He stopped at the corner and waited for the light to change, giving him permission to cross the street. A squeal of joy caused him to turn and look behind him. A couple—no more than twenty years old, either of them—stood in front of a jewelry store display, kissing each other, mindless of the staring passersby.
Young love. At first it seemed his thoughts mocked them, but after a moment he realized it was envy he felt, not disdain.
The light changed and the crowd surged around him, but Joe didn’t move. He watched the couple go into the jewelry store. He couldn’t seem to help himself. He followed them.
Inside the store, he observed the couple as they leaned over a display case filled with wedding and engagement rings.
“Pick the one you like best,” the young man said.
“No, I want the one you like best.”
They kissed again, their eyes open, as if they couldn’t get enough of the sight of each other.
A salesclerk arrived at Joe’s side. “May I help you find something, sir?”
“No, I—” He stopped himself and changed his answer. “Yes. I’d like something special…for my wife.” He glanced at the clerk’s name tag. Bridget, it read.
“Do you have anything in mind?” she asked.
“I’m afraid not.” He shrugged. “I’m not every good at this sort of thing.”
“How much did you want to spend?”
He shook his head, then shrugged again.
“Why don’t you step this way? We have a nice selection of earrings. Does your wife have pierced ears?”
He had to think for a moment. “Yes.”
“Perhaps she would like some diamond earrings.” She smiled at him. “I’ve never known a woman who could have too many diamonds.”
That statement would have fit his ex-wife, he thought as he followed Bridget, and it would have fit some of the women he’d dated over the years since his divorce.
But Alicia?
He imagined her in that oversize pink bathrobe and wearing those silly bunny slippers. He grinned. For some reason, diamonds didn’t fit the picture.
“Not diamonds,” he said to himself as he veered away from Bridget.
He found what he hadn’t even known he was seeking in the display case farthest from the store’s entrance. A ring with two small pearls and a cut stone the same blue-green as the dress he’d seen earlier. The same blue-green as Alicia’s eyes. The ring was dainty, understated. Perfect for Alicia Harris.
“Did you find something?” Bridget asked when she caught up to him.
“There.” He placed his index finger on the glass. “That ring there.”
“Oh, that’s a lovely choice. Let me get it out for you.” She leaned down to unlock the back of the case. “What size ring does your wife wear?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know. Her hands seem small to me.”
Bridget raised her eyebrows, and Joe suspected it took great effort for her not to roll her eyes, too.
“Let me see your hand.” When she held it up, he continued, “Looks to me like about the same size. Try it on.”
She placed it on the third finger of her right hand. It fit perfectly.
“I’ll take it.”
Alicia’s back was killing her and so were her feet.
“Sit down and rest,” Susie ordered in a motherly tone. “I’m capable of closing the till without your help.”
Alicia decided not to argue; she sank onto a nearby stool that was tucked behind the counter.
Her assistant manager glared at her. “You need to take time off until after the baby comes.”
“I’m fine. The doctor doesn’t think I need to stop work until—”
“I don’t care what he thinks. Look at you. You’re exhausted.”
“But this is our most important time of the year.”
Susie straightened, tilting her chin upward in defiance. “Are you saying I can’t be trusted to manage the store, Ms. Harris?”
“Of course not.” Alicia released a deep sigh.
“Then stay home and enjoy your grandfather. He came all the way from Arizona to be with you, and his health isn’t the best. You don’t know how many more opportunities you’ll have to be with him.”
“That’s true.”
A rap on the locked door drew both of their gazes. There was Joe, motioning to be let in.
“Stay home and enjoy him,” Susie added.
Without comment, Alicia pushed up from the stool and walked—actually, it was more of a waddle—toward the entrance. She turned the dead bolt, then pulled the glass door toward her, allowing him in, along with a blast of frigid air.
“You ready to go?” he asked.
Alicia glanced at Susie. “I’m ready.” She wouldn’t have dared say anything else. “I’ll get my coat.”
“No. Stay here. I’ll get it for you. You look beat.”
His comment made her feel fat and frumpy. He hadn’t meant it that way, but that was the effect, nonetheless. Maybe it would be better if they went straight home and forgot going out to eat. It was her grandfather’s idea, anyway, not Joe’s. He wouldn’t mind. He would probably be glad if she changed their plans.
When Joe returned with Alicia’s coat, Susie said, “You make sure she eats a good supper. She’s been working way too hard.”
“I’ll make sure,” he answered.
“I told Alicia she ought to go on maternity leave now, but she won’t hear of it. See if you can talk some sense into her.”
Joe looked at Alicia, one eyebrow slightly raised. “I’ll try.”
She sighed.
“Ready?” He held up her coat.
“I’m ready.” She turned around and slipped her arms into the sleeves.
“Then let’s go. I’m starved.” He took hold of her arm, then glanced over his shoulder. “Night, Susie.”
“Good night, you two. I’ll lock the door behind you. Have a good time.”
Joe’s grip on Alicia’s arm tightened as they stepped outside into the wind. “My car’s in the parking garage across the street.” He steered her toward the crosswalk. “I thought we’d go to Malloy’s. Is that okay?”
“Fine with me.”
It wasn’t far from downtown to the restaurant on Broadway Avenue, but heavy traffic made it seem farther. It was a good thirty minutes before they pulled into the parking lot at Malloy’s Seafood Bar and Grill. They had to park in back.
“Looks as if we might have a wait,” Joe said when he opened the passenger door for her.
“As long as there’s a place to sit down.”
He took her arm again. She liked the feel of it.
Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea…even if she did “look beat.”
Joe, on the other hand, looked marvelous. Alicia was aware of the women in the restaurant who stopped what they were doing in order to stare at him.
Hands off, ladies. He’s mine.
But he wasn’t hers, and the futility of her situation cut through her like a knife through the heart.
“We’re in luck,” Joe said after speaking to the maître d’. “They can seat us now. Come on.”
Their table was in a small alcove, giving the illusion of private dining. Alicia was grateful for that. She needed some isolation from crowds and noise.
Joe helped her off with her coat, then pulled out the chair for her. She mumbled her thanks as she sat down.
The waiter handed them each a menu while telling them that evening’s specials. “I’ll be back to take your order,” he said before walking away.
While Joe perused the menu, Alicia watched him, wondering how she had allowed herself to care for him this way. Why hadn’t she guarded her heart? Grandpa Roger would tell her that no mistake is wasted if a person learns from it. Why hadn’t she learned her lesson when it came to falling in love in a rush?
This man, as wonderful and kind as he was, didn’t want marriage and a family. Given her advanced pregnancy, it was obvious she would be all wrong for him. In
a matter of weeks, she would be a package of two. If a man loved her, he would have to love her child, as well.
She lowered her gaze to the menu in her hand.
God, please remove these feelings from my heart. I don’t think I have the strength to have it broken again. Not with Joe.
After a few failed attempts to jump-start a conversation, Joe decided to allow Alicia to eat her supper in peace. Not that she did much of a job of it. It seemed to him that she spent more time moving food around on her plate than consuming it.
He was about to ask what was troubling her when she whispered, “Oh!” Her hands went to her abdomen.
Joe’s gaze followed hers, and he was amazed to see her maternity top move, as if driven by a wave beneath the surface. “What was that?”
“The baby.”
It happened again.
“The baby?”
She looked at him, smiling. “I get tired, and Humphrey gets active. Happens all the time.”
“I’ve never seen that before.”
She was silent a moment, then asked, “Would you like to feel it for yourself?”
“I don’t know…”
“It’s okay if you do. I don’t mind.”
“Are you sure?”
She took hold of his hand, placing it on her belly. “I’m sure.”
He waited…and waited…and waited. He was about to withdraw his hand when he felt something. Something strong and almost sharp.
He looked up, meeting her gaze. “What is that?”
“Most likely a knee or an elbow. Could be a heel.”
“And this happens often?”
She laughed. “Often enough.”
“Does it hurt?”
“No. Not usually, anyway.”
He drew back his hand. “Amazing.”
Amazing, indeed. Something inside Joe stirred as surely as the baby had stirred inside of Alicia. This was a life. This was a miracle. As the psalm said, God Himself had knit this child together in his mother’s womb. This precious life was wonderfully complex. God had seen this baby before he—or she—was conceived and had already recorded every day of little Humphrey’s life long before now.
Did all expectant fathers realize how amazing it was, this small creation, this new life? No. Not all of them. Humphrey’s father hadn’t. But now Joe had, and he wasn’t any too sure what to do with that discovery.
“Joe?”
He met her gaze.
“Grandpa’s worried about our marriage. He thinks we’re in trouble.”
“Why’s that?”
“He knows you were sleeping in the nursery. He saw you coming out of that bedroom the other morning. I…I told him another lie. I said you slept in there when I was too restless.” She looked out the window. “I thought it would be easier than it is.”
“What would be easier?”
“Pretending we’re married.”
He wanted to comfort her but wasn’t sure how. “We haven’t done too bad of a job, all things considered.”
Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “But we don’t act like two people in love.”
He remembered the young couple in the jewelry store, the way they’d gazed into the other’s eyes with…adoration. Had a woman ever looked at him that way? Had he ever felt that same depth of devotion?
“It can’t be easy for you to act the part.” She looked at him again. “I’m not very attractive these days.”
He leaned forward. “You’re wrong, Alicia. You look beautiful.”
“I wasn’t fishing for compliments.” The smile that curved the corners of her mouth had a hint of wistfulness about it.
“I wasn’t serving up a compliment. I meant it.”
But he could see in her eyes that she didn’t believe him, and before he could think what to do or say next, their server arrived with the check. The moment to say more—to say things he didn’t yet understand—was gone. A short while later, they left the restaurant, words still unspoken, emotions swallowed up in silence.
Chapter Ten
Joe didn’t sleep well that night. He heard every creak the old house made. Making matters worse, that button on the monitor in Alicia’s room was stuck again. He heard every breath she took, every whimper out of Rags, even Rosie as she padded around on one of her nocturnal inspections.
That would have all been bad enough if he’d understood why he couldn’t sleep, if he could pinpoint the reason and then deal with it. But it wasn’t that simple. This had more to do with fuzzy impressions and disturbing, unnamed emotions than with anything concrete.
Joe dealt better with the concrete than with the abstract. Probably what made him a good lawyer.
He had just checked the clock for the umpteenth time—7:00 a.m.—when he heard Alicia’s gasp. A sound of pain.
“Alicia?” He whispered into the monitor. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” The word was barely out of her mouth when she caught her breath again.
He picked up the monitor. “What is it?”
“Just a stitch in my side. That’s all.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I’m all right.”
“You don’t sound all right.”
“Well, I am.”
He spoke in his sternest lawyer’s voice. “I think Susie’s right. You need to stop working until after the baby comes.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not the one being ridiculous. I’m telling you, you need to stay home.”
“And who do you think you are to tell me what to do?”
Joe switched on the bedside lamp. “I’m the one with the common sense.”
Alicia didn’t reply right away. When she did, her anger was unmistakable. “My work schedule is none of your business.” She enunciated each word with care.
“It is as long as we’re playing this little charade of yours,” he replied with the same precision. “Your grandfather would expect it. Remember? I’m supposed to be your husband. Even a guy like me knows you need to rest and take better care of yourself. At least think about the welfare of the baby.”
“How dare you?” she whispered.
“I dare plenty when I care enough.”
Alicia didn’t reply to that.
He’d said more than he should have. “You’re single and over twenty-one. Do what you please.” He set the monitor on the nightstand, rose and dressed, then headed for his basement office.
Before he reached the stairs, his outrage had evaporated. Alicia was right. It wasn’t any of his business. She could decide what was best for herself.
He should apologize to her. He was out of line and he knew it.
Once in his office, he booted up his laptop, listening as it whirred to life, making all its usual sounds before it was ready for his first command. He considered opening his word-processing program and doing a bit of work, but he logged on to the Internet instead, hoping a visit to one of his favorite sites would take his mind off of Alicia.
He looked over the snow reports for Bogus Basin, Brundage Mountain and Sun Valley. He priced new skis, boots and poles. He even checked on a two-week vacation package to a resort in Switzerland.
Alicia remained all the while in his thoughts.
He wasn’t sure what possessed him to go to a search engine and enter the word maternity in the search box. The first links in the list of Web sites didn’t improve his spirits: complications of birth, difficult births, breech delivery.
Then he found some options on birthing classes. Curious, he followed the links and began reading.
By the time he heard footsteps on the stairs, he had a passing knowledge about the Lamaze and Bradley natural childbirth methods, understood about birthing rooms and “mother-friendly” hospitals and had printed off a copy of Ten Tips for a Healthy Pregnancy as well as several pages of frequently asked questions.
He closed his Internet browser just as Grandpa Roger appeared in the doorway.
“Am I intruding?”
the older man asked.
“No. Not at all. I was about ready to go upstairs and get myself something to eat.”
“Mind waiting a minute or two?”
Joe shook his head. “No, sir.”
Alicia’s grandfather settled onto a wooden chair that had seen better days; it rocked slightly on its uneven legs. The elderly man’s expression was grim. Apprehension tightened Joe’s belly.
“You know,” Grandpa Roger began, “I’ve come to like you in the short while I’ve been here.”
“Thank you, sir. The feeling’s mutual.”
“You and Alicia seem right for each other.”
Uh-oh.
Grandpa Roger’s eyes narrowed as he looked across the desk at Joe. “Society’s mores have changed a great deal during my lifetime. Not always for the better. In some circles nowadays, marriage is considered passé. Even among some who call themselves Christian.” He gave his head a slow shake. “I’m not part of those circles, Joe. I remain firmly convinced that men and women should wed before they are physically intimate, and I most definitely believe they should be legally joined in matrimony before they bring children into the world.” He leaned forward. “Do you think those beliefs are antiquated, young man?”
“Ah…no, sir.”
“Good. Then will you tell me why you haven’t married my granddaughter?”
Joe glanced toward the stairway, then back at the older man.
“I overheard you two talking this morning. From separate rooms, I might add. I put two and two together and got four. You’ve arranged some elaborate hoax for my benefit.”
“Sir, I—”
“Do you love her?”
“Yes. Yes, of course I do.” Was that a lie or the truth?
“And you want to participate in raising your child, give him a good home?”
It wasn’t his child but his answer came swift and strong. “Yes.”
“Then I expect you to do right by them both. I expect you and Alicia to get married. If you love her and want to be a part of her life and your baby’s life, then there’s no reason you shouldn’t.”
“Mr. Harris…sir…well, you see, the reason we haven’t—”
“Don’t tell me.” The dread on the older man’s face might have been comical if it hadn’t made him look as if he were about to suffer another heart attack. “You’re not a married man, are you?”
Bundle of Joy Page 8
