Bringing Up Baxter (Forever Friends, Book 3 of 4)

by Webb, Peggy

  “One or both?”

  “Both.”

  “I think I can arrange that.”

  Inside he stripped aside his clothes, then undressed her slowly.

  “Stand right there, Philadelphia. Don’t move.”

  “How can I move? I can hardly breathe.”

  He dropped to his knees and buried his face against her skin. Sensations of purest love shot upward, and she knew their baby would have the greatest gift of all: being conceived in love. She wove her fingers in his hair and pulled him close. He had magic lips and a tongue of flame, and she spun into a wonderland.

  Crash looked up at her, smiling. “You like that, don’t you?”

  “I love it.... I love you.”

  “And I love you. Did I fail to mention that?”

  “Yes, but I’ll see that it doesn’t happen again.”

  Still on his knees, he drew her down, then cupped her face.

  “I never knew being in love would be so wonderful,” he said, and the wonder he felt was in his kiss, in the way he bent over her, in the way he held her.

  The flames he’d kindled leaped to life once more. He pressed against her, strong and powerful and urgent.

  “I want you,” she whispered. “All of you.”

  “You have me, Philadelphia... now and forever.”

  He was the sun, the moon, the stars, and she spiraled upward, spinning, spinning in his orbit.

  Much, much later her said, “Will you marry me, Philadelphia?”

  Sometimes, suddenly, you see your future, and it’s so remarkable a mere glimpse makes your heart hurt. Momentarily struck by her vision, Philadelphia pressed her hand over her heart.

  “Will you?” he whispered, bending over her.

  Overflowing with love, she cupped his face.

  “Does this mean I get to ride into the sunset on the back of a Harley?”

  “Yes. I think it’s the best way to go.”

  “So do I, Crash... so do I.”

  Epilogue

  Two months later

  The sun dropped behind the stand of oak and pine trees, and from deep inside the woods a whippoorwill called. A breeze set the wind chimes on the front porch tinkling. Sitting side by side on the wicker swing, B. J. and Nat looked at each other and burst out laughing.

  There was an answering sound from beside the front porch, a plaintive “maaa.” Beneath the sign that proclaimed Beauregard and Beauregard, Attorneys at Law, was a small billy goat.

  “Well, Philadelphia, what do you think of our latest paycheck?”

  B. J. pretended to assess the goat with an expert eye.

  “He looks a little skinny, Crash. Are you sure we should accept a skinny goat for saving Mr. Sims’s pet rabbit from the stew pot?”

  “Do you think we should have held out for a fat one?”

  “Hmmm.” B. J. left the swing and went down the steps to inspect the goat. “I think this calls for a consultation, Counselor.”

  “By all means, Counselor.” Crash unfolded his long legs, stretched lazily, then joined her beside the goat. “Which boardroom do you suggest we use?”

  “I’m rather partial to the one upstairs. The one with the brass bed and the patchwork quilt.”

  He nuzzled her neck. “You know how to take a man’s mind off his business, don’t you?”

  “I try.”

  “I was thinking of our other boardroom.” Crash untied the billy goat. “The one with the hay.”

  “You have the best ideas.”

  They led the little billy to the barn and put him in his very own stable with plenty of hay and a donkey in the stall beside him for company. After they’d patted him and assured him there was a big, wide pasture outside for his comfort and pleasure, they adjourned up the ladder to the hayloft.

  “Philadelphia, do you want to call this meeting to order, or shall I?”

  “Let me.” She gave him an arch smile. “Besides, I have an agenda.”

  “An agenda? If you’re going to get all that fancy we’ll have to start billing our clients for two goats instead of one.”

  “Or maybe even a whole cow.”

  “You’re darned right.”

  “Sit still now. This meeting is about to come to order.” B. J. unbuttoned his shirt and ran her hands over his chest.

  “Hmmm, I like the way you handle things, Mrs. Beauregard.”

  “Lately I’ve had lots of practice.”

  “I hope this is going to be a very long meeting.”

  “Oh, it will be, Counselor. Rest assured. It will be a very long meeting.”

  She pushed him down into the hay, then sprawled on top of him. Crash reached under her full denim skirt and found what he wanted.

  “The first item on my agenda is a goat cart,” she said, breathless and flushed.

  Crash caught her hips and held her fast.

  “Good idea, Philadelphia. But then, you’re full of good ideas.”

  “I’m certainly full of one now. The best of all.”

  “You wicked, wanton wench. Have I told you lately that I love you?”

  “Is that a song?”

  “Yes, it’s music... and so is this.”

  He flipped her over, caught her hands above her head, then took them on a journey that made conversation impossible. B. J. wondered how it was possible to be so richly blessed. Every day with Crash was better than the one before.

  From the moment she’d committed herself to him in the mountains, then ridden off on the back of his Harley to find a justice of the peace to make it legal, she’d felt as if she’d sprouted wings.

  They’d had another ceremony, of course, complete with family and the Forever Friends, who arrived in Tupelo all smiles with their husbands and Helen’s four children in tow and the very happy news that Kathleen and Hunter were expecting their first child.

  B. J. smiled as she remembered. Each day she was thankful for the familiar as well as the new, longtime friends who were the wind beneath her wings and a husband who made life a grand adventure. Each day brought a new discovery, a new sense of freedom, a new wonder.

  The scent of sweet hay filled her nostrils, the sound of her husband’s ragged breathing filled her ears, and love filled her heart. Crash cried out her name, and they exploded together. A million tiny stars fell from the sky and scattered through her body, and she knew that she would feel their glow for a lifetime... and beyond.

  He stretched on top of her, languorous and smiling, taking the bulk of his weight on his elbows.

  “What’s next on the agenda, Counselor?”

  She gave him a wicked grin. “More of the same.”

  “That’s what I was hoping.”

  “But first, there is one important item we need to discuss.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “No, you’re not.” She touched him, grinning.

  “Like I said, you sure know how to handle a meeting. So, tell me this important item, but make it fast because I’m raring to get back to the major agenda.”

  “A goat cart,” she said.

  “For Baxter?” he asked.

  Baxter loved riding in the sidecar on the Harley. Crash figured he’d be equally pleased with his very own goat cart.

  “He can ride too.”

  “Too? Did you say too?”

  “I did.”

  Her smile was so big, she thought her face would break. When the truth dawned, Crash was awestruck. Tenderly, he placed a hand over her abdomen.

  “Does this mean what I think it means?” he whispered.

  “Yes. You remember that little project we started in the mountains?”

  “How could I forget?”

  “We were successful,” she whispered. He sat up and treated her midsection to a tender and thorough exploration with hands and mouth. And after he’d finished, he spread her on the hay and made love to her in the way of a husband who adores his wife.

  “We’d better make sure,” he said.

  o0o

  Eight mon
ths later

  The hospital corridor was all white and a mile long. Or so it seemed to Maxie. She was a nervous wreck.

  The call she’d been waiting for had finally come.

  “It’s a boy,” Crash had said. “A seven-pound baby boy.”

  Maxie was so excited, she put her skirt on backward. When she finally got her skirt right, she discovered that she buttoned her blouse up wrong. Now, rushing down the long corridor to see her nephew, she realized she was wearing one pink shoe and one red. Furthermore, she’d grabbed her turquoise linen jacket instead of the green. With her red hair caught up in an orange ribbon, she looked like a walking neon sign.

  She shifted the giant panda bear she was holding and raced full tilt down the hall.

  “Might as well get used to it, squirt,” she said, already talking to the nephew she was rushing to meet. “That’s the way Aunt Maxie is, topsy-turvy clothes and a brain to match.... Whoops!”

  She smacked into a solid, immovable object. Her panda bear flew upward, and Maxie flew backward, arms and legs flailing. She would have fallen if a large pair of arms hadn’t caught her.

  “Gotcha.”

  Dazed, she looked up into the face of Mr. Perfect. She’d have swooned if she hadn’t already been in a virtual faint.

  The man holding her changed his expression from concern to faint recognition.

  “Maxie?”

  “That’s right. Magic Maxie.”

  “Joseph Beauregard,” he said needlessly, which just went to prove that he was as flustered as she.

  Bent over backward on the arms of a dark and handsome hero, she felt like a heroine in a silent movie. Suddenly she started to giggle.

  “I forgot to shave,” he said.

  She laughed harder.

  “I don’t see that it’s all that funny. I’m planning to stop at the barber’s on my way to the office.”

  “Good grief, Joseph. I’m not laughing at your beard shadow, I’m laughing at us. We must look like a pair of silver-screen lovers.”

  You’d think she had shot him from a cannon. That’s how fast he straightened up. She reached down to retrieve her fallen panda, and collided with him again.

  “Oops, sorry,” she said. “I was just getting my bear.”

  “I thought that was my bear.”

  They both turned around, and on the floor behind them was another giant panda, a twin to the one Maxie had bought for her nephew.

  “It seems we think alike,” he said.

  “Good heavens, I hope not.”

  He arched an eyebrow at her, then they jerked up their separate pandas and hurried toward room 314, not speaking. At the door they both paused, brought to a dead halt by the sight of Nat bending over the bed where B. J. lay holding a tiny bundle of blue.

  “Maxie... Joe.” He beamed at them. “Come in here and meet our son.” He gently lifted the baby and folded back the blanket so they could see his tiny face, as red and wrinkled as a peach pit. “Joe, meet your uncle Joe and your aunt Maxie.”

  “Joe?” His brother beamed. “You named him for me?”

  “Great Caesar in a goat cart. What did you expect? You’re my hero.”

  “Don’t let him sweet talk you, Joe,” B.J. said, holding out her hands and offering her cheek for her brother-in-law’s kiss. “Before you know it you’ll be agreeing to everything he asks of you.”

  “I’m used to pulling Nat’s irons out of the fire. What is it this time?”

  Crash came around the side of the bed and placed the baby in Aunt Maxie’s waiting arms. Then he looped an arm around her and the other around his brother.

  “Get ready,” B. J. said, smiling. “Here it comes.”

  “I want the two of you to be the godparents.”

  “I can’t believe it,” Maxie said. “Good grief. I think I’m going to cry.” B. J. pulled a tissue from the box beside her bed and handed it to her sister. “I never cry. B. J.’s always the one.”

  “I’m honored,” Joe said, his face as solemn as a judge. “Absolutely honored.”

  In one of her typical Maxie flashes, she changed from tears to laughter.

  “Do you know what this means?” Leaning around her brother-in-law, she addressed Joe.

  “We stand up at the christening,” he said.

  “Yes, but even better, we get to plan the party.” Maxie offered her finger, and the baby latched on with a grip that meant business. She cooed at him. “We’re going to plan you the best party in the whole world. Yes, we are.”

  Joe cleared his throat. “Something quiet and sedate at the country club might be appropriate,” he said hopefully.

  “Quiet and sedate!” Maxie leaned close to the baby and crooned. “You’re not going to be that kind of boy, are you? No, you’re not.”

  She turned back to Joe. “I know a man who has real zebras.”

  “Real zebras?” Joe began to look alarmed.

  “Yes.” Maxie’s red ponytail bounced in her excitement. “He might even be able to get us a real tiger.”

  Joe ran a hand under his collar. “Perhaps a stuffed tiger or two would be appropriate for the decorations.”

  “Stuffed? Good grief.”

  Maxie handed the baby back to his daddy, then linked her arm through Joe’s and propelled him from the room.

  “We need to talk.”

  “I have an appointment.”

  “What could you possibly have that’s more important than your nephew’s christening party?”

  As the godmother led the godfather through the door, they heard her say, “If we don’t launch this kid right, he’s liable to grow up to be a stuffed shirt.”

  Crash grinned at his wife.

  “What do you think, Philadelphia? Will Joey get real tigers or stuffed ones?”

  “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

  She held out her hand, and Crash leaned over to kiss her.

  “I can think of a few things to do while we’re waiting,” he whispered.

  “Will I like them?”

  “Every one. And that’s a promise.”

  -o0o-

  Coming July 30, 2013, The Sweetest Hallelujah, a literary fiction novel written as Elaine Hussey. Set in 1955, it’s the story of two courageous women who cross racial boundaries to save a child. Excerpt, details and preorder link on www.elainehussey.com. Review: “Brilliant…If you can buy only one book this year, make it The Sweetest Hallelujah.”

  o0o

  Excerpt, Angels on Zebras

  (Forever Friends, Book 4 of 4)

  Peggy Webb

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Why can’t we have real zebras?”

  Joseph cringed at the question, but everybody else in the barbershop seemed to think it was the most amusing thing since Randall, the owner, had announced to his regular customers that he’d had nothing for breakfast except fruit of the looms.

  “Why can’t she have zebras?” Randall asked, nudging the Wednesday regular in the chair next to Joseph’s.

  The Wednesday regular lifted the hot towel off his face and grinned like the Cheshire cat. “Yeah, Joseph. Why can’t she? It seems a pretty little thing like her ought to be able to have anything she wants.”

  “Thanks, fellas,” Maxie said, grinning at her supporters. Every man in the shop swooned.

  Every man except Joseph. Her charm was fatal. He supposed that’s why she was called Magic Maxie. But he had no intention of falling victim... again.

  Godchild or no godchild.

  The next time he saw his brother he was going to kill him. If Crash hadn’t come up with the harebrained scheme of naming his wife’s sister as godmother, Joseph would be sitting in the barber’s chair getting a nice shave and haircut and talking politics instead of being bombarded with crazy ideas by Maxie Corban. He would be planning to get in his Lincoln and take a sedate drive to his law office instead of fielding ridiculous ideas for the christening party with Crash’s scatterbrained sister-in-law.

  “We can’t have real zebra
s because the whole idea is absurd,” he said.

  “Why?” Maxie asked.

  “Yeah,” Randall chimed in, snipping in earnest around Joseph’s ear. “That’s what I’d like to know.”

  “You stay out of this, Randall.”

  “You know the rules, Joe. Everything said in this barbershop is my business.” Randall winked at Maxie. “The lady’s waiting for an answer.”

  If he’d been in a courtroom, Joseph could have snapped out a brilliant reply in two seconds flat. But darned if he didn’t have to ponder before he could come up with a response to Maxie.

  Of course, it wasn’t every day he carried on a conversation with a woman who looked like a cross between a sugarplum fairy and a naughty child. Her hands moved when she talked, and so did her hair, a mop of red curls caught high on her head by a bright orange ribbon. As if that color combination weren’t enough to shock, she was wearing mismatched shoes, one pink and one red. Her miniskirt was some fantastic shade of pink that he was certain glowed in the dark, and her raw silk jacket was neon blue.

  He wondered if she dressed like that every day or only on special occasions. For a man who had spent the last nine months avoiding her company, it was a foolish thing to wonder.

  In fact, he hadn’t done much better himself. When Crash had called and yelled into the phone, “You’re an uncle,” Joseph had actually gone out of the house without shaving. That’s why he was at the barbershop now. He’d never gone to work looking scruffy, and he didn’t intend to start.

  The heat rose in his face when Maxie tipped her head to one side and widened her eyes at him. His resolve weakened.

  “The zebras,” she prompted.

  “Why zebras?” It was a good stalling tactic, using a question to field a question.

  “Because they’re lively and fun, and sometimes angels ride them.”

  Was he hearing things? Joseph had the kind of steel-trap mind that never missed a word, not even a single nuance. Maybe it was the snipping of the scissors that distracted him. It surely couldn’t be the enticing curve of Maxie’s legs, though she made crossing them an art.

  “I beg your pardon?” Studiously avoiding looking at her legs, he cleared his throat and resisted the impulse to run his finger around his collar to release the heat. “Did you say angels on zebras?”