Her small Ford Focus was packed tightly and ready to head out. She had so much in it that Bonnie needed to use her mother’s Buick Verano to get her to the hospital. Rita refused to let her daughter call an ambulance.
By the time a doctor saw them in the Emergency Room, Bonnie had wormed the whole story out of her mother. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before? If you needed surgery, it should have been done. Not waiting like this.”
Rita continued to heave, no matter that she’d already emptied her stomach. “Who wants a doctor cutting on their bowel? And then they’ll tell me its cancer. I couldn’t face it.”
It wasn’t the time to rage at her mother. But how could such a strong woman show this amount of fear?
“Well, the doctor says it’s now or never.” The words brought back her late-night wedding ceremony, bringing a sad smile to Bonnie’s lips.
“I have to call JT. He’s expecting me soon.” At her mother’s weak nod, Bonnie left the curtained area that formed a room in the ER and made her way outside of the hospital.
Plopping down on a bench in the July sunshine, she pulled up her husband’s cell number and hit the dial button. He amazed her by answering on the second ring.
“Don’t tell me you’re not coming.” Even with the funny interference caused by something in the hospital, she could hear the tightness in his voice.
“It’s Mother. I can’t come right now.”
Softly spoken numbers sounded in her ear. When he reached ten, he spoke again. “What’s wrong with her?”
Bonnie explained about the blockage. “They’ll be doing surgery within the hour. After that, I need to be here at the hospital with her.”
When he said nothing, she weakly whined, “I wish you were with me. Holding me.”
A bitter laugh came through the phone. “Everything lined up so well. How could this happen?”
He didn’t wait for her response. Giving a sigh that sounded like it came up from deep within him he added, “Things are a mess at work, and I can’t get away.”
“It’s enough you want to.” She gripped the phone tightly. “I really miss you. This isn’t forever. I AM coming, you know. My car is packed as if it’s a sardine can, all ready to go.”
He gave a forced laugh. “Sardine can, huh? Well, that’s a good sign that you’re planning to stay.”
A hospital volunteer appeared at the door and called her name. Bonnie reluctantly ended their conversation. “I gotta go. But, know this. Distance has definitely made my heart grow fonder for you.”
Before she pushed the red button to end the call, JT’s words made it to her ear. “Aloha, my love.”
Epilogue
“I can’t believe this is happening now. I really wanted to be at the Oak Grove Sesquicentennial.” She wailed the words as JT threw her a worried look and drove faster.
“My mother can’t get away.” Her mother had rebounded well from the surgery last July. In fact, she hadn’t even needed cancer treatments.
“She’ll never come up. Not with being in charge of the food for the celebration.” This time she ended with a moan and not a wail.
JT’s look went from worry to anxious dread at her guttural moan. Letting out a whoosh, he used his best soothing tone as he encouraged her. “Hold on and don’t turn this into a white bag moment.”
She nodded, thinking about her wonderful, considerate husband. The man had to go and ruin the moment with his next words.
“Cross your legs or something, sweetheart. I don’t want that baby appearing here in the Explorer.”
“You and this blasted car.” She never got angry. This was so unlike her. It must be that transition phase they’d learned about in birthing class.
“Transition? Now?” Evidently, she spoke out lout because her husband squeaked out what she’d been thinking of a moment earlier. “I told you a midwife in Racine was a bad idea. She’s too far from our house.”
JT yelled into his Bluetooth, calling the midwife’s number. Conferring quickly, she advised him to head to their doctor’s office near their house and not try to make it to her.
By the time he pulled into the parking lot of the office, the doctor and her nurse already waited for them. There was only time after that to get a towel spread under Bonnie as the doctor stood in front of her with the SUV’s door wide open.
The woman’s no-nonsense voice urged, “Push now, Bonnie.”
A groan was followed by a short scream. JT watched his son arrive quickly.
“Well, that was easy.”
The nurse’s comment had JT’s knees buckling. “If that was easy, I’d hate to be around a rough delivery.”
The doctor handed the towel-wrapped baby to her nurse. “Amen to that. I’ve said it before and mean every word of it. I don’t think men belong in a delivery.”
That sounded wrong to him. JT didn’t argue, though. He was too grateful to the doctor to say anything.
As the stout nurse passed him, JT caught a look at his son’s red face and grinned stupidly. As if the tiny scrap of humanity embodied everything that was love.
Then he moved to the side of the doctor. There was enough room to reach around the woman and hold Bonnie’s hand.
“Thank you, sweetheart. He’s a fantastic baby.”
A tired sigh escaped her lips. “You won’t throw him back then.”
“Never. Before you know it, he’ll be dancing with my hula girl.” It was the start of their family.
No, not a start. Their family really began that warm July night when he saw his ornament come to life on a plywood platform.
“What are we going to call him? We never decided.”
She whispered past dry lips. “Spock? McCoy?”
How he loved this woman and her sense of humor! “Never. No more Star Trek names. How about August after Pa? We can call him Auggie instead of Gus.”
“August? How about August Elvis Kirkwood? We’ll call him AE for short.”
He groaned, loud and long. “I hope that’s only your dry sense of humor talking.”
Bonnie smiled and gripped his hand. JT raised her fingers to his lips. “I love you, you know, Hula Girl.”
“Right back at you, Captain.”
Leave a Review
The End
If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it if you would leave a review, as it helps me reach new readers and continue to write stories that appeal to you.
Tap here to leave a review.
Sneak Peek
Read the first chapter from Marisa’s other Ornamental Match Maker novel:
A Snowy Delivery for Christmas
Chapter 1
Christmas Cove, South Bristol, Maine, 1921
Delmar Peale wearily climbed the steps of the red-brick rooming house. He reached into his pocket for the key and then shook his sandy-brown head. Absolutely no one locked their doors during the day. What a thought! To actually lock your doors before dark! Del snorted at his nonsense before heading inside.
The rooming house was comfortable and affordable. Even so, it would never be home. Thoughts of the house across town gripped him with a twinge of grief. He must be tired, Del thought since the grief didn’t grip him with its usual sharpness.
Warmth surrounded him when he stepped into the foyer. While hanging his coat on the mirrored hall tree, a cheery voice called his name.
“Mr. Peale! My, but I am glad I caught you. It saves me climbing all those stairs to your set of rooms.” His apple-cheeked landlady seemed to appear out of nowhere, causing Del to inhale with surprise. He should be used to it by now. She and her husband moved with amazing speed and quiet, especially for older people.
The woman and her husband were short and round. They reminded Del of white-haired elves. Jolly was the best word to describe both of their personalities. When they laughed, it seemed their entire body became involved in the merriment. Just now, Mrs. Klaussen’s eyes twinkled, but her face wore a serious expression.
“Good afternoon,
Mrs. Klaussen. What can I do for you?” Weary from a ten-hour shift at the factory, he didn’t want to make small talk. Fatigue wouldn’t stop him from being polite to this delightful elf-woman.
The landlady looked at him speculatively. “It’s Saturday, Mr. Peale. Did you volunteer to work another weekend shift at the cannery?” Clicking her teeth, she shook her head. “You aren’t doing yourself any favors that way. Something has to change, my dear. Remember that, won’t you? It has to change.”
Her words, spoken with motherly concern, baffled him. He was supposed to remember that he had to make changes? If he ever wanted a life that involved more than working, eating, and sleeping, well, he would do something differently. But, remember that he has to make changes? That sounded absolutely batty to him. Batty or not, an image of his fellow border, Josephine Withers, flitted into his mind. Lovely, composed Josephine.
When he stayed silent, the white-haired woman reached up to pat his hand as she sighed. “Never mind about that right now. Mr. Klaus and…” The woman broke off and started again. “That is, Mr. Klaussen and I will be gone through the holiday. Since it’s already two days until Christmas, we need to leave tonight. We’ll be back a few days after the holiday. After all, we’ll want to return to Maine where it’s warm.” He nodded even while he thought her talk about Maine being warm was one of the oddest things he’d heard in a while.
With a happy lilt to her voice, the woman continued, “Be sure you don’t use the fireplace in your sitting room. I had the chimney checked today and learned how dangerous it would be for you to light a fire in there.”
“Yes, Mrs. Klaussen. I understand and hope you enjoy your Christmas holiday.” He turned to move to the stairs, longing for his comfortable chair upstairs.
“What are your plans for the holiday?” Her question brought to mind images of Christmas past. Of Gloria and Jimmy along with his parents sitting at the dining room table.
He shook his head to clear his mind and answered Mrs. Klaussen. “No plans, ma’am. Just going to stay here on my own.”
“Hmm. That’s what I thought. Everything will work out fine, then.” She giggled and her merriment made him wonder about her for a moment. She didn’t look crazy. Instead, the woman had the look of someone with a secret.
He raised an eyebrow questioningly and she stifled the giggle. Sparkles seemed to surround her hands as the women held out a package to him. “Never mind, for now, Mr. Peale. You will need this package tonight.”
Where had the gift come from? He was certain her hands had been empty before he turned toward the stairs. Had fatigue caused him to imagine the shimmer in the air? Mrs. Klaussen must have stirred up dust when she reached for the package, he reasoned to himself.
The box was wrapped in lovely red-foil paper with a silver ribbon tied around it. A large bow finished off the festive look. “Thank you for the gift. I didn’t expect you to…”
She interrupted him with a slash of her hand. “Now, none of that. This is something you will need. Keep it in your icebox, mind you. It has to be kept cold until the surprise happens.”
Very little that the woman said today made sense. “Until the surprise happens?” In a coaxing voice, he repeated her words, hoping she would give him more details.
“You’ll know when it’s the right moment. Wait until then. It’ll be more fun. And remember, don’t use the fireplace. It will ruin everything if you do.” She wagged a finger at him as she said those last words.
Like a boy standing before his teacher, he obediently nodded, a lock of brown bobbing against his forehead. “Yes, I’ll remember and follow what you said.”
“Well, it will be fine then. You’ll have a happy Christmas.” She beamed at him. Del thought, not for the first time, that with her red dress and short, round frame, the woman looked like Santa’s wife. Her husband’s round belly and long white beard helped create that illusion, as well.
While he stood musing about silly things, the woman had disappeared. He’d been staring at the package and imagining silly things about his landlady and her husband so that he hadn’t even seen her leave. That was just one more sign that he needed the days off of work that he’d arranged for this week.
Climbing the steep stairs, he thought of the shorter stairway in his house across town. There, the stairs had a landing half-way up so a body could stop to rest if needed. He went weeks without thinking about the home he had refused to live in after Gloria’s death. Why did the place keep coming to mind today?
On the second floor, he paused before going into his sitting-room to look up the last flight of stairs that led to the attic room. Was Miss Withers home? Increasingly, he looked for opportunities to catch a glimpse of her but refused to allow his attraction for the spinster to go beyond the occasional greeting. He’d already had a family and didn’t want to begin again.
He rented the entire second floor. Though it should have been four bedrooms, he’d transformed one room as a small kitchen of sorts. Heading for that door, he opened it and walked to the small icebox. Placing Mrs. Klaussen’s gift inside, he turned to the hotplate and set the kettle over the burner after lighting it.
He’d have a cup of tea and a few cookies while he settled into his rocker and read the paper. That was his routine. Night after night without fail, he followed the same pattern as a clockwork toy. Wind him up and watch him perform a motion again and again.
Del knew life had become monotonous. Leaving the kitchen, he stepped out into the hallway and glanced at the stairs that led up to Miss Withers’ room. Perhaps she might—
No, best leave the door on anything between them closed tight.
The warm summer air tickled her cheeks as she strolled across the yard on the arm of her handsome beau. Thank goodness for her large wire-framed hat. The sun blazed at its hottest for the day and warmed her black hair even with the hat. With its wide, lacy brim, she had to tip back her head to smile up at Edward.
His mother’s garden party was something to which she wouldn’t normally have been invited. Not without Edward’s persuasion. His family was higher in social prominence than hers. When she’d received the embossed invitation, Josephine Withers knew her dreams were coming true. It meant Edward intended to—
“Miss Withers, can I go on now?” The small, bearded girl, costumed as one of the shepherds, waited for permission before she entered the stage.
With a play in progress, how had she slipped into memories of that long-ago summer? Smiling awkwardly at the troop of shepherds, she waved a hand to indicate they should go on stage.
Each year, she volunteered as a director for her church’s nativity play. That, along with teaching Sunday school and her job at Farley’s School for the Fine Families, gave her contact with children and brought joy to her life.
The curtain fell on her shepherds and the angel who’d come to announce tidings of great joy. As they moved past her--exiting from the wrong side of the stage no matter how many times she’d told the group of seven-year-olds to leave by the other side--twelve-year-old Minnie Perkins approached. The pink, curly-headed baby in the girl’s arms caused Josephine’s own to ache.
She never held babies. In fact, she avoided them because of this longing. If someone asked her what she craved in her heart of hearts, Josephine would have to say it was a husband and a baby. Already thirty, the possibilities of that happening for her were slim.
Gesturing for Minnie to enter, the girl who played Mary carried the dark-haired baby on stage and placed her in the manger. The audience never cared if the baby was a boy or girl. They simply expected a real baby. One year, Josephine substituted a doll since no one in the church had an infant the right age. After the play, she’d lost count of the number of people who told her, “It just wasn’t the same with a toy baby Jesus.”
Three little wisemen stared up at her. Oh dear! She’d been woolgathering again. Mary and Joseph stared toward her in the wings, waiting for the wisemen to bring them wooden boxes. Giving the actors a smile of apolo
gy, she hurried them on stage for their big moment.
Later, following enthusiastic thanks from parents and other congregation members, she slipped on her ankle-high Jersey cloth boots and secured the buckles. At eighty-five cents, they’d been the best she could afford when her previous pair were irreparable. That pair had been a remnant of days as the cossetted daughter of a financially secure family. They’d been made of leather and had fur lining to keep her feet warm. The felt inside her new boots was a sad replacement for that warm fur.
Stepping outside, she clutched the fur lapels of her dark blue velvet coat, trying to escape the cold wind. It had been silly to forgo her scarf just because it looked out of place with the coat. The matching velvet hat did little to warm her head and ears. She needed to remember that style was for people who could afford a car. A person like her, someone who walked everywhere, needed to wrap up warmly against the bitter cold that blew in off of the Damariscotta River.
A lifelong Maine resident, she’d lived on the island for three years. When Edward was killed at Ypres in 1918, hope of life with her fiancé vanished. The Spanish flu killed her parents the next year.
He’d leaned out the train window that summer day and gripped her hand. “I will be back. The war won’t last long after we get there.” As the train steamed away, their entwined fingers parted. He grinned at her and waved, happy to be leaving her for the glory of rescuing Europe.
He'd come back, as promised. Just not alive.
Candles in windows of houses she passed reminded her that Christmas was almost here. She needed to move past her dark thoughts. Purposefully, she thought over the evening’s play. The smiles she’d seen that night would be her Christmas joy.
She hurried along the dark street to the rooming house. By this time, the front door would be locked. Mr. Klaussen was careful that way. What a sweet couple! With their rosy cheeks and snow-white hair, the short couple made the perfect picture of grandparents.
Aloha My Love: Christmas in July Page 6
