by Delia Latham
To her own surprise, she cleaned her plate, drained the big mug of coffee and poured it half full again. “Let me help you with clean-up, then we can move into the living room and visit a little.”
“What clean-up? Everything’s in the dishwasher except our plates. Give me yours and relax. I’ll join you in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” She shooed Norah away.
“All right, I’ll wait in—” Norah broke off and slapped a hand against her mouth. “I think I’m gonna—"
Shay stuck a bowl under her chin just in time.
* * * *
Numb and unmoving, Norah sat in the garage for a full ten minutes before going inside.
After a full week of throwing up everything she ate, she’d finally taken Shay’s insistent advice and visited her doctor. His diagnosis came quick and sure. “Congratulations, Mommy!”
Mommy?
She stumbled from the vehicle and into her kitchen, where she slumped onto a dining chair. “God, how am I supposed to be both mother and father to a child? I’m not sure I know how to be either.”
You can do anything, daughter, with Me as your Strength and your Strong Tower.
She blinked and sat up straight. A quick, startled glance around the room confirmed she was alone.
“Jesus?” A shiver traveled the length of her spine.
She’d felt His presence before, known He guided her path. But she’d never heard Him speak in a voice so close to audible.
I am with You always. I will never leave you, never forsake you.
Norah slid to her knees. By the time she arose, a smile shone through the tears on her face. Dylan was gone, but he’d left her the most precious gift…a little piece of himself. A child created by their love.
Filling the roles of both mommy and daddy wouldn’t be her first choice, but she’d do it. She could do anything through the One who gave her strength.
Trembling, she fumbled in her purse for her cellphone.
“Mama Shay, guess what?” She didn’t wait for a response. “You’re gonna be a grandma!”
“I wondered if you’d tell me right away or make me wait.” Shay’s joyous laughter warmed Norah’s heart. “Oh, sweetie, congratulations! I’m so excited! But we’ve got a lot to do, you know, before—”
“Wait. Hold up. You knew?”
“Norah, dear, a mother always knows these things. I suspected when you were so exhausted all the time. Then you started upchucking everything you put in your mouth, and that confirmed it. I’ve already been out looking at baby cribs.”
“Shay!”
“Oh, don’t be so touchy.” Shay burst into hearty laughter. “Now that you’re in on it, I’ll take you with me next time. Seriously, I thought you’d never figure it out—and sure ’nuff, you didn’t. If Dr. Dunwiddy hadn’t told you, I’m thinkin’ that little bundle of joy might have bundled himself right into your arms before you knew.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but why bother disputing facts? Instead, she offered a wry grin. “Nah. Never would’ve happened. You couldn’t have kept it to yourself much longer—I mean…this being your first grandchild and all.”
“Darn tootin’!” Shay heaved a happy sigh into the phone. “Honey, Dylan left you such an amazing treasure. I can almost see him smilin’ down on you right now.”
She swallowed. Hard. “I was thinking that same thing before I called you. He told me once that, should death ever rip us apart in this life, he’d keep on loving me in the next one. Since I firmly believe in eternity and a life with the Lord after death in this world, I choose to believe you’re right. Dylan knows we’re having a baby, and he’s passing out Heaven’s version of ‘It’s a boy!’ cigars.”
“What makes you think they don’t say ‘It’s a girl’?”
“Well, you said it yourself…a mama always knows these things.”
* * * *
“Woohoo!”
Customers could count on hearing either country music or southern gospel while dining at the Little Ponderosa. At the moment Norah told her boss she’d soon be a mommy, they were tapping toes under the tables to one of Nashville’s favorite country tunes. Hoss grabbed Norah and swung her into a flawless two-step. He danced her around the tables and across the room, letting out a loud “woohoo” every few steps.
They ended up behind the counter on the final note, as if he’d planned it that way. The music faded, and Hoss—wearing a huge, proud grin—rang the little bell that customers used to call for assistance if no employee stood ready to help.
“Hey, everybody! Guess who’s gonna be a Grandpa? Woohoo!”
Half the male customers raised their arms in the air and repeated Hoss’s shout. The women grinned and shook their heads, but they sent Norah big smiles and thumbs-ups.
She smiled and nodded, blinking back happy tears. One hand drifted to her still-flat tummy.
We’re gonna be okay, little guy. We’re gonna be just fine.
~ Chapter 8 ~
D
AYS AFTER DYLAN’S MEMORIAL SERVICE, his lawyer had tried to contact Norah. She hadn’t known her husband had a lawyer, and what did it matter now? She refused to meet with him for a reading of the will.
As if he’d been following the events of her life, he made contact again not quite a week after she learned she was pregnant. This time he showed up at her home, and because she’d traded shifts as a favor to another waitress, she was there when her doorbell rang.
Drying her hands on a dishtowel, she answered the door—and then wished she hadn’t. She rarely indulged in such careless behavior. Had she not had her mind on a tricky recipe in the kitchen, she’d have put the peephole to good use before simply swinging wide the entrance to her home.
But here she stood, staring into the face of a man she’d never seen in her life. He didn’t look dangerous, but according to everything she’d read or watched on television, neither had Ted Bundy—or any number of other serial killers.
“Yes? Can I help you?” She eased the door a little less wide open.
“Norah Bradley?”
“Yes.”
“Good to meet you, ma’am. I’m Allen Schneider.” He held out a hand, which she regarded warily, even as she closed the entrance by several inches.
Schneider seemed to take no offense. He smiled. “I tried to set up a meeting with you a few weeks ago, Mrs. Bradley. I’m your late husband’s lawyer. You really need to hear the contents of his will.”
Norah shook her head. “Why?”
“Because you’re mentioned in it.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t expected that, but then, she hadn’t anticipated a will at all. Weren’t they for rich people who needed to disburse their estates amongst family members? Dylan didn’t have an estate, did he? He’d spent his inheritance on this house.
Oh! “All right. I suppose we need to meet when his brother, Bob, can be with us.”
“No, ma’am. I said you’re mentioned in Dylan’s will. What I didn’t say is that you’re the sole heir. May I come in?”
Norah stared out the door. She didn’t plan to allow this man, no matter how friendly he seemed, or how pleasant he looked, into her home while she was alone.
“Please have a seat. We’ll talk out there. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
She closed the door and rushed to the kitchen, where she grabbed her cellphone and rang Shay. With her friend on speaker, Norah tore around the kitchen.
“I only have a moment, so listen up.” She turned off a couple of burners and whipped off her apron. “There’s a man on my porch who says he’s Dylan’s lawyer. I’m not letting him in the house.”
“What’s his name?”
“Uhm…” What was his name? “Snyder…Scheider…”
“Schneider? Allen Schneider?”
“Yes.” She filled two glasses with ice and grabbed a pitcher of sweet tea from the refrigerator. “I think that’s what he said.”
“Honey, you can trust Allen. He’s a good friend of Bob and Penny’s.”<
br />
“Oh. Well, anyway, I called so you’d know who to have arrested if you find my cold, dead body next time you drop by.”
Shay laughed out loud. “You are quite the pessimist these days. Mr. Schneider is a good man.”
“Uh-huh. I’m sure he is. But still.” Norah placed the two glasses and a few cookies on a tray. “Better safe than sorry, Mama Shay.”
“That’s true. I’m glad you called. Now get out there and see why Allen is at your place.”
“Yep. I’m out the door.” She hung up, laid the cellphone on the table and headed outside. Three steps away, she turned, retrieved the device and added it to the contents of the tray. Couldn’t hurt to have help available with the push of a single, memory-dial number.
The lawyer sat in one of the two rockers she and Dylan had chosen together, along with a matching side table. Norah set the tray on the table, blinking back an unexpected sting of tears. They’d enjoyed the sunset on these chairs only once before he returned to Afghanistan.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Schneider lifted one of the glasses and downed almost half its contents in one drink. “That’s mighty good on a day this warm.”
She nodded and sipped at her own sweet beverage.
“Nice place.” The man waved a large hand to indicate the property.
“Dylan bought it while he was home on leave.”
“Yes, I know. I’m very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Bradley.”
“Thank you.” She swallowed a hard knot in her throat and fixed her gaze on the tree line that started on the west end of the property and formed a large curve behind the house. Not far within that wooded area, Ruidoso Creek gurgled along a meandering path. She hadn’t visited the creek since Dylan left. The water sang of bittersweet memories—a song too poignant and personal for her to bear just yet.
Schneider set aside his drink and produced a folder from a briefcase Norah hadn’t noticed until that moment. “Dylan visited me shortly before he returned to duty. He left this letter, to be given to you only if he did not make it back from Afghanistan.” He held out a sealed envelope. Norah accepted it with trembling fingers.
A multi-page document came out of the folder next. “I’m sure you’re aware that Dylan paid for this place in full, using his inheritance from his father. What you may not know is that his military life insurance payout will cover the memorial service and burial expenses, with a generous amount remaining that will come to you. Anything not covered by that insurance will fall under a separate, non-military policy Dylan purchased.” A piercing gaze met Norah’s, seemed to dig deep. Too deep.
She squirmed and looked away.
“Norah—I’m sorry…Mrs. Bradley. Dylan came to me as a determined young man who’d met someone special and fallen deeply in love. He wanted to go back to Afghanistan knowing the love of his life wouldn’t have to worry about finances should something happen to him. He paid for this house, purchased the biggest life insurance policy he could, and…” He paused. “Dylan wanted you to get the education he knew you dreamed of. There’s a fund for that, as well.”
For a time, she couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. Barely managed to focus.
“Mrs. Bradley?”
“Norah. Please.” Her voice sounded flat, even to her.
“Norah, then. I take it Dylan didn’t reveal the full amount of his inheritance. All of the details are in these papers but let me say this—it wasn’t small, and he used almost every penny to make sure you had a home and a life free of financial worry.”
“I had…no idea. Mr. Bradley—Dylan’s father—lived so simply. I’d never in a million years have believed he was a wealthy man.”
“Austin Bradley was an old friend of mine. One of the best men I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. Yes, he lived simply. Always said he didn’t need much, but he never wanted his boys to have to struggle through life, trying to stay ahead in the financial maelstrom that is a fact of life in today’s world. Living as he did allowed him to save more for Bob and Dylan. But Austin was never anywhere close to destitute. He inherited his father’s large estate when he was a fairly young man.”
Norah shivered and wrapped both arms across her chest. “I can’t believe this!”
“Well, I’m not finished yet, so grab onto something.”
The lawyer probably meant the statement metaphorically. Nonetheless, Norah took hold of the arms of her chair and held on tight.
“He set up a separate trust for something that may surprise you. Actually, he added this the day before he left. Dropped into my office grinning on one side of his mouth and struggling not to fall apart on the other.” Schneider shook his head. “Never knew such a thing was possible. Anyway, Dylan said his leave time was over, and it was almost more than he could stand, knowing he wouldn’t see you again for another two years. The only thing keeping him going was…well, that boy said he had a ‘Spirit-nudge,’ and thought he might be leavin’ a little something behind for you.”
An electric tingle shot up Norah’s spine, and she sat straight up. “A baby, right?”
“Yes. Specifically, a son. Are you expecting, Norah?”
She stared clear through the lawyer. Said nothing. Saw nothing.
“Norah? Mrs. Bradley, are you all right?”
She blinked. “I’m—I don’t know. I’m stunned and a little overwhelmed, but…yes. I’m pregnant. Found out less than a week ago. Of course, I can’t verify the gender yet, but I know it’s a boy.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe Dylan told me in my dreams. Who knows?”
“Only God.” Schneider shook his head. “Sometimes He plumb takes my breath away. Anyway, your young soldier set up a trust for the baby’s education. It will continue to grow through the years, and by the time the child is ready for college…well, it won’t be a problem. At least, not where money is concerned.”
He shut his briefcase and stood. “You should be in good shape, Norah, but if you find you need anything at all, please contact me. I promised Dylan I’d make myself available to you.” He started down the steps and then turned. “Oh, I should mention this. You will receive an annual bill for property taxes. Bring it to me. Dylan left enough to take care of at least the next six to maybe eight years, unless property taxes take a mighty big jump. He entrusted that amount to my keeping. I’ll write a check for them as long as the money lasts.”
Norah stood, tears streaming down her cheeks, and rushed across the porch to hug the big man. And I was afraid to be alone with him less than an hour ago. “Thank you, Mr. Schneider. Thank you!”
He patted her shoulder. “You’re welcome. Now go on back inside. And Norah…you shouldn’t open your door unless you know who’s on the other side.”
The lawyer winked, strolled to his car and drove away.
She returned to her rocker and picked up the sealed envelope Dylan had left for her. A clean spreader knife lay on the tray she’d brought outside. Her fingers trembled as she slid the blade along the flap and removed a single sheet of paper.
My sweet, sweet Norah:
If you’re reading this, then I’m probably lying next to Dad and Mom in Gavilan Memorial Gardens. As I write, my heart breaks. I wanted to spend the rest of my life looking into those violet eyes of yours, my love. I wanted to wake up beside you every morning and drift off to sleep in your arms every night, for an entire lifetime of days and nights.
I guess God had other plans. It hurts to know you’ll be alone, and that tears may be streaming down your beautiful face as you read these words. But I’m also kind of curious to know what wonderful things await me in Heaven. If our loving Father would take me from you before we even get a chance to have a life together, I’m thinking they must be too wondrous for human minds to comprehend. When you’re sad, when you miss me (and I sure hope you do, at least for a little while), try to imagine what an amazing, indescribable life I must be living with Him. One thing for sure, no matter how wondrous it is, I’ll still be waiting for you to join me one day…a long, long time from no
w. You have a life to live before then.
Here’s what I want you to do, sweet Norah. Live your life. Raise our son (yes, I know about the baby) to love the Lord as much as we do. And someday, my gorgeous bride, I want you to love again. You deserve to have a home, a family. You deserve all the comforts a life can offer. Even more, you deserve joy in your heart.
I’ve arranged a bit of financial assistance to help with some of that. (I want you to know it was the greatest pleasure I’ve ever experienced, being able to return to duty knowing you’d be okay if I didn’t come back.) But some of the things you so richly deserve, my love, only you can make happen. I beg you, don’t spend your life being bitter over my death. Don’t turn your face from love when it finds you again…and it will. Embrace all the good things that come your way with a mind open to possibilities, and with a heart that listens for guidance from the One who loves you even more than I do. That’s hard for me to imagine, because I love you so much it boggles my mind.
And so I come to this. Not goodbye, my love. You’ll be in my heart until I breathe my last breath on this earth. And when my eyes open in Glory, and I get my first taste of heavenly air, you’ll still be there, wearing on your lips the beautiful smile that melts my heart, and in your eyes the overwhelming light of love that makes my soul sing the sweetest melody every time I look at you. I wish you could’ve heard it, but the song was soul-deep. I guess God intended our souls to be private. Some things, no matter how glorious, are meant for each of us alone.
Be brave, my love. Be happy. Be sure to tell my son I loved him even before he was born.
I don’t know how to stop. So I’ll just stop.
I love you now and forever.
Until the next life, with unending adoration,
Dylan
(Hey, what do you think of Donovan, if our son is a boy? If our son is a daughter, what do you think of Donovan? Naw, not really. Our son is a boy.)
Norah ran a finger over the silly winged-heart drawing. How many times had he sat doodling out this same kind of thing while they talked and laughed together? That he’d include one of his doodles in a letter like this one solidified the sincerity of his request that she move on…live…be happy.
