Saving Abby

by Steena Holmes

  “Aww, come on, Fran. You’ve got to stop bringing that up. I’m a grown man now. I don’t cry over skinned knees anymore.” Josh blushed. He secretly loved the teasing. He’d lost his mother years ago, and Fran had taken him in and treated him like her own son.

  “Then are you going to tell me, or do I need to drag it out of you?” She folded her arms across her chest and stared at him.

  Josh rubbed the back of his neck. “Claire’s gonna skin me alive. You know that, right?”

  “Because you told me your little secret? Nah. She’s gonna wonder what took you so long, and you know it.” She pressed her hands to his cheeks before giving him another hug. “I’m so happy for you two.” She kissed him on the cheek and then wiped off the lipstick.

  “Now, if you’re looking for names, I’ve always loved Britney or Jackson.”

  “Britney or Jackson.” He tried the names out and wasn’t a huge fan. “Got it. I’ll add them to the list.”

  She nodded approvingly.

  “How did you find out?” Josh asked.

  “Oh, honey. How do you think word spreads in our small town? I doubt there’s a single soul who doesn’t know. We’re all just playing along for Claire’s sake.” With that, Fran stepped past him to chat with a couple who’d just sat down in a booth.

  Josh made his way to the bar, shaking his head.

  “So how do you want to play this?” Mike asked while drying a beer mug.

  “Excuse me?” Still befuddled by Fran, Josh had no idea what Mike was talking about.

  “Do you want him to pretend he has no clue about your news?” Derek explained.

  Josh sat down on the stool and waited for Mike to pour him a beer.

  “Well?” Mike slid the mug toward him.

  Josh took a long drink of his beer and wiped the foam from his mouth.

  “I’m just trying to think of how to explain this to my wife. She’s been trying so hard to keep it a secret.”

  “She’s waiting for that three-month mark, right?” Mike asked.

  Josh nodded.

  “That’s what Mom said.” Mike jerked his head toward Fran. “Why not keep Claire in the dark? Don’t tell her everyone knows. What will it hurt?”

  Derek started to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Mike frowned.

  “You need a wife, man. What will it hurt? You keep a secret like this from your wife, and she finds out . . . you’re in the doghouse forever.” Derek slapped Josh on the shoulder. “If you don’t tell her, someone else will, and when she finds out you knew . . .” He shook his head and didn’t say another word.

  He was right, though. Claire would be upset, not because people knew, but because he knew they knew and didn’t tell her. Besides, she was twelve weeks along, so she should be okay with spreading the news.

  He pulled out his phone only to have Derek pull it from his hands.

  “Dude! You owe me a drink. Mike, you saw that, right? He pulled out his phone and was probably going to send Claire a text.” His head turned from Mike to Josh, back to Mike, then to Josh again. “Right?”

  He nodded.

  “Right is right. You saw it.” Derek grinned then handed Josh’s phone to Mike before reaching for his own and handing it over too.

  Months ago, they’d made a deal to never look at their phones while hanging out together. If their wives needed them, they knew to call the bar or Fran herself.

  Usually it was Derek who lost.

  “Dude, telling your wife right this instant isn’t going to do anything. Besides, she’s relaxing and getting pampered, and the last thing Abby needs is a stressed-out, pregnant friend tonight.” Derek hunched over his beer, his shoulders curved forward. He frowned.

  “What’s going on?” Josh took another swig and watched his friend.

  Derek didn’t say anything for a minute, just stared off to the side.

  “She’s been pretty down the past week or so. At first, I thought it was the monthly thing, you know, but I think it’s more than that. Not sure if it’s missing Mark or your wife being pregnant or what.”

  “I didn’t realize you guys wanted kids too.”

  “That’s the funny thing.” Derek reached for a handful of peanuts from a basket on the bar, “We don’t. Or at least, I thought we didn’t. Abs talks about adoption more than anything else, but it’s always for a future date, never for now. I thought we were happy with our lives, but then you had to screw it all up for us.”

  Josh thumped Derek on the shoulder, causing him to spill the peanut shells in his hand. “We didn’t screw anything up, so don’t put that on us, man.”

  Josh eyed the beer in front of Derek and wondered how many of those he’d already had.

  “I know. I’m sorry.” Derek put his hands behind his head and stretched. “Don’t listen to me. We’re beyond thrilled that you’re finally having a baby, and you know you’d better be naming us as godparents, right? ’Cause, dude, that would hurt.”

  “Hey, I thought I was going to be a godparent. You want someone fun, to teach the little kid what it’s like not to be saddled with stress.” Mike refilled the peanut basket.

  “Mike, no offense, but you are the last person I’d want teaching my child how to have fun.” Josh thought back to when they were teens and getting into a lot of trouble. Mike always came up with the ideas, and Josh just followed along. Like when Mike thought it would be a good idea to dress up the lampposts for Halloween by “borrowing” neighbors’ underwear from clotheslines. But it wasn’t Mike who got caught with a bra in one hand and a staple gun in the other.

  “You’re still holding a grudge about me taping that “Help Me” sign to the back of your tux on your wedding day, aren’t you?” Mike rolled his eyes.

  “Just you wait. When you find a woman who’ll put up with you, I’ll throw you a bachelor party you’ll never forget. I’m sure I can hire some of the women from the retirement home to come as strippers.” He ducked as Fran’s hand slapped the back of his head.

  “Don’t be so disrespectful, Joshua Turner. You were raised better than that.” The frown on Fran’s face was quite fierce.

  “Sorry, ma’am.” Josh struggled not to smile. The frown on Fran’s face was fierce. That was a good line. Now, he just needed a character with a name that started with F . . . Frankie maybe? Would Jack meet a Frankie in Europe? Sure he would. He’d—

  “Earth to Josh, do you hear me?” Derek nudged him, making him lose his balance on the barstool. “Dude, you just got your Jack look. You were thinking of your book again, weren’t you? I think we need another rule. No work talk or thought. Since you broke it first, you owe me another drink.” He grabbed his beer, downed it, and banged the empty mug down on the bar.

  “I’m not down with that rule, and I think you need to take it easy. How many have you had tonight?” Josh glanced at Mike, who held up three fingers. “How about we get some food? I’m starving.”

  “Why don’t you boys head over to the booth? I’ll put the order in for your usual, and you can leave my son in peace, so he can get back to work.” Fran slapped the bar top with the towel she kept slung over her shoulder.

  Although it was framed as a friendly suggestion, Fran meant business. She stood watching them the whole time, as Josh grabbed Derek’s arm and steered him to the booth. She brought over a pitcher of water, two more beers, and a basket of peanuts. “That’s your last for a while, so you’d better enjoy it,” she warned Derek before leaving.

  “She can’t dictate how much I can drink,” Derek muttered. “I’m a paying customer, and I’m not driving. If I want to fall flat on my face on my way home, that’s my business.”

  “No one is falling flat on their face. What is wrong with you?” This wasn’t like Derek at all.

  Derek rubbed the back of his neck and leaned back. “I don’t know, man. Things at home this past little bit have just been . . . different. I think it’s about Mark. It’s been two years, man. How long is she going to grieve?” He stared
up at the ceiling. “Do you know her mom still calls at night? Still. After two years. Not as bad as before, mind you, back when it was nightly. Now she calls maybe once a week.”

  “Still?” Did Claire know about this? If she did, she never said anything to him about it.

  “Still.” He shook his head in what Josh took to be disgust. “Claims she’s having a weak moment whenever she calls. All she asks is for Abby to repeat the last words he said to her. Come on. Enough already.”

  Josh didn’t know what to say. He was surprised at Derek’s callousness. He’d known Mark, though not well. Mark had been dedicated to the army, to serving his country, and the minute he could enlist, he had. It hadn’t just been his career. It had been his life. Sure, he’d passed away two years ago, but you can’t tell someone when to stop grieving.

  “All I know is that when the girls come home tomorrow, I need Abigail to be happy. I’m unplugging the phone every night from now on and shutting our cell phones off. I don’t care if my mother-in-law is having a fragile moment and needs encouragement,” Derek grumbled.

  “Dude, that’s harsh.” Josh watched the drops of condensation trickling down his beer mug. Normally, Derek was the wise one, the guy who cheered him up after another negative pregnancy result. It wasn’t often he saw this side of Derek—the cold, hard man. What happened to him?

  “Have you talked to Liz?” he asked.

  Derek snorted. “Till I’m blue in the face. I even called her pastor and got him to come over one night to help her. I know she needs to grieve, and I wouldn’t take that from her. But . . . I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being selfish. Am I? Being selfish?” Derek shook his head. “Now I feel like a girl, all insecure and crap.”

  “That’s enough.” Fran appeared out of nowhere and slapped her hand down on the table. She motioned for Josh to scoot over then sat down beside him.

  “Elizabeth lost her son and didn’t get a chance to say good-bye. That woman has been trying to appear strong, just like her daughter, your wife. You need to give her some space.”

  “But how much? It’s been two years, Fran,” Derek said.

  “With the anniversary just passed, don’t you think you need to give the women in your family a little break? Stop being such a jerk, Derek. You’re better than that.”

  Derek’s gaze dropped. “You’re right.”

  “I know. Now, when Liz calls, do you ever answer, or do you let your wife handle it?” Fran asked.

  “It’s Abby’s mom. I let her answer.”

  Fran snorted. “Figures,” she said. “How about you answer for a while? You say your wife is still grieving . . . maybe it’s time for you to be strong for her. Talk to your mother-in-law. Listen to her pleas. Be the son she needs right now. You’ll never replace Mark, but you can help her feel less alone.” Fran stood abruptly and wiped her hands on her apron. “You know this, Derek Cox. Smarten up and stop hiding behind your wife. Now, your food is ready. I’ll be back.”

  Josh watched the whole talk with growing astonishment. He’d caught the slight tremble in Fran’s hands and knew he’d witnessed the real deal, some tough love.

  “She didn’t have to be so harsh about it,” Derek mumbled after Fran walked away. “But she’s right.” He raised his head, and Josh saw a steadiness in his gaze for the first time that night. “She’s right.”

  “I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose a child,” Josh said.

  “Mark was a good guy,” Derek said.

  Josh lifted his beer. “He was the best. Someone to look up to. A real hero.”

  Derek lifted his own beer. “A true hero.”

  They drank to Mark and didn’t say much else until Fran brought their food. Along with wings, she brought two burgers. “Our special tonight. Hope you’re hungry.”

  “Starving.” Derek dug right in while Josh took his time.

  “Listen, Derek, man, I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” Derek picked up a wing drenched in hot sauce.

  “For being so selfish. I haven’t really been there, as a friend. You guys needed me. Needed us, and we let you down.” He thought back to all the times they’d come over for dinner or dessert, or when Abby came over to check on Claire . . . not once had they thought to focus on anything but Claire.

  What kind of friends were they?

  “The best kind.” Derek said and Josh startled, not realizing he’d said it out loud.

  “Listen, coming over to your place was like . . . a free zone for us.” He fiddled with his napkin. “There were no awkward silences or moments when neither one of us knew what to say about Mark’s death, even though it was always hanging there between us. Abby could laugh and not feel guilty, because the goal was to bring a smile to Claire’s face. Or she could be silent and not worry that I was going to ask if she were okay for the millionth time. Don’t feel bad.” Derek pushed his half-finished beer to the side and reached for his water glass.

  “A free zone?” Josh said.

  “Trust me,” Derek said. “You have no idea.”

  “Well.” Josh cleared his throat. “Either way, I am sorry, for at least not being more aware. But, any time you need the free zone, just say the word and come on over.”

  “You’ve got my back?”

  Josh nodded. There wasn’t a better friend a man could ask for. “Always.”

  Derek held up his fist. “Likewise. If this pregnancy thing gets to be too much, you know, hormones and stuff, just say the word.”

  Josh bumped his fist against Derek’s. “Deal.”

  He wolfed down half his burger, amazed at how good it tasted and wondered why burgers always taste better in a pub than at home.

  “You are excited though, right?” Derek asked.

  Josh nodded. “It’s like . . . winning the lottery. We gave up all hope, and then, it just happened.”

  Derek raised his glass. “Here’s to miracles, winning the lottery, and you finally becoming a dad.”

  Their glasses clinked together, and in that moment, Josh felt like the luckiest man on earth.

  SEVENTEEN

  CLAIRE

  A memory from Bruges, Belgium

  First week in April

  Claire tugged the blanket up past her head and burrowed as deep as she could.

  “Give me a few hours to myself, okay?” she mumbled. Her side of the bed sank, and a second later, the blanket was pulled out of her grasp.

  “I just gave you an hour. You were supposed to use that time to shower and get dressed. What’s going on?” He wiped away the tears that lingered on her cheeks. “You cried almost all night while you slept, did you know that?” he asked quietly.

  “I kept hearing a baby crying.” She reached for the blanket, but Josh pushed it further down the bed.

  “Breakfast is almost over, but I promised the chef you were on your way down. He’s saved you some champagne.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

  “Champagne for breakfast?” She liked this little Belgian luxury hotel hidden away on a side street.

  “All the mimosas your heart desires. But don’t drink too much—we’ve got a lot of walking to do today. Remember, we wanted to explore the rest of the city, beyond all the chocolate shops.”

  They’d arrived in Bruges yesterday in the early afternoon and spent hours walking the main streets and stopping in the chocolate stores they came across.

  Sampling chocolate in every chocolate shop in Bruges was on Josh’s bucket list. With a town boasting more than fifty chocolatiers, there was a lot of stopping and taste testing. He proudly marked it off last night despite complaining of an upset stomach.

  “You go,” Claire said.

  Josh stood up and then reached for her hands, pulling her up with him. “No can do. You’re coming with me.”

  Claire let herself be pulled up and gathered into her husband’s arms for a quick hug. The memory of those cries haunted her still. She couldn’t let it go.

  “I have an idea.” Josh led her across the large ro
om, up the stairs to the Jacuzzi. They had been upgraded to a spectacular suite.

  “What’s that?”

  “Let’s take today off. From everything.”

  She looked at him with surprise. “Everything?”

  He nodded. “We can just explore. No Jack. No stories. No drawings. No memories. No mourning. Nothing but what each minute brings us.”

  She let that sink in. “So. From everything.”

  “Everything. We’ll take life moment by moment, hour by hour, for one day. Remember when we used to do that?”

  The sound of that cry from her dream faded as what her husband proposed took shape in her mind. “I can do that. Moment by moment.”

  “Good.” The smile on his face was bright and wide, and his eyes lit up with excitement. “I hear there’s a convent that we should explore, and then we need to head to the Church of Our Lady to see Madonna and Child. And if we have time, we could stop in at Choco-Story, the chocolate museum . . .”

  Claire shook her head. “Oh no. No more chocolate. You promised yesterday.” She shook her finger at him. “One day, you said, one day to get it out of your system. One day to fully experience a chocolate town. No more.” If she had to smell another chocolate shop, the nausea would be too much.

  “But if we happen to pass by . . .” His voice trailed off.

  “Of course we’re going to pass by a shop, there’s one every few stores. No, Josh.” She patted his belly. “Just think of all the walking we have to do to work off all that chocolate from yesterday alone. No way. But, didn’t you promise me some original Belgium waffles and beer?”

  He licked his lips and rubbed his stomach, hamming it up, which got her chuckling. She knew he was trying to take her mind off the heaviness in her heart and put a smile on her face.

  For a moment, she felt guilty for smiling.

  “Just one day,” Josh said quietly, as if reading her thoughts.

  “One day.”

  If ever Claire had fallen in love with a town, it was Bruges. This medieval village was full of charm, character, and a stillness that soothed her soul. What would it take for them to live here, at least part time, or perhaps visit every year? All she would need was a month, at least a month, to allow the peace she’d found here to fill her up, to help her move forward.