Love at First Laugh: Eight Romantic Novellas Filled with Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever After

by Krista Phillips

  “I’m certain they’ll do an ultrasound scan soon, and hopefully then we’ll know when to start painting the nursery.”

  “Painting? We’ll have to build one first.”

  Elizabeth trailed a finger up Brian’s arm. “Hmm, we could turn the study into one.”

  The study? His study?

  He loved that room.

  His baby would love it more.

  “That’s a brilliant idea, love.” Goodness knows how long it would take to get plans drawn up and passed to add another room onto their two-bedroomed cottage. Angst ground at the pit of his stomach as Dr. Cummings’s warnings from the day before pulsed in his mind. Huge risks. You could die. The baby could die. Complications. Blood pressure. Miscarriage. Stillbirth. Down syndrome.

  Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

  He palmed Elizabeth’s cheeks and searched her eyes. “Are you absolutely sure about this?”

  “If you’re asking if I’m scared…yes. So many things could go wrong. But, I could back out of this driveway tomorrow, honey, and have an accident on my way to town. I could have a heart attack on that stupid Spinning Bike next Wednesday.” Her lips parted into a smile. “Like I told Doctor Cummings, life and death and conception…they’re all in God’s hands. He has blessed us with the latter; let’s trust Him with that. Implicitly.”

  Brian sealed her request with a kiss. Didn’t matter how old they got, her lips would always be as sweet as honeycomb.

  Oh yes, he’d read the Song of Songs.

  Several times.

  He smiled at his wife and waggled his brows. “Then I guess we’re having a baby.”

  And later, he’d need to eat humble pie with their neighbors.

  Chapter 4

  In one hand, Brian balanced the chocolate cake he’d baked that afternoon while Elizabeth had slept. His other wrapped firmly around his wife’s waist, holding her steady as they walked up their driveway headed for JoAnn and Errol’s place. The cake could fall; she couldn’t.

  “Brian, honey, I don’t need a ‘Handle with Care’ sticker. I’m pregnant, not fragile.” Her laugh wafted on the early evening breeze.

  “It’s my duty as your husband to make sure you’re cared for. And even more so now that I have two of you to look after.” He pulled her into a side hug then tipped his face upward to sniff the air. Rain was on the way. He hadn’t realized that when they’d stepped outside into the dusk. He should’ve brought umbrellas, but how would he have carried them? They could always borrow from the neighbors if necessary.

  They turned onto the sidewalk.

  “I did some Googling this afternoon,” Elizabeth said.

  “Googling? And here I thought you were asleep.”

  “Oh, I did sleep. For quite some time. But then the electric mixer woke me, whizzing at high speed.”

  “Oops. Sorry, love. Must’ve been when I was making icing for the cake.”

  “That’s all right. I was starting to stir anyway.” She smiled then blew a kiss his way.

  Brian caught it with his lips and blew one right back.

  Pausing for a moment, they admired the Iceberg roses growing along the edge of their garden. Brian plucked a white bloom and handed it to Elizabeth.

  She brought it to her nose and sniffed. “Hmm.”

  “So, what were you googling?” He slipped his arm around her waist again.

  “The baby’s size. If I’m four weeks pregnant, then our baby is the size of a poppy seed. If I’m six weeks, then it’s as big as a lentil. Eight weeks, it would be like a kidney bean, and if I’m twelve weeks, which I somehow doubt, the baby would be the size of a lime.”

  He frowned. “How is it possible for something that small to make you as tired as you’ve been?”

  “Ha, I kept asking myself the same thing. But it has nothing to do with the dimensions of the baby; it has to do with the changing hormones in my body—hormones I didn’t realize I still had—particularly the increased progesterone levels.”

  Reaching out, Elizabeth swiped her finger lightly along the bottom edge of the cake. It came away with a thin layer of chocolate icing. She shoved it in her mouth. “Yum, that’s good. I think from now on you can bake the cakes in our house.”

  “Cake?” Brian laughed and gave her a squeeze. “This isn’t cake—it’s humble pie.”

  She puckered her lips into a perfect ‘O’.

  Brian hung his head and heaved a sigh. “I guess JoAnn was right, and I was wrong. For that, I need to apologize. Hence the cake…I mean humble pie.”

  “Well, it’s a really tasty humble pie.” Elizabeth grinned. “Pity they weren’t muffins, though.”

  He glanced at her and narrowed his gaze. “Why?”

  They turned into the Stansons’ driveway and strolled toward the front door. “Because then I could call you the Muffin Man. It sounds far more original than the Cake Man or the Pie Man.”

  “Only one problem, love.”

  “What’s that?” Elizabeth tipped her head to the side.

  “We don’t live on Drury Lane.”

  Their chuckles drifted to the canopy hanging overhead as Elizabeth pressed the doorbell.

  “Coming,” an unfamiliar, deep voice shouted.

  Brian leaned over to Elizabeth and whispered. “Love, let’s just ensure Errol and JoAnn keep this news low key. Okay?”

  The door swung open before she could answer.

  A good-looking young man with dark hair, striking blue eyes, and bearing a strong resemblance to JoAnn smiled at them. “Hi. You must be looking for my parents?” He seemed vaguely familiar. Perhaps he and Elizabeth had spotted the young gent on the beach. Was he perhaps one of the lifeguards? Brian glanced at the man’s arm holding the door and the biceps bulging beneath the black T-shirt hugging his body.

  “Yes. And you must be Jordan?” Elizabeth held out her hand. “I’m Elizabeth, and this is my husband, Brian. We live next door.”

  A grin brightened Jordan’s blue eyes. “Ah, the Dunhams.” His hand engulfed Elizabeth’s and he shook it before moving on to grasp Brian’s extended hand. “It’s nice to meet you. My mom and dad have told me so much about you.”

  Elizabeth released a nervous laugh. “Good things, I hope.”

  “Always. Come on in.” He gestured for them to step inside.

  “Thank you,” Brian and Elizabeth said simultaneously.

  “Let me take that from you, Mr. Dunham.” Jordan relieved Brian of the cake.

  “Thanks. And Brian is fine, young man. Mr. Dunham makes me sound old.”

  Jordan raised a brow just as JoAnn stepped into the hall.

  “Brian. Elizabeth. This is a pleasant surprise.” Her eyes fixed on Elizabeth. “Are you feeling better?”

  Elizabeth grinned. “Much.”

  JoAnn’s gaze shifted to the cake in her son’s hands. “Is that chocolate cake?” She ran her tongue between her lips. “You’ll have me working twice as hard at spinning class next week.”

  Elizabeth waved a hand and shook her head. “Don’t worry, JoAnn. It’s not chocolate cake, it’s humb—”

  “Homemade chocolate orange. Well, from a box actually. But despite the box, it’s still really tasty.” Brian eased past JoAnn and Jordan and that chocolate orange flavored apology. “Where’s Errol?” He couldn’t ask JoAnn’s forgiveness in front of her son. He’d have to do so later, when they were on their own.

  “Outside on the patio,” JoAnn said. “We were about to barbeque. Would you like to join us?”

  “We’d only planned on bringing the cake and giving you the news.” Elizabeth grinned, first at her friend, and then at Brian.

  “News?” JoAnn whisked the cake away from Jordan and set it down on the dining room table.

  Brian glanced toward the glass sliding door that led outside. “Perhaps we should wait until Errol joins us. Otherwise we just have to tell him all over again” And maybe Jordan would go to his room, or something, before then.

  “Errol,” JoAnn shouted. “Get insi
de, quick. Brian and Elizabeth have some news for us.” She whipped her head back to Elizabeth and sucked in a breath. “You’re going on a cruise?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Why would we do that? We only just moved here. I think I still have boxes I haven’t unpacked. Besides, we couldn’t afford something like that.”

  JoAnn chewed her bottom lip. “Silly guess.” She thought for a moment before her eyes brightened. “You won the lottery?”

  “Ha-ha. If we had, we wouldn’t be here,” Brian said. “We’d be on a cruise.”

  They all laughed together.

  The sliding door in the lounge opened, shutting again fast. “Gotta keep the smoke out.” Errol strode across the room toward them. “Care to share the joke?”

  The silver bracelets on JoAnn’s arm chinked as she waved his request away. “Never mind the joke. We want to hear the news. Elizabeth is beaming so wide it must be something big.”

  Brian shifted on his feet. Sharing news like this was awkward in front of a stranger. If only Jordan were five, he could be sent to his room to play, and they could comfortably break their news to their friends. “Maybe we should have cake first, before it spoils.”

  JoAnn let out a shriek. “You’re way too funny, Brian. Why don’t you tell us the news and we can use the cake to celebrate?”

  So much for humble pie.

  “I’m pregnant,” Elizabeth announced.

  “You’re what?” Jordan’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped, as did his eyes. Right to Elizabeth’s middle.

  Brian’s hands fisted at his sides. He forced his fingers to open. Extend love and grace is what God would want. And Elizabeth.

  JoAnn gasped before she flung her arms around Elizabeth’s neck and twirled her around in a happy dance. Their laughter and shrieks whizzed around the room.

  Jordan’s mouth still hung open by the time the women had finished their jig. “You’re pregnant?” he said again.

  “That’s what she said, Jordan. Didn’t you hear the first time?” JoAnn grabbed plates out of the sideboard, cake forks, and a long, shiny knife. “This definitely calls for some celebratory chocolate orange cake.”

  Celebratory? No, that wasn’t why he’d baked that stupid cake. He needed to apologize, Jordan or no Jordan.

  Brian shook his head and pointed at the cake. “Actually, that’s a hum—”

  “Humungous chocolate orange cake…that we need to finish before we leave.” Elizabeth turned to Brian and winked. “I still can’t believe my hubby baked that all by himself while I was resting. Again. At least now we know why I’ve been so tired.”

  “And nauseous. And throwing up oysters.” JoAnn sliced through the cake, raising her gaze to give Elizabeth a grin.

  “Just as well that little oyster went for a swim. According to my doctor, raw seafood is a big no-no. I believe God was protecting this little bean.” Elizabeth rubbed her tummy. She picked up a plate and forked a piece off with the tiny utensil. “Hopefully I won’t have more cravings like Wednesday’s. I’d much rather crave chocolatey things.”

  “Your hips won’t like it though.” JoAnn handed a plate to Brian, then Errol, and finally to Jordan.

  Jordan blew out a soft whistle as he looked at Elizabeth and Brian. “Pregnant? How did that happen?”

  JoAnn laughed as she took her son’s cheeks in her hands. “Well, you see, daddy Brian over there planted his seed into—”

  Jordan pulled away, his face scrunching. “Mother! Eww. I know where babies come from. I’m just intrigued that someone of Mrs. Dunham’s age,” his eyes flicked back to Elizabeth, “no disrespect, ma’am, could fall pregnant.”

  “Don’t worry, Jordan,” Elizabeth said. “Brian and I are asking ourselves the same thing. Reality hasn’t set in that this is real. For twenty long years we tried to fall pregnant, as you so aptly put it. Finally, we gave up and accepted the fact that God did not intend for us to have children of our own. To a degree, the children from the orphanages filled the gap.” She wiped the corner of her eyes. “And then suddenly, just after we retired, this happens. We don’t understand it, but we’re so grateful for God’s amazing gift.”

  “You’re having the child?” Jordan seemed genuinely surprised that they would even entertain such an idea.

  Brian stepped closer, fighting the urge to clench his jaw. “Of course we are, young man. Why wouldn’t we?”

  Jordan held up a hand and inched back. “Because there are complications and risks. Is it worth it?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes lit up with her grin. “Oh yes, it is. God’s got this.”

  Jordan set his plate down on the table then dug in his jeans pocket. He pulled out his wallet, opened it, and slid out two business cards. He handed one to Elizabeth and one to Brian.

  They both examined the cards. Jordan Stanson, Jordan’s Journeys. No wonder he looked familiar. Once or twice Brian and Elizabeth had watched the lifestyle and people TV program he anchored. And he vaguely remembered JoAnn mentioning that their son was a television celebrity.

  Jordan’s mouth curved into a white, inviting smile. “I would love to do a documentary on your…uh, situation.”

  JoAnn clapped her hands together. “What a wonderful idea.”

  So much for low key.

  Elizabeth bit her lip and glanced at Brian. Red crept from his neck toward his cheeks.

  “Absolutely not.” He’d answered a little too fast for someone who was supposed to be eating humble pie, although nobody else in this room knew that except for her. Just as well.

  Elizabeth linked her arm with Brian’s. She leaned in close to him and whispered. “Perhaps we should talk about this in private first before you just go saying no. This might not be what we want, but what if it’s what God wants?”

  “But, love, what happened to low ke—”

  “Would you excuse us for a moment, please?” She smiled at JoAnn, Errol, and Jordan before herding Brian toward the patio door. They stepped outside, sliding the door closed again behind them.

  Brian raised his hands. “Elizabeth Dunham, how can you possibly think there’s anything to discuss here?”

  She cupped his cheeks with the palms of her hands. “How could you think there isn’t? You know we never make decisions without first praying and seeking God’s face. Why should this be any different from the myriad of things we’ve brought to our Heavenly Father over our years together?”

  “Because…we don’t need, or want, cameras following us around for the next eight or nine months, having our private lives laid bare for the whole of South Africa to see. Or the world.” His hand thrashed in the air. “Who knows what networks a documentary like that could be sold to. People will be talking about us on Facebook and Twitter, photos up on Pinterest, too, like some circus freak show.” Brian clasped Elizabeth’s hands in his. “Our Savior came into this world with no pomp or ceremony. As did Isaac and John the Baptist, may I remind you? Why on earth would God want things to be different with our child?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I–I just get the feeling that maybe He does. What if our story is meant to encourage other childless couples?”

  “Or give them false hope,” Brian shot back.

  Elizabeth pulled her hands away. “So you think God can’t repeat this miracle for someone else? That we’re a one-off?” She thrust her hands to her hips. “Brian Dunham, shame on you!”

  He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “If our story could touch just one person’s life, give them the faith for that one miracle they’re trusting God for, then having the cameras and the fanfare and the lack of privacy would be worth it all. Besides, it might not be nearly as bad as you’re imagining it will be.”

  Brian huffed, and his nostrils flared. “So what do you want to do?”

  Elizabeth slid her arms around Brian’s neck. “What I want is for us to enjoy this celebration. We have waited so long for this day. Let’s not allow anything to spoil it. And then, I’d like us to spend tomorro
w praying about the matter of this documentary. We can give Jordan an answer on Sunday afternoon before he flies back to Johannesburg.”

  Chapter 5

  When it became apparent that the knocking Elizabeth heard was not part of her dream, she threw off the quilt she’d snuggled under and rolled out of bed. Still half-asleep, she stood at the side of the queen-sized bed and gazed down at the feather pillow beckoning to her. Maybe if she shoved her head under that soft rectangle, she wouldn’t hear the persistent rapping of fingers against their wooden front door. She could go back to sleep for another hour or two. And maybe in the meantime, whoever was there would go away.

  Thank heavens Brian hadn’t managed to install that doorbell yet.

  Speaking of… Where was her husband?

  Her fingers curled around the curtain’s edge, and she parted the fabric to peek out the window. In the far distance she could make out Brian’s form, standing in his favorite spot on the rocks. She’d probably see him down there more frequently now that his prayer list had grown. The pregnancy. The baby. Them as parents. The documentary of the whole journey…and that last item had him more wound up than the entire pregnancy, baby, and parenting-at-their-age thing. But after spending much time in prayer on Saturday, Brian had agreed that he, too, sensed God wanting them to do this documentary with Jordan—even if he wasn’t thrilled at the idea.

  The knock sounded again.

  Elizabeth glanced at the digital clock perched atop the nightstand on Brian’s side of the bed. Seven-thirty. Who on earth could be here at this time of the morning?

  She slid her feet into her slippers then grabbed her white toweling bathrobe from the edge of the bed. By the time she got to the front door, she’d managed to get her arms down the sleeves, and the belt tied in a bow. She unlocked the door and opened it.

  “Morning Mrs. D…Mrs. Preggy D.” Jordan flashed her a delighted grin and chuckled.

  Oh, that was witty. Just not this early in the morning. And not before her first cup of tea.

  Grace and love, Elizabeth.

  With only a slight effort, she returned his smile.