at a quilt display. She looked up, met his eyes, and smiled — and not a mad you-should-have-listened-to-me smile. It was more ethereal, dreamy. She’d been like that all morning, like she was in some kind of a happy little fog that didn’t include him.
He didn’t like it. He was used to her being focused, tapped into Emma — tapped into him, damn it! He was about to motion for her to come help him when she wiggled her fingers in a little wave and went back to studying the quilts.
“Daddy! I want the same as this!” Emma yelled. She was reaching for a clock with a picture of Dale Earnhardt, Jr. on the face. He had already bought a bamboo flute, a pig made out of pinecones, and a Santa Claus dressed in cammo. He was drawing the line at this.
“No, Emma.” He pulled her hand away and looked over his shoulder toward Lanie. Still looking at quilts.
“Ohhhhhhhh. Pretty!” Good God. Now she had her hands on a car tag with a bald eagle and Tiffany spelled out in metallic turquoise letters.
“Sorry,” Luke said to the laughing vendor as he bodily removed Emma from the vicinity. He set her on her feet on the sidewalk in front of Reed’s Jewelry, behind a pottery display. “Emma.” For all the good it would do, he took out the Daddy voice. Where the hell was Lanie? “Do you want me to carry you? Do you want to go home? Do you want me to take these things back and get my money back?” He held up the bag that contained her treasures. Each question produced a vigorous head shake. “You don’t? Well, then. You’re going to have to hold Daddy’s hand and not pull away. You cannot grab things.”
Sweet Gone South Page 22
