Right All Along

by Heather Heyford

  “Just when I thought I didn’t know anybody here,” said Sylvie. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Ten years.” By the looks of Sylvie, the wreck had left no lasting scars.

  “Nice catch with the lube.”

  Harley shrugged. “Pru’s got one hell of an arm.”

  “I hear you bought the old Grimsky place.”

  “That’s right.”

  “What a coincidence. You coming back to Newberry at the same time as Jack.”

  So, Newberry still hadn’t tired of talking about them. “Coincidence, that’s all.”

  Sylvie arched a brow. “If I remember right, you two were always hanging around together after school.”

  “It was nice seeing you. I have to get—”

  “Has Jack interviewed you yet?”

  Harley halted in her tracks and turned back around. “Excuse me?”

  “He interviewed me.”

  “What do you mean—interviewed?”

  “Word at the club is, he’s on the prowl for a new partner.” She rolled her eyes. “Let’s face it. He needs a stepmother for his daughters, to share the load. Think of the timing. He comes back to town just as they’re about to become teenagers.”

  Was that why Jack had set her up with his girls at the art gallery—to see how they’d get along? If Harley might be the missing puzzle piece?

  Her blood rushed in her ears. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, I have to get going.”

  She squeezed the polished brass door handle.

  Behind her came Sylvie’s voice. “He interviewed Pru, too. She didn’t tell you?”

  Adrenaline coursed through Harley, making her pulse race. Rather than fight, she flew to the refuge of her car. Jack didn’t want her for her. Now that he had kids and no mother, he needed a helpmeet. A nanny. And it just so happened that she and the girls had clicked.

  * * *

  That evening, when Jack came over to Harley’s, before he even took off his coat he said, “I was thinking. When the call comes about the baby, I don’t think you should drive up to Seattle and back by yourself. I remember driving the twins home from the hospital. I was so nervous, I only drove like five miles an hour. And that was just from downtown. You’re going to have a good two-and-a-half-hour drive, and that’s doing the speed limit. I want to drive up with you.”

  “I appreciate you thinking of me. But it’s all worked out. My dad offered to drive my mom and me up. Besides, it’ll be Christmastime. You should be with your girls.”

  “Hey.” Jack took her in his arms and, with a fingertip, turned her chin. “Look at me. I can’t wait until we’re all together.”

  Harley broke free of him and stepped out of his reach.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “We need to talk.”

  He frowned. “Okay.” In the corner of his eye, he spotted the decanter filled with wine he’d gifted her on the breakfront and headed toward it. “Can I pour you a glass?”

  “Yes. No. On second thought, I’m having vodka.”

  Jack’s hand paused in midpour. “When did you start drinking vodka?”

  “Today. After Pru’s get together.”

  She found a rocks glass left behind by the Grimskys and cracked open a bottle of Grey Goose she’d received as a housewarming gift.

  “Vodka neat,” he chuckled nervously. “This sounds serious.”

  They settled on the couch, facing each other.

  “I ran into Sylvie Collins today.”

  Jack averted his eyes and tipped his glass. “Yeah?”

  “She told me you ‘interviewed’ her,” she said, drawing air quotes. “And she wasn’t the only one. I heard it from Prudence Mitchell, too.”

  Jack snorted. “Is that what this is about? Here’s what it is. Since we got back from New Zealand, Mother’s been trying to fix me up.”

  “Let me guess. With a woman like Pru or Sylvie?”

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not the least bit interested in either of them.”

  Harley slammed the rest of her drink, went to the mantel, and refilled her glass with wine. “It’s obvious why your mother chose Pru and Sylvie. They come from established Newberry families. What about you? Didn’t you have any say in the matter?”

  “Well, I—”

  “It’s not like she put a gun to your head and made you go out with those women.”

  “No, but—” How could he explain? “It’s all about the twins. They’re entering a crucial stage in their development. I know, they’ve got me. But they need a mom, now more than ever. Someone who can talk to them about things they wouldn’t be comfortable talking to me about . . . who can advise them . . .”

  “Melinda always thought she knew better than you what was good for you. Now she’s projecting it onto her granddaughters.”

  “No. Yes. But—”

  Harley stopped him with her hand, ignoring the wine sloshing around in her glass, threatening to stain the new white rug. “Let me get this straight. All autumn, while we’ve been seeing each other, you’ve been going out with other women? Interviewing them for the position of your girls’ new mother, so to speak?”

  At a loss for what to say, he stood and started toward her, halting when she turned aside.

  “A couple of times I said we might be rushing things.”

  “That was before,” Jack pleaded, panic rising in him. “Before the girls got to know you and like you, and we started talking about moving in together.”

  Harley backed up until she hit the fireplace, protecting her space, eyeing him skeptically.

  It was all Jack could do not to go to her. This was the third time he’d hurt her. Wrecking the float, rendering her incapable of having babies, marrying Emily, and now, yet again.

  He swallowed, his throat dry as dust. “Come on, Harley. I’ll do anything, pay any price. Trust me—”

  “Trust you? Trust you?” She came toward him with fire in her eyes. “How could I ever trust you? You remember that condom you kept in your back pocket at all times? Typical Jack, like a Boy Scout, always prepared. You always reined yourself in short of needing to use it with me. But with Emily, you apparently got so carried away you couldn’t even stop and fumble with a square of foil.”

  “Harley—”

  “Let me ask you something . . . something I’ve been dying to ask you for ten years. How many times were you with Emily before she—before you—”

  Jack screwed up his brow. “What? You think—she and I—” He shook his head. How could he have been so blind? All these months, no wonder she’d been so reticent. “One time, on that trip to Mexico she and my mother cooked up. The real kicker is, I don’t even remember it.”

  He reached for her, but she flinched in disgust. “I swear to you, Harley. Somehow that night, Emily and I ended up the only ones left at the pool bar. The bartender never let our mai tais get empty. When I finally staggered back to my casita, my key was missing. Emily invited me to crash in her place, next door. The lobby seemed like it was a mile away. I was too drunk to make it all the way there, so I thought, what the hell. Next thing I know, I’m waking up with the mother of all hangovers, and worst of all, Emily’s lying next to me.”

  “You must have been pretty drunk not to remember having sex.”

  “Wine’s like food in my family. They teach you to drink for exactly that reason—so you won’t abuse it, starting with a spoonful in your water glass as soon as you can sit up at the dinner table. They add a spoonful a year until you’re a teenager and you finally get your own small glass. You know me, Har. That night was the first of only two nights in my entire life I’ve gone overboard. The second was the night of my bachelor party. That time, I wanted to get drunk. I knew in my gut that marrying Emily was wrong.”

  “Do you remember what you said to me that night?” she steamed.

  “I remember being surprised to see you, given that you weren’t on the guest list.”

  “Believe me, it
wasn’t my idea. I happened to be in the car with some kids who crashed it. You told me if Emily weren’t pregnant, you’d be with me. Well, you could have had me as soon as we got back home, but you still couldn’t leave any stone unturned, could you? You had to make sure you’d picked the best of what Newberry had to offer. What is wrong with you, Jack Friestatt? What’s wrong with me that you couldn’t commit to me without shopping around?”

  He ducked as her glass went flying past his head, shattering against Mrs. Grimsky’s classy black and white wallpaper.

  “And to top it all off,” she screamed, “I can’t even get pregnant, and you produce multiples without even trying!”

  * * *

  Jack drifted through his days, lost at sea. Surrounded by people, yet alone in his own home, his own town.

  Why had he kowtowed to Mother’s dating advice?

  Why? Because their lives were so interdependent he felt caught up like a fish in a net. They lived in the same house, ran the family business together, and she was the twins’ grandmother. He was stuck.

  At least he could draw the line when it came to Mother’s match making advice. He had no desire to be with Pru or Sylvie, or any other woman except Harley. But after what he’d done, could he blame Harley for doubting him?

  And if he was through dating the women Mother chose for him, and Harley no longer wanted him, then he might as well face it—he was bound to end up alone.

  * * *

  Mom plopped down next to Harley on the couch and gave her a side hug. “Aw, honey. I know you’re hurting.”

  Harley’s head fell sideways onto Mom’s shoulder. She pounded her thigh with her fist. “I just need to keep telling myself I didn’t come back to Ribbon Ridge to be with Jack. I don’t know why I’m so surprised. I need to carry on as if this never happened. Like everything that happened with us this fall was just a detour, a blip on the radar.” She squeezed her hands between her knees. “You still have so much going for you,” Mom said. “This beautiful house, your business . . . that little baby. Have you heard from your lawyer lately?”

  Harley sat up straight and wiped away a frustrated tear. “That’s the other thing. I haven’t. It makes me worry that the birth mother hasn’t been in touch with her.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. What with the holidays and all, it probably slipped Kelly’s mind. Why don’t you call her?”

  “I don’t want to seem overly anxious.” But eight months of waiting had stretched Harley’s nerves to the breaking point.

  “Anyone in your shoes would be anxious. You and Kelly are friends, right? Call her direct. That way you’ll get it straight from her, without it being filtered by your lawyer. Go ahead, while I’m here.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” She sighed. “Give me a minute to collect myself.”

  “That’s it. While you’re doing that, I’ll go make us a nice cup of tea.”

  Mom disappeared into the kitchen. Her herb tea might taste like compost, but Harley needed to talk in private. She blew her nose. Then she took a deep breath, punched in Kelly’s number, and pasted on a smile, hoping it would come across in her voice.

  “Kelly! How are you?”

  “Harley! I’m so sorry.”

  Harley’s heart leaped into her throat.

  “I was supposed to call your attorney back a week ago, and what with Mattie being sick and trying to find a sitter so I can finish my shopping and—Aiden! Get off the table!—Sorry. I’m a little overwhelmed at the moment.”

  Relief battled with empathy in Harley. “That’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I didn’t mean to bother you. I just—well, it’s just that naturally, I’ve been thinking of you and the baby and I wanted to make sure . . .”

  “Aiden! I said, get down. The elf is watching, and if you don’t listen, there’ll be no Star Wars Mega Playset for you. No, the pregnancy is fine. My heartburn is easing up. This kid is so jumpy, I feel like I’m carrying around a joey in my pouch.”

  A pang of jealousy swept over Harley. If only she were lucky enough to be so miserable. “Okay. Well, I know you’re busy. I don’t want to keep you.”

  “That’s all right . . .” There was an odd lack of finality in Kelly’s tone, as if she were considering adding something. But as hard as Harley pressed her phone against her ear, all she could hear was Kelly’s toddlers playing in the background.

  “. . . nothing. Never mind. If you talk to your lawyer, tell her we spoke, would you? Save me a call.”

  Harley’s body slumped as she let out her held breath. “Will do.”

  “All right. Talk soon. Aiden! For the love of God—Put. Down. Your. Sister!”

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Harley used to count the weeks, and then the days. Now, she counted the hours.

  The Victorian was baby ready. The downstairs cupboards had child locks installed on them. Upstairs, in the nursery, the changing table drawers were stocked with diapers and wipes and powder.

  After studying dozens of online reviews, she’d chosen a pediatrician; Dr. Brown, a grandfatherly man with twinkly eyes and years of experience under his monogrammed lab coat.

  Christmas Eve day, Harley checked her phone every thirty minutes to make sure she hadn’t missed Stacy’s call. Between checks, she roamed the cavernous Victorian like a caged animal, mentally checking off the items on her to-do list. Car seat installed, check. Bag packed with formula and diapers, check. Extra blankets, check.

  When the phone rang at around eleven in the morning, she jumped.

  “Dad! You almost gave me a heart attack.”

  “Mom and I were wondering if you’d heard anything yet.”

  “You know I’ll call you the second I do.”

  “All set?”

  “There’s never been a more prepared adoptive mother.”

  Her phone buzzed, jangling nerves that were already on the brink. “Dad! Hold on.”

  “Harley?” Stacy’s voice was brimming with positivity. “I bring you tidings of great joy. Yesterday afternoon Kelly gave birth to a baby girl.”

  “A girl?” Harley’s whole body tingled.

  “Those sonograms don’t claim to be a hundred percent accurate.”

  “But—”

  “I know, she said she’d call us when she went into labor, but it’s her third, and there was no advance warning. She barely made it to the hospital.”

  “A girl!” she exclaimed, still absorbing the news.

  “That’s right. A girl. Blond. Seven pounds, seven ounces, nineteen and a half inches long. Everyone’s doing fine. The hospital is releasing her later this afternoon. They’ll be waiting for you as soon as you can get there.”

  It was a wonder Harley didn’t drop her phone as she somehow reconnected with Dad. “It’s a girl!” she cried, hands shaking, tears running down her cheeks. “I have a baby girl!”

  “A girl? But you said—”

  “I know, I know,” she choked. “They said it looked like a boy. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I’m a mom! The waiting’s over. I’m a mother!”

  “Aw, Harley girl,” he said gruffly, his voice cracking. “You’re gonna be the best mama any little girl ever had.”

  “Never mind that!” She was jumping up and down in her excitement. “Just hurry! How soon can you get here?”

  * * *

  Bursting with gratitude and goodwill, Harley embraced a groggy Kelly in her hospital bed. “You’ve given me the best present anyone could ever give another person.”

  Kelly smiled weakly and patted her hand. “Take care of her for me, won’t you?”

  Thank goodness for Dad driving and Mom in the front seat, talking Harley down when she cringed at every bump in the road, afraid it would somehow jar the precious bundle next to her in the car seat.

  Halfway back to Ribbon Ridge, it began to snow.

  It was well after midnight by the time they got home. Harley carried the baby upstairs to the waiting nursery.

  “Careful,” said Mom, wat
ching as Harley nestled her in her all-blue crib when they finally got home. “Lay her on her back.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Harley. “I think I’ve read every book ever written about how to take care of a newborn.”

  “Do you want us to stay?” asked Dad, looking around bleary-eyed. “You got enough bedrooms around here, that’s for sure.”

  “No, you don’t have to. You’ve already done so much. We’re snuggled in safe now. You go home to your own bed and get some rest.”

  They kissed her good night. “Merry Christmas, Harley.”

  “Merry Christmas, Mom. Dad.”

  Harley listened to their feet on the stairs, cross the foyer and out the door, and then it was just she and her daughter. She gazed down at her baby in her crib in the soft light as the snow fell gently outside her window. Her cheeks were downy soft, like peaches, each tiny finger a miracle.

  The only way the moment could possibly be better was if Jack were there to share it with her.

  * * *

  Jack sat on the couch savoring his coffee, watching his girls rip open their gifts and exclaim at the trinkets that tumbled from the stockings they’d dumped onto the Oriental rug whose pattern was quickly being obscured by wrapping paper. In spite of the twelve-foot Douglas fir glittering with ornaments and the blazing fire in the fireplace, inside he felt cold and empty.

  Luckily, what with the excitement of the holiday and shopping and practicing for their school pageant, the twins didn’t seem to notice they hadn’t seen Harley lately. As long as there was a chance they might get back together, he didn’t want to say anything that might ruin the bond they had formed.

  As for Mother, they weren’t on the best of speaking terms these days.

  So, he had ended up not saying anything.

  Yet he shouldn’t have been surprised when Freddie turned to him from where she sat cross-legged on the living room floor, immersed in a new electronic device, and said, “Oh my gosh. I just remembered. Did Harley get her baby? He was supposed to be here on Christmas.”

  “That’s right!” shouted Frankie. “Can we go see Harley and him?”