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

by Krista Phillips

  Elizabeth was right.

  “Why don’t you get dressed? I’ll let Dr. Kerr know that we’re not prepared to undergo any diagnostic testing.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, his own tears falling into her silvery hair. “W–we will trust God, no matter what.”

  Elizabeth’s head moved up and down against the pillow. “We promised.”

  Chapter 8

  Standing in Brian’s almost empty office, Elizabeth stretched the packaging tape across the box, sealing the contents. Her skin felt a little like that tape. Twenty-three weeks pregnant, she hadn’t wanted to wait any longer to turn the study into the nursery. They needed a clean shell and were almost there. Just the desk and wingback chair still to go, but Brian would need Errol to help him move those.

  “I can’t believe this is finally the last of the books. They’ll be protected in there until I can unpack them for you again—soon as you get some shelves up in the garage.” Seemed like just yesterday she’d taken them all out of their boxes, after their move from Burkina Faso.

  Perched on a short ladder, Brian continued sanding the holes he’d filled in the wall.

  She picked up the cleaning rag lying on the desk and flung it in his direction. The soft cloth brushed against his ear then fell to the floor.

  He turned his head to look at her. “Huh? I’m sorry, love. Did you say something?”

  “I said I can’t believe this is the last of the books.” She patted the box. “You can take this to the garage.” Their car had already started sleeping outside, now that they’d turned the single garage into a makeshift study. But it was only until they were able to build on another room. Brian had already submitted plans to their local town council for the extension. Once the additional room was built, he could have his permanent study back, albeit in a new location. From today, this room would remain their child’s. A good thing, seeing as they were already over halfway through their pregnancy. They didn’t have that long to get the nursery into shape.

  Rubbing her aching back, Elizabeth stretched out her spine. Her swollen belly protruded even further.

  Her groan pulled Brian from the ladder. In a flash, he was at her side.

  “You need to take it easier. You’re overdoing things.” His fingers clasped her wrist, and he led her to the wingback chair in the corner.

  “But—”

  “No buts. You sit there and relax. I’ll make us a nice hot cup of tea.”

  No sense in arguing. And she was tired.

  Elizabeth sank onto the soft cushion. She brushed her hands over the velvety armrests. “I love this chair. It’ll be a good place to breastfeed our little one.” Her eyes flicked to Brian. “Assuming I can, of course.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be able to. And if you can’t, there’s always the bottle. So it’s yours, love. No point in it standing in the garage gathering dust until the new study is built, when there’s a perfectly good use for it right here in this room.” He picked up the box of books and strode toward the door. Pausing, he turned to her. “We could have it re-upholstered if you don’t like the fabric.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with the chair, Brian. I’d rather spend the money on things the baby will need. I have that gorgeous quilt my mother made for me a lifetime ago for a baby’s room. I can drape it over the chair to turn the dark stripes into something more suitable for a nursery.”

  When their church had heard about their miracle, they’d showered them with baby clothes, a high chair, car seat, pram, and a crib. Elizabeth had even been given maternity clothes, almost brand new. So there really wasn’t much more they needed. And just as well—they’d require every spare cent they had to extend their home.

  She pulled her cell phone from the side pocket of the maternity pants she wore and opened the pregnancy app JoAnn had downloaded and shown her how to use. She began to read. Wow. She couldn’t wait to show Brian how their baby had developed over the past week.

  Relaxing her head back, she closed her eyes and hummed a lullaby. Her palm smoothed over her belly.

  Something pushed against her hand. And then kicked. Elizabeth sucked in her breath. She’d felt the quickening movements of the baby for over six weeks now—soft butterfly-like flutters. And they’d grown in intensity. But this was unlike the taps she’d been feeling. She’d never felt anything quite like this.

  “Brian! Brian! Come quick!” She poked her stomach, and the baby kicked back at the intrusion. She smiled and jabbed again. Don’t go back to sleep before your daddy gets here.

  Brian’s footsteps pounded down the passage, and then he skidded through the doorway into the study, eyes wide, holding his chest. “What is it?”

  Elizabeth beckoned him with her hand. “Feel here. The baby kicked. Hard.”

  “Are you serious? As in scoring a goal kick?” Brian fell to his knees in front of Elizabeth. He lifted her T-shirt, exposing her ever-increasing belly, and stared.

  He could see nothing.

  He trailed his fingers across her skin.

  She trilled a soft laugh. “That tickles.”

  Still nothing.

  He rested his hand on her stomach, feeling here, there, and everywhere.

  “Here, let me try.” Elizabeth prodded the side of her abdomen, and the baby gave a hard kick.

  Brian stretched his mouth open wide and raised his brows. “Whaaat? That’s incredible. Does it hurt? We’ve got ourselves a regular little soccer or rugby player here.” He pressed his lips against her tummy. “Haven’t we, Daddy’s boy? When you come out into the world, I’m going to teach you all about those fun games. By the time you reach high school, you’ll be a pro.” He refused to let his mind wander to the dark places of the what-ifs. But after the 1-in-30 result, there were times it did. Today was not one of those days though. Today he would focus on their baby being healthy and normal. And with a kick like that, how could he be anything else?

  Elizabeth tipped her head back and released a loud laugh. “I think you’re going to have to wait a few years.”

  “I don’t have the luxury of time on my side, Elizabeth. I’m about forty years behind here, so I’m going to teach this little one as much as I can from the day he’s born.”

  “I see. And if he’s a she? Will you teach your daughter the same games?”

  Brian nodded and cleared his throat. “Of course. Soccer at least. Lots of girls can kick with the best of them. Not rugby though. That’s a man’s game. Too rough for a princess.”

  The baby’s foot thumped against Brian’s hand. “Has to be a boy. That was another strong kick, and he seems to object to being called princess.” He grinned. “I think we should paint this nursery blue. Now.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “You risk having to repaint it. Just because Abraham and Sarah had a boy, and Elizabeth and Zechariah, doesn’t mean we will too.”

  She swiped a finger over her cell phone, waking the screen. “Look at what I was reading before our little Bean’s kicking interrupted me.” She lifted the phone to read. “Bean has started to look more like a miniature newborn. He, or she, is the size of a mango, or eggplant. He, or she, is more than eleven inches long. The bones in her ears have hardened, and she can hear my voice. If we put on some music, she can feel me dance.” Elizabeth smiled. “I wonder what she’ll think now of the spinning class and ‘Radar Love’. Not that I’ll be able to attend much longer. I do more casual cycling than crazy spinning in that class these days.”

  “Hey…what’s all this sudden ‘she’ business?” Brian raised his fingers in air-quotes. “Don’t you mean he?”

  Elizabeth lifted her shoulders. “Time will tell.”

  “I guess it will. No escaping that.” Taking her hand, he squeezed lightly. “Well, I’ll be glad to have you both here on Wednesdays and Fridays.” Errol tended to keep him from his work more on the days when the women were out.

  “Me and JoAnn?” A smile tugged the corner of her mouth.

  Brian pushed to his feet. Resting his hands on the armrests
, he leaned forward and brushed his nose against hers. “No, silly. You and Bean.” He touched her tummy again. The rounded shape changed as their baby stretched its legs. At least, that’s what he thought was happening. “Will you look at that…?”

  Those beautiful blue eyes he’d fallen in love with a lifetime ago, lit up as she chuckled. “That felt so weird.”

  His laughter joined hers. “I never thought I’d say this, but I really wish Jordan and Shaun were here to video these first kicks.”

  Elizabeth handed her cell phone to him. “Here, why don’t you do the honors? We can give them the video clip on Friday. You never know, they might be able to use it.”

  “Fantastic idea, love. If our child has your looks and brains, he’s made for life.”

  Elizabeth cupped Brian’s cheeks. “Don’t do that,” she scolded softly.

  “Do what?”

  “Brian Dunham, you know what. Put yourself down. This baby would be made for life, too, if he had your looks and brains. You’re a handsome, clever, hardworking, and caring man, and our son will be proud to call you his dad.

  “Son? So can I go out and buy blue paint?”

  Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. “No, you may not. But I’ll tell you what you can do. You can paint the nursery whatever color you like when I’m in hospital recovering from giving birth. And, you can make us both a nice cup of tea. Now.”

  With a smile, Brian straightened. “I was just about to make good on my earlier offer.”

  Chapter 9

  Elizabeth couldn’t help staring at the Christmas decorations, the tree, and the lights. All night long. JoAnn had done up her house beautifully, and the table had been decorated with such elegance and style—until they’d destroyed her friend’s hard work as they tucked into the turkey, ham, and Christmas crackers. By the time they’d finished their meal, Elizabeth was certain she was expecting twins—one’s name being Yuletide Fare.

  She wiped her mouth with the paper serviette—red patterned with white snowflakes, Santa sleighs, and reindeer. Her hand slipped onto Brian’s leg, and she gave it a squeeze. “I guess we’ll need to take some lessons from JoAnn on how to decorate our home at Christmas time, won’t we, honey?”

  “You don’t celebrate at Christmas?” Jordan’s eyes widened. “But I thought you were Christians.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Oh, no, we celebrate Christmas, all right. It’s just we’ve never cared to make a big fuss of the occasion since there were no children in the house. Tiny tree, one or two decorations here and there. Nothing like this, though.” She waved her hand in the air, her gaze sweeping the room.

  “And when we were in rural Africa, we never wanted to make a show of Christmas,” Brian said. “The people we worked with in the villages…they had nothing. So we preferred to give them the one gift we could at Christmas.”

  Silence descended on the table as their friends waited for Brian to tell them what that gift was, but Elizabeth knew he’d say nothing more until they asked.

  Finally Errol could no longer stand the waiting. “And that gift was…?”

  “Why, Jesus, of course.” Brian’s eyes brightened with his answer, and Elizabeth loved watching his expression every time her husband used this tactic to ease into the Gospel message. “He’s what Christmas is all about. As wonderful as the meal, and the decorations, and all the presents are, they pale in comparison to the Son of God becoming human—a baby in a manger—to pay the price for our sins. All we need to do to have eternal life is accept God’s gift of His Son. Simple as that.”

  Errol harrumphed. “Does sound simple. Too simple. Where’s the catch?”

  Elizabeth’s grin stretched wide. She loved this part. “No catch.”

  Their neighbor gave her a skeptical frown, raising one brow. “My father always taught me that if something sounds too good to be true, it usually is.” Errol helped himself to another piece of ham, and then placed a dollop of cranberry jelly beside the slice of cold meat.

  “Ordinarily, I’d agree with you, my friend,” Brian said. “But not on this. Christmas, as it’s meant to be—the baby, the manger, the shepherds, the three kings, the star—is the real deal. And even though God’s grace is too good to be true, it is.”

  “Is what?” Jordan asked.

  Elizabeth laughed with delight. “True, of course.”

  Lifting her wineglass to her mouth, JoAnn sipped slowly.

  Elizabeth mimicked her with her cold drink.

  “So, all this new baby stuff…” JoAnn set her glass back down on the table and stared at Elizabeth. “Are you scared?”

  Was she?

  She shook her head. “If I’d had children of my own, I would’ve been caring for my grandchildren by now. What’s the difference? Babies are babies. And I’ve certainly had my fair share of looking after and caring for them during our time on the mission field.”

  JoAnn shifted her gaze from Elizabeth to her son. “Hmm, speaking of grandchildren, Jordan, when are you going to give me some of my own?”

  Jordan’s cheeks flushed. He shook his head and motioned for Shaun to stop filming.

  His cameraman laughed, ignoring him.

  “Haven’t met the right girl, Mom.”

  “Right girl?” Errol wiped his mouth and plunked the festive serviette onto his empty plate. “Do you even see any girls? You’re so consumed with your work.”

  If only she knew some nice, single ladies, but the ones from church were all too young and immature for someone like Jordan. Elizabeth’s breath hitched. “What about Dr. Kerr? She’s a great woman, professional, and you two seem to get along well every time we’ve had an appointment. And surprisingly, she’s single. Why don’t you ask her out on a date? Or just for coffee?”

  Jordan pursed his lips. “Already been out. Twice. Both times a total disaster.”

  JoAnn had just taken Errol’s empty plate. She set it down on top of her own. “When? Why?”

  Elizabeth did the same with her plate and Brian’s, passing them to JoAnn while they waited for Jordan to answer his mother.

  Jordan blew out a huff. His gaze flitted around the table. “On the first date,” he glanced up at Elizabeth, “weekend of your week fifteen appointment, I took Melanie—I mean, Dr. Kerr—out for dinner at a fancy restaurant in Umhlanga. The date was going well, until she got called to deliver a baby…just as our food arrived. Dashed out of there faster than a jackrabbit. I ended up giving very expensive leftovers to a beggar on the side of the road.”

  JoAnn reached for Jordan and laid her hand on his tanned arm. “Ah, poor baby.”

  Watching her friend with her son, an ache formed in Elizabeth’s chest. She rubbed her hand over her stomach. How many heartaches and disappointments would her son or daughter go through? She wanted to protect her child from them all.

  “And the second time?” JoAnn prompted.

  Jordan growled. “The second time, a month later…” He focused on Elizabeth again. “Appointment week twenty-three…I was the one called away. My producer knew Shaun and I were down for the weekend. Said he wouldn’t have called if he’d had another choice, but with no reporters available to cover a breaking news story for the network…” He shrugged. “So, instead of enjoying a second chance at a candle-lit dinner, I was doing live-coverage of a fire at a high-rise beachfront hotel instead.”

  “What? But I thought you only worked on Brian and Elizabeth’s story when you’re down here. Surely they can’t put you on other stories over the weekend and after hours? Especially as you’ve been busy every second weekend with Life Begins at Sixty.”

  JoAnn was certainly steamed up that Jordan was called away from his date.

  Would she feel the same way, too, one day when her child had to cope with the challenges that came along with his job? Or hers?

  “I’m so sorry, Jordan,” Elizabeth said. “I thought something was a little weird at the last two appointments. But hey, maybe third time lucky? Perhaps next time you could both leave your cell phones at home?”r />
  He shook his head. “I don’t know if I want to try a third time. Between her career and mine, we’re probably not a good match. Besides, there’s about six hundred kilometers separating us, which may as well be to the moon and back because neither one of us would be prepared to give up what we’ve worked so hard to establish.” Jordan handed his plate to his mother to add to the pile. He turned his attention back to Elizabeth and Brian. “You might want to teach your child from an early age about the dangers of going after someone they can’t have.”

  Brian tried to shove aside his disappointment at JoAnn changing the subject from Christ’s birth. If she hadn’t, he might’ve already been able to lead this entire family to the Lord. What better opportunity to spread the Gospel message than at Christmas? Instead, they were discussing Jordan’s love-life, which Jordan seemed as happy about as he was.

  “Perhaps it’s for the best, son.” JoAnn pinched his cheek. “Rather hot and bothered over an unexpected assignment and a hotel fire, than having some temptress turning up the heat.”

  Brian heaved a sigh, taking care to do so quietly. Oh, brother. No wonder the guy’s still single at thirty-two.

  Jordan pushed to his feet. “Mom! Melanie isn’t like that.” He grabbed the stacked plates from the table and headed toward the kitchen.

  JoAnn shrugged. “What did I say?”

  Never mind what she said—what would Elizabeth say? Would the calm of Christmas Eve evaporate with her response?

  No. He knew his wife. She would dig deep and find wise words with which to answer her friend.

  Elizabeth raised her gaze. “Jordan’s right, JoAnn. I can attest to the fact that my obstetrician is really a lovely woman. She’s witty, charming, highly educated, and beautiful. Such a pity that she and Jordan don’t seem to be able to have uninterrupted private time to get to know each other. My doctor’s appointments just won’t cut it for them.”

  Pride swelled inside Brian’s chest. Elizabeth was going to make a great mother. And, hopefully between the two of them, they’d be able to impart all the wisdom they had to their child before it was too late. He’d done the math—by the time their child was Jordan’s age, he would be ninety-seven. If the Lord spared him that long. Reality was he would likely never see his grandchildren born. But at least God was allowing him to see one child enter this world, and he and Elizabeth would make the most of every single second.