Falling for the Mom-to-Be

by Lynne Marshall

  Could she read the caution in his expression? To avoid her scrutiny, he smiled harder than necessary. “Fantastic.” He seemed to be stuck on the word.

  She cleaned her hands and took off the scarf. “Time for the meeting?”

  He nodded. They’d avoided the topic since their argument the night she’d gotten sick. She probably assumed they were still on opposite sides, but the funny thing was, he’d had a change of heart. The debate with Marta had pointed it out and removed the importance of buried treasure in favor of laying the past to rest, leaving the spirits alone and moving the town forward.

  “I’ve got a crew coming to help this afternoon, so I’ll just leave things as they are.” She approached, and without a second thought, he kissed her. “Mmm,” she said.

  Something as simple as that buoyed his mood right up to the cumulus clouds dotting the otherwise-clear blue sky and helped him forget the magnitude of the meeting they were about to attend.

  As they approached the auditorium, the crowd thickened and the noise level rose. Conversations buzzed across the colorful sea of people as Leif and Marta walked down the aisle toward the stage. Lilly and Desi sat in the second row and had saved a seat for Marta. Leif guided her toward them with his hand at the small of her back. Lilly looked up and smiled at them, her gaze dropping to his hand and quickly toward Desi’s eyes. Maybe it was the flush on Marta’s cheeks or that sparkle when she gazed at him, but the ladies’ quick interchange proved they’d noticed. He thought he saw Lilly mouthing, “What’d I tell you?” to Desi, who then cast a knowing smile first at Leif and another toward Marta.

  What was with the lady radar? Or was it all his imagination? To put any questions about their relationship to rest, just before Marta stepped into the row of chairs, he reached for her neck, pulled her close and kissed her. The usual electricity flashed in her eyes afterward, and it made him smile from his heart. As Marta edged her way toward the empty seat, Leif engaged first Lilly then Desi’s attention, nodded and hinted at another smile before heading to the stage. That’s right, girls, we’re an item. Oh, to be a fly on that auditorium-chair arm for their conversation.

  Gerda had dressed like a mayor today in a navy blue suit with a white blouse, offset by a red, white and blue scarf. Her white hair was swept up into a looser knot than usual, and the word dignified immediately came to mind. He’d noticed since Desi had come home Gerda had become more stylish, and it probably had to do with her granddaughter’s input. He also noticed how Gerda had stepped up to the tough task of taking on the job of mayor, even with this big mess she’d walked into, and she’d earned his true respect for that.

  Leif took his seat next to Gunnar. Gunnar’s sister, Elke, sat on the other side, and next to her was Ben Cobowa, who looked grim faced. Leif knew exactly where Ben stood on the topic.

  Gerda cleared her throat and spoke into the microphone. “I’d like to call this meeting to order. Please take your seats and quiet down.”

  Surprisingly, the audience quickly responded with muttering and whispers fading to quiet without having to be asked twice. It proved to Leif how important the citizens of Heartlandia took this vote.

  Watching from the podium, it became apparent to Leif that there were distinct groups. The Chinook citizens in one section, college students in another, business owners and restaurateurs congregated in a group and the Scandinavian matriarchs and patriarchs assembled in still another section. He cleared his throat as tension gathered there. Today’s meeting might turn to chaos regardless of the outcome of the democratic vote. Making sure he could get to Marta and out the nearest door, if necessary, he listened as Gerda concluded her brief but perfectly worded speech. No one had known the vote tally before her speech.

  “The vote was very close, but there was a clear majority. Without further ado, Heartlandia has voted and we have listened. Though we won’t rush ahead with anything, we will move forward with the plans to explore and possibly dig up the buried trunk, with the intent of disturbing as little burial ground as completely necessary. This technique will soon be explained in the Heartlandia Herald.”

  Leif glanced at Elke and Ben, alarm tightening their eyes.

  Cheers and protests erupted; grumbling and excitement all mixed together in a clamorous stew. Certain brows knitted with distress, concern registered on other faces, victory lit up some eyes and gravity darkened features in others. What a mess.

  Gerda used a gavel to bang on the podium, but it didn’t do any good. Sgt. Norling stepped up, making three harsh claps in front of the microphone, but to no avail. He whistled through his teeth, renting the air. That got some to quiet down, but others still huddled in heated conversations.

  A gentleman who looked as if he’d stepped straight off a movie set walked toward the stage. Clearly Native American, he wore a dark suit with a leather bolo tie, expensive-looking boots and enough turquoise jewelry to open his own Southwest attire store. His hair was long and braided in historical Native American fashion. His stern expression promised further discussion on the supposedly closed topic.

  Hadn’t they already been through this part? The vote had been cast. In his heart, Leif hoped they’d just drop the whole thing. Forget the trunk had ever been mentioned in the captain’s journal and move on, but it was too late. Definitely. And he’d been the one to bring the original trunk to the attention of the powers that be. Regret at seeing his town torn apart made him wish he’d never come forward with his findings, but in his heart he knew it was what he’d had to do.

  Lilly had set up an interview with Leif for next week regardless of what the outcome would be. Now, with the vote being final, he planned to explain how he intended to identify the trunk and what was inside without actually digging a huge hole. He’d given this possibility a lot of thought. Maybe if the folks understood the technique they’d calm down.

  The visitor spoke to Gerda, and afterward she solemnly glanced at Ben and Elke, who were nearby, then she nodded. He stepped toward the microphone. “My name is William Maquinna. I am a lawyer and am here on behalf of the Chinookan peoples of the Clatsop tribe, who wish to maintain the sanctity of their forefathers’ burial ground.”

  “We took a vote, fair and square.” One man, three-quarters back in the auditorium, stood and shouted him down, causing good Scandinavian manners to intervene with an outburst of shushing.

  The speaker ignored the man. “We maintain this sacred ground is not in Heartlandia’s jurisdiction.”

  “Mr. Maquinna?” Mayor Rask spoke up tentatively. She leaned toward the mic. “We’ve done our research, and though the Ringmuren delineates the park from the burial grounds, the land does, in fact, also belong to Heartlandia. I’ll be glad to share the maps with you.” She glanced up at the audience. “Or anyone.”

  With the speakers at a standoff, the audience got noisy again, and Gunnar called in the nearby increased police presence. There had never been a riot in Heartlandia, and today wouldn’t be any different. It wasn’t in their genes. But because emotions were running high, having additional police made sense.

  Gunnar got a call and, assessing the brewing situation before him, took it. He spoke less than thirty seconds, while Gerda regained the attention of the audience.

  “The town monument’s been vandalized,” he said to Leif as soon as he hung up. “Someone’s sprayed paint all over it.”

  What if Marta’s mural got defaced, too? Leif stood, walked off the stage and strode directly to her. “You need to know something,” he said, reaching across the first row to get her hand as the crowd continued on in the unruly fashion.

  Hustling to get into the aisle, she followed him to the side of the stage. “What’s up?”

  “Someone’s defaced your grandfather’s monument.”

  Anger sparked in her gaze, and her chin shot up with indignation. “Who would do such a thing?”

  “Who knows?”

  “I’ve got to make sure no one ruins my work, too. Let’s go,” she said.

  Like a
lioness protecting her young, Marta grabbed Leif’s hand and led him toward the door at the side of the stage. He didn’t protest, though he glanced back at the auditorium, wondering how things would turn out.

  “I knew nothing good would come of this buried-treasure business,” she muttered as they pushed through the door.

  At least she hadn’t said I told you so.

  “Was my grandfather’s work ruined?” she asked as they jog walked toward the history quad.

  “Gunnar said they’d used spray paint. The sculpture is granite, right?”

  She nodded. “I think we’d better bring in some experts for this job.”

  “Know anyone?”

  “I’ll ask around.”

  When they arrived at the half-painted mural, relief rolled over Leif’s nerves and across Marta’s face. It was just as they’d left it.

  Chapter Eight

  Over the weekend, Sgt. Norling caught the misguided college students who’d defaced public property. They’d left a note at the scene stating that all history of Heartlandia was bogus. Thanks to Marta’s input, Gunnar had called in the National Park Service experts on graffiti removal. The granite sculpture would require a special restorative cleaning agent for porous stone surfaces, applied with natural bristle brushes. Then, to prevent further damage, the cleanser would be removed with potable water using fan-tipped garden hoses.

  Just what Heartlandia needed, another town project focusing on their shaky beginnings.

  To keep Marta’s project safe, Leif built a sliding protective barrier for the entire length of the mural that could be rolled closed and locked each day. His goal was to give Marta peace of mind. Depending on the state of the city once the mural was completed, the college could elect to leave the weatherproof cover in place or take it down.

  Grumbling and heated debates continued all over town during the weekend, and the police had to step up their watch, but no fights had been reported. The biggest protestors were the college students, who’d held a peaceful sit-in at the Ringmuren to make their point.

  Monday morning before heading to the mural site, Marta read Lilly’s article about Friday’s meeting, the outcome and the citywide reaction. The Herald reporting was evenhanded. The reader couldn’t possibly tell whose side she was on, even though Marta knew personally that Lilly was against any intervention on sacred soil. Lilly ended her weekly column asking the question: “Did the students make a good point, even though choosing the stupid method of vandalism to make it? Or is it possible for a couple of new pieces of information—Captain Prince discovering Heartlandia and potential buried treasure in sacred land—to change everything else this town has been built on?”

  Now, as Marta painted the college wall, she considered the article. She expected that in the heat of everything going on, there would be an onslaught of responses to the questions posed for weeks to come.

  Having done the lion’s share of work in the preparation for painting the mural—Marta had used the schematic grid over the smaller version in transferring the painting to scale on the college history quad walls—transferring the project seemed like a breeze. Things were moving along quicker than she’d expected. Most important, she was proud of the results so far. She stood back and smiled at the day’s work. The mural looked great, if she did say so herself.

  Getting back to painting, Marta called out the next color she needed, and almost immediately Desi handed up the paint to her with a clean brush.

  “I don’t know what I would have done without your fiancé coming to Leif’s house when I was sick,” Marta casually mentioned through the respirator mask while feathering dove-colored clouds on top of the cornflower-blue sky.

  “He’s the most caring man I’ve ever met.”

  Funny, Marta thought she’d already met the most caring man in all of Heartlandia. Leif.

  “You’re a lucky woman,” she said rather than debate the matter. “When’s your wedding?”

  “We want to get married the Saturday after Christmas.”

  “How lovely!” It was quickly approaching Thanksgiving, so that was soon.

  “I’d love for you to come.”

  Wow. Once Marta finished the project and left town, could she handle turning right around and coming back and seeing Leif again, by then her pregnancy overshadowing everything else? Or would it be smart to stay on with Leif that extra month? She forced her attention back to painting rather than think about the possibility. “Please send me an invitation, and if there’s any way I can make it, I’ll be here.”

  Maybe that could be her backup plan. Leave, let Leif realize what he’d be missing for a month, then come back and force him to admit he cared about her. After laying down the rules, she’d quickly lost track of the “no strings” part, falling deeper each day for him. But was it reciprocal? She had no clue. In all of their crazy lovemaking, he’d never once uttered anything about her staying on with him. Shouldn’t she be glad, because wouldn’t that make leaving Heartlandia easier?

  “Good afternoon, ladies.” Leif’s familiar voice threw her out of the confused thoughts.

  She turned, saw the world’s most masculine man holding a… “Hey. What’s that?”

  He had a wicker basket in his hand and looked a little awkward. “Lunch. Want to join us, Desi?”

  The wise young woman backed off. “Oh, thanks, but I’ve got class in an hour. I’ll just grab something from the cafeteria first.”

  Marta noticed Leif didn’t try to persuade Desi otherwise and liked that he wanted to keep her for himself. As Marta finished what she was working on, Leif put the basket down and talked to Desi.

  “Lilly’s going to interview me a little later. Should I be scared?”

  Desi lifted her brows, her creamy light brown skin glowing in the sun and her chocolate-colored eyes looking playful. “You mean will she put you on the hot seat?”

  “Well, since you put it that way, yes.”

  “Let’s just say she has a knack for getting more information than you realize.”

  Marta sensed Leif needed backup, so she came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’ll protect you, baby.”

  He leaned into her embrace and she automatically relaxed just being near him. He twisted and put his free arm around her shoulders. “Then, I know I’m in good hands.”

  In a flash, their conversation had shifted from the interview to the moments they’d spent making love just that morning. Come to think of it, her hands had worked wonders on him. Waking in the early-morning light, finding each other, they’d brightened the outlook of the day from their bodies touching and tangling together. No wonder she’d been in such a great mood and had accomplished so much already this morning.

  Desi stood watching them for a few moments. A soft, knowing smile crossed her full lips. “I’m going to leave you two lovebirds to your lunch. Eric has signed up to help this afternoon. See you tomorrow, Marta.”

  “Thank you for organizing my crew,” Marta said, realizing she already considered Desi a good friend. “I couldn’t do this without you guys.”

  “No problem. Happy to do it. I’m learning so much.”

  Once Desi left, Leif kissed Marta soundly on the mouth, her open lips both an invitation and a promise for that night. He had that moony haze in his eyes she’d come to love whenever they ended their kisses, their ever-growing attraction buzzing between them. Who needed lunch? She did! She was pregnant and had an appetite like she’d never experienced before. It caused her stomach to growl at the mention of food.

  He laughed at the condemning sound. “Good thing I stopped by.”

  They set up lunch on the grass under a nearby tree not far from the mural so they could keep an eye on it. Unfortunately, it was also not far enough away from the noisy campus and the between-class crowds, but it would have to do.

  He’d brought carved-turkey sandwiches, obviously remembering her hesitation to eat deli meat while pregnant because of additives and the slim possibility of getting
salmonella. She’d been devouring books on pregnancy each night, and to her surprise, Leif seemed as interested as she was in accumulating the knowledge. He’d also brought pears, apples and blackberries, a carton of milk for her and iced tea for himself. Ravenous from a good morning’s work, she ate, thinking contented thoughts, sitting under the peekaboo sun with the man she adored and was constantly turned on by. Life was good.

  Perhaps too good.

  “You still gonna find me attractive when I’m fat?” she joked, taking a huge bite of sandwich and lightly punching his arm, then just as soon realizing she wouldn’t be around when she was really big.

  “I’m going to enjoy every minute of helping you get that way,” he said with a gleam in his eyes as he handed her the carton of milk.

  Oh, God, she could get used to this.

  Was he talking about the whole pregnancy or just for while she was here? Did she want to spoil a lovely lunch with a great guy asking about a technicality?

  She knew her home was in Sedona, and this was a job she’d been hired to do. It wasn’t forever. Hadn’t she been the one to lay down their rules for getting together—no strings, just for here and now? And that had seemed to be the final deciding factor for Leif. Everything they’d been enjoying together was icing on the cake, a lovely detour, but it couldn’t be permanent.

  She took another bite of her sandwich.

  Could it?

  *

  Desi hadn’t been kidding about Lilly. That afternoon, with minimal effort, the petite reporter managed to get Leif to open up about his mixed feelings on digging for treasure in sacred ground. He’d also explained his newly changed plans for going about the job with the intent of disturbing as little earth as possible.

  Having pinpointed the one area of concentrated heat with the thermography studies, he planned to use an industrial fiber-optic scope to get a visual of the area. All he’d need to do was drill a three-inch-wide hole sixty to seventy feet deep, fit PVC piping inside for guidance and insert the lit fiber-optic scope to examine the area in question up close. Having made sure of the exact location of the suspected treasure trunk, they’d dig up as little area as necessary to remove it. Or, if there wasn’t a buried trunk, they would only have disturbed a few inches diameter of soil—the depth, at the time of the interview, could only be approximated until he actually performed the task.