Harlequin Special Edition October 2015, Box Set 1 of 2

by Christine Rimmer

  Anna would never forget the immense rush of emotion that hit her when she’d flipped on the nursery’s light and seen Logan’s handiwork for the very first time. She’d known, instantly, what had driven him to give their daughter a bedroom of flight and fantasy, and she was struck with such overwhelming love and gratitude and peace that her knees had nearly buckled from the force and she’d all but dropped into the lovely handcrafted rocking chair.

  She had come so close to sharing her love with Logan that night, to telling him that her greatest desire was to live true to their vows and to stay together. Forever. But as much as she yearned to say those words, she found herself physically incapable.

  And really, in the two weeks since, those darn words had stayed clogged in her throat, always right there, so close to being said but never quite reaching her lips. Why? Well, she hadn’t quite decided, but she figured there must be a reason. When the time was right, she’d know, and she wouldn’t face any difficulty in telling Logan all that was in her heart.

  “Honey, we need to have a chat,” Lola said as she came around to the back of the counter. “You can’t keep doing this, and even if you think you can, I can’t let you.”

  “You’ve confused me, auntie.” Anna started wiping the counter, mostly to keep her lovesick gaze away from Lola’s all-seeing one. “I can’t keep doing what?”

  “Coming in here and attempting to work when you can barely stand up straight.” Lola leaned against the counter Anna was trying to clean and angled her arms over her chest. “Now, I know you want to work two more weeks, but that isn’t happening. Today is your last day until after that baby is born,” she said. “And don’t put up a fuss. I’ve made up my mind. Just go home, finish preparing for your daughter and relax.”

  Oh, the thought sounded heavenly but, “I’ve finished preparing, and I can’t just go home and sit around for four weeks. If I don’t stay busy, the time will crawl, and it’s already going slow enough.” Anna stopped cleaning and leaned against the counter, next to her aunt. “And it’s smarter to save every penny I can. I need to be ready to move out in a year. Just in case.”

  Now, that thought? She hated it. Passionately.

  She did not want to move in a year, and she didn’t want to worry about having a divorce-ready nest egg saved, and yes, she wanted their idiotic rules to change. But only if Logan wanted the same, and only if his reasons were true and right.

  “Don’t know what you need to prepare yourself for,” Lola said in a somewhat gruff manner. “In a year’s time, you’ll be either living on that ranch in Wyoming or moving back into my house. Either way, losing a few weeks of pay isn’t going to make much of a difference.”

  “What are you talking about? There has been zero discussion about living in Wyoming.” And darn if the admission didn’t kick-start her hormones. Anna pressed her fingertips against her cheeks in an effort to halt the flood of tears before it started, to absolutely no avail. “He hasn’t s-said a word, you see, so—so—”

  Damn it! She was so freaking tired of crying.

  Lola guided her to the sole chair they kept behind the counter and helped her sit. “Why these tears? By all appearances, you’re not the only person in your marriage falling in love.”

  “I don’t know. That’s the problem.” Anna wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, swallowed a mouthful of air and centered herself. “And how do you know what’s going on? I’ve tried to keep this from you since you were so worried about it in the first place.”

  “Well, not exactly this,” Lola said, stroking Anna’s hair off her face. And the action, as simple as it was, offered comfort. “And I’d have to be blind not to see what’s happening. But what do you mean, he hasn’t said a word? In what regard?”

  “Just that. He hasn’t said anything about his feelings toward me or if he’s having second thoughts about our arrangement or if he...” Shrugging, Anna pulled in another breath. “I don’t know what’s in his head most of the time, auntie, let alone in his heart.”

  “Hmm. Have you told him what’s in your head, in your heart?”

  “No, but I want to. I...I keep trying, but something holds me back.”

  Concern lit Lola’s gaze. “Now look, whatever is happening between the two of you, only the two of you can define. No one else. But honey, you have to decide if you love him enough to fight for him, and if there’s something holding you back from doing so, then...well, I think you should give that instinct the proper amount of weight. It’s there for a reason.”

  And her aunt’s advice was so eerily close to Anna’s thoughts on the matter that she nodded. “I think that’s exactly what I’m doing, but it’s hard. I have these warring instincts, I guess. And it’s difficult to determine which instinct is the one I should listen to.”

  “Then I don’t see any harm in letting those instincts battle it out for a little while longer,” Lola said, her eyes kind. “I guarantee that, eventually, one of them will beat the other to the ground, and you’ll know what step is the right step. There won’t be any doubt.”

  And those, Anna thought, were very wise words, indeed.

  * * *

  A pair of cold hands shook Logan’s shoulders, and a sharp, insistent voice yanked him clean out of a deep, dreamless sleep. His eyes shot open, and Anna was standing next to the bed, bent over his prone form. Even in the dim light that poured in from the hallway, he recognized the potent mix of panic and excitement in her eyes, in her expression.

  His heart jumped to his throat. “Now?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Now.”

  “Are you sure?” Sitting up, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Gave his head a good, hard shake and said, “But honey, Flash is not supposed to come for ten more days.”

  “Due dates are not an exact science.” Her voice wavered as she spoke, and her body wobbled enough that she grasped the bedpost for support. “Babies come when they’re ready to come, and Logan, our baby—whose name will never be Flash—is quite insistent that she’s ready. Get out of bed. Get dressed. I...I’m starting to lose it, here.”

  Her wavering and wobbling served to shift his brain into high gear. “Right. Okay. How far apart are the contractions? Because if they’re not consistent, this likely isn’t true labor, and honey, I know you’re scared, but let’s remember everything we learned, and—”

  “My water broke,” she said, interrupting him, her voice picking up speed. “And I don’t know, because I haven’t timed them, but they seem awfully fast, and...and we need to go.”

  He leaped from the bed, wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. And yeah, he was scared, and no, he did not like the pain Anna would suffer over the next many hours, but a thread of exhilaration existed, as well. Soon he would meet his daughter.

  Forcing himself to drop his arms, he cupped Anna’s face with his hands and met her frightened gaze with his steady one, saying, “We’re in this together, Anna, and whatever you need from me today, I will do my utmost best to supply.”

  “Promise?”

  “Oh yeah, baby, I promise.”

  She leaned into him for a full five seconds, as if wanting to take advantage of this tiny moment of peace they’d found. Then, “We have to go. Please?”

  “Of course,” he said, heading for the bathroom. “Ten minutes and we’ll be on the road.”

  “Make it five. If you can. Seriously, Logan.” She stopped, inhaled a shaky-sounding breath. “My bags are by the door, and I’ve already called the hospital, so they know we’re on the way. But hurry. I...just want to get there, where I know she’ll be safe.”

  Where they would be safe, mother and daughter.

  But Logan did not correct her, just rushed through brushing his teeth and washing his face. He threw on yesterday’s jeans and T-shirt because they were handy, and in five minutes, with Anna’s bags in tow, he was
shepherding his wife to the car.

  And wow, he was so grateful he was here and not at the ranch, where he’d been for the whole of last week. He’d only just returned that afternoon. The thought of Anna being alone and going through any of this without him was harsh. Worse, even, than the possibility of missing the sound of his daughter’s first breath, her first wailing cry.

  In the car, he started the ignition and backed out of the driveway. Beside him, Anna’s arms remained locked around her stomach, and every now and then, she let out the tiniest of whimpers. And Logan wished he could take her pain, her fear, and put both on himself.

  “How are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked.

  “Scared. Excited. Overwhelmed.” She shifted some in her seat. “And a little peeved we don’t have a name. She needs a name. An amazing, wonderful, perfect name.”

  “I agree, and she will,” he said, kicking himself for not searching through all those baby-name books Anna had left lying around. He’d meant to. “Let’s worry about getting you more comfortable, and then we’ll see what we can do about finding that perfect name.”

  “Okay, and...” Anna’s words trailed away, and he could see she was having another contraction. He slid his hand from the steering wheel to grip hers, and she held on tight. When the contraction faded, she said, “Do you think, if it’s at all possible, we could hurry up on the making-me-more-comfortable portion of the night? I really, really like the sound of that.”

  “Yep. I’m working on it.”

  “Good,” she said in almost a whisper. “While you do, I’m just going to close my eyes for a few minutes, before the next one starts.”

  “That sounds like an excellent plan.” Logan turned on the radio but kept the volume low, hoping the music would help Anna relax. Then he focused on the road.

  Fortunately, due to the early morning hour, there was almost no traffic to speak of and they encountered only one red light. When Logan swerved into the hospital parking garage, he was somewhat stunned to realize that only thirty-two minutes had elapsed since he’d opened his eyes to the news that his baby was on her way. It was... Well, the word crazy came to mind.

  And nerve-racking. Along with absolutely, positively thrilling.

  Logan could not wait to meet his daughter. To see what she looked like. To feel the weight of her in his arms when he held her for that first miraculous time. And he could not wait to see Anna’s face the first time she saw and cradled their daughter.

  Could. Not. Wait.

  That night in the nursery, Logan had realized that his love for Anna was real and true. With a certainty that defied logic, he knew that this love would not decrease or vanish with the birth of their baby. Just the opposite would occur, and the enormity of all he felt would surge in strength and power and conviction. He knew this.

  As of yet, however, he had not shared this revelation with Anna.

  There were reasons for his hesitation. Good, solid, valid reasons, at that. Mainly, Anna would require time to recover from pregnancy, labor and childbirth, to settle into the role of new mother and to regain a sense of normalcy. Until she had the proper amount of time for all of the above to occur, she would likely feel more vulnerable than her usual self.

  Broaching any possibility that would involve extreme change too soon would be taking advantage of this vulnerability. In Logan’s estimation, doing so would prove not only selfish but also dishonorable. And behaving in a selfish, dishonorable manner did not go over well with Logan.

  He wouldn’t purposely behave that way with anyone, but choosing his needs over Anna’s, the woman he loved? Never.

  So yes, he had good, solid, valid reasons for waiting, and he wished he could pretend that there wasn’t anything more than those reasons behind his hesitation. But there was more. A wall of sorts that he wasn’t prepared to break down as of yet, despite his desire to allow Anna complete access.

  He’d figure out what was holding him back. He’d have to. Otherwise nothing would change.

  Logan parked the car and pocketed his keys, saying, “Open your eyes, honey. We’re here. Let’s get you inside.”

  Blinking, she nodded and waited for him to come around to her side of the car, to help her stand, and his worry ramped up to the next level. Never had he witnessed her this subdued or this quiet. To see Anna in such a way disconcerted him, as it made him distinctly aware of her discomfort and her distress. And he hated that he couldn’t ease either.

  The walk through the parking garage to the elevators took them a while because each step brought her pain. So they went slowly. When they reached the first floor of the hospital, he spied a row of wheelchairs. Anna saw them, too. She nodded toward them, and as one, they headed in their direction. The second he had her seated and as comfortable as possible, he made quick work of getting them to the next set of elevators and up to the labor and delivery wing.

  Still, she didn’t talk. Not one word.

  After what seemed a friggin’ eternity, Anna was admitted and they were shown to her room. For the first hour, there was a buzz of almost constant activity. One nurse gave her an exam, ascertaining the progress of Anna’s labor—she was three centimeters dilated—and another nurse asked her a bunch of questions, took her vitals, put in her IV and hooked her to the fetal monitor. That was nice, being able to hear the reaffirming beat of their daughter’s heart.

  Since Anna was not far enough along in her labor for an epidural, she was given a quick-acting drug that the nurse promised would make her more comfortable.

  And Lord, was Logan relieved. The nurse was right, as only a few minutes passed before Anna started breathing easier and her posture relaxed.

  Scooting his chair to her bedside, he said, “You look like you’re already feeling better.”

  “Oh, I am. It’s weird, though, because the pain is still there... I just don’t seem to care as much.” Her lips stretched into a loosey-goosey grin. “I feel tipsy, actually. It’s like the perfect amount of tipsy, just enough where you feel really good but are still in control.”

  “Well, if I remember correctly, that perfect tipsy was what led us to where we are now,” Logan said, referring to the night they met. The night their journey began.

  “That was a good night, Logan.”

  “Yes, Anna, it was most definitely a good night.”

  “She’ll be happy, won’t she?” Anna’s hand went to her stomach. “I mean, not all of the time. No one is happy every second of every day. But we’ll give her enough love, enough wonder and magic and laughter, that she’ll be happy more often than she’s not. Right?”

  “We’ll do the best we can,” Logan said, answering honestly. “But I think more important than all the rest is love. She’ll have our love, Anna, from her first breath to our last.”

  At once, he was struck by her beauty, by where they were and, again, that this life they’d created was raring up to make her appearance. And now that Anna wasn’t feeling so much pain, didn’t seem so frightened, Logan allowed himself to revel in his awe, his excitement.

  “You know, the longer I think about it, Flash isn’t such a horrible name,” Anna said, her eyes closed, her words slurring just a small amount. “Because you are right. Flash Daugherty sounds like the cool kid at the school. The one everyone wants to be friends with.”

  “Ah... Anna, that’s the tipsy talking,” he said with a grin. No way, nohow would his daughter be named Flash. Now, a son? Perhaps. “And darlin’, you would truly be spitting mad if I were to agree with this decision of yours when you’re in such a state.”

  “Then come up with a name, cowboy, because—”

  His smartphone beeped from his pocket, interrupting Anna’s sentence and indicating a call. Logan’s heart dropped to the soles of his feet. As of yet, they had not notified anyone they were at the hospital or that Anna was in labor, and it was early
for a social call.

  Which left one possibility: bad news was waiting to be delivered.

  Very bad news, because the everyday sort of bad news could typically wait until a decent hour of the day. And Logan did not want to answer and hear whatever variety of very bad news this phone call would convey. Not ever, naturally. But, please Lord, not today.

  Not on the day he was supposed to meet his daughter.

  Anna opened her eyes, sat up on the bed. Her pale complexion lightened another degree. “Who could that be? No one would be calling at this time, unless—”

  “I know, I know. But I don’t want to answer.”

  “You have to. You know you do.”

  And yeah, he did know that, so he yanked the phone from his pocket and saw it was his mother. His throat, chest and gut tightened in unison. Yeah. This was gonna be bad.

  In the second before he accepted the call, Anna reached for his free hand and entwined her fingers with his and squeezed. Offering support. He looked at her, into her eyes, and kept right on looking when he said, “What’s wrong, Mom?”

  “It’s Granddad, Logan,” Carla said, her voice nearly inaudible through her gasps and her tears. Her shock. “He’s had a h-heart attack, son, a real bad one. They’re n-not sure if—if he’ll survive this. I th-think it would be good for you to get here. As soon as you can. Just in case.”

  In those initial few minutes, he kept his head straight and asked for more details: what had happened, when, what the doctors were saying, precisely, about Granddad’s condition, and how his grandmother was holding up. Once he had that information, he tried to say the right words, tried to give his mother a little strength and comfort, some peace.

  And as he spoke and listened, while his brain absorbed what it could and his heart tried to put up shields against the colossal barrage of emotions—anguish and fury, guilt and resentment—bent on a full-frontal attack, he continued to stare into Anna’s eyes, which were now filled with tears. Because yes, they were close enough that she heard everything.