“What a sweet story, so did you go out with him again?”
“A few times, when his buddy was sick.”
“Oh.” She kissed his mouth softly. “Well, boyfriend, I’m enjoying this conversation and wish we could continue—but I really should be on my way. It’s after eight and I want to get back before Meg wonders what I’m up to.”
“Would it matter if she did?”
“To me it would. Once I have my own place it won’t be an issue.”
“Okay. I had forgotten what I was missing, but you so kindly reminded me again.” He gave her rump a little pinch which only made her laugh.
“So kindly?” she snorted. “You can do better than that.”
“Expertly?” His foot wrapped around hers.
“Ugh! That’s worse.”
“How about—your passion and enthusiasm evokes some fond memories.”
“Fond memories? Of who?” She pursed her mouth and gave him a stern look.
He laughed. “I should say it got me back in the saddle again—and I’m grateful for it. How’s that?”
“Better. We can stick to that. And I like your saddle. Very much.”
“You have mighty fine stirrups, ma’am.”
She smacked his arm and skedaddled to the edge of the bed. “On that note, I really need to leave.” She slipped on her undies then fastened her bra. “By the way. I love your new bedding. It’s just the right fit.”
His eyes twinkled. “You can say that again.”
When she was fully dressed, she leaned over to kiss him.
He put his hand around her neck and deepened the kiss. When she finally broke away her heart was pounding. He was so darn sweet. Unlike Rick. Unlike any man she could remember.
He appreciates me like no one else has!
“Wait up.” He tossed off the covers. “I’ll walk you home.”
“You don’t have to.” He was warm and cozy, and there was no point in both of them going out. “It’s only a few blocks. I’m used to being out alone at nights. I worked the night shift from time to time. And now I keep pepper spray in my purse. Besides—we’re in Heaven, nothing bad happens here.”
“I don’t want to see you alone on the streets. It’s not safe. Not even in Heaven. And my mom raised me better than that.” He had his jeans on and tossed on his sweater. Then he helped her into her parka and zipped it up to her chin. Smiling down at her, he kissed her nose.
“All right. But I’m an independent woman. All grown up and everything.”
“I’m sure you are, but a gentleman always sees a lady to her door.” Grabbing his overcoat and keys, they left his apartment and walked briskly in the cold. A sliver of a moon guided their passage, and when they hit Main Street, they saw several groups of people leaving restaurants and stores on the sounds of Christmas music, and laughter.
“It’s so pretty here,” she murmured, mentally comparing this small town atmosphere to the City of Brotherly Love.
“Even prettier now,” he said with a meaningful look.
“Have you always been a romantic?” His life had been so lonely, for so long. She thought of him as a young, troubled teenager, losing his dad, his friends, and her heart ached for that boy—and bled for the man.
“Don’t believe I’ve ever been called that before.”
“Well, you are. You treat women—at least me—like something special.”
“Don’t all men?” He tucked her hand into his pocket.
“Hell no.” Her breath blew out in little white puffs, and she shook her head. “I’m not saying that most men are not nice to women, but it’s like they expect women to be grateful or something. They take women as their natural due. At least that’s how I see it.”
“In what way?” he asked.
“Like, hey, lucky you, you get to go out with me. That kind of thing.”
His steps slowed as he gave her a sharp glance. “That’s just wrong. Any guy who treated a woman like you that way, well, he’s damn crazy.”
“I think I like you, Mick Johnson.”
“After an hour in my bed, I hope so.”
From the corner she could see her sister’s house and when they reached it he turned her to face him. “I’ve had the best time I can remember in forever,” he said. “Thank you, and I hope you’ll want to see me again.”
“I think it’s quite likely,” she told him, tilting her head so she could look into his eyes. It was important to her that he understood that she cared about him.
“Good.” His tension eased. “How about tomorrow?”
She laughed. “I would give you a call but you don’t have a phone.”
His mouth curved in a smile. “For once I wish I did.” He shuffled his feet, and touched her arm. “I want to know how you make out securing a loan. If you’re not too busy I could buy you dinner?”
She didn’t want him spending his money on her. He had a great many things he could buy to make his own life more comfortable. “What time do you usually get home from work?”
“Depends. I could make sure I’m home by five.”
“Do that and I’ll swing by. Can’t promise dinner, though. Meghan will probably be expecting me and I don’t want her getting ideas about us.”
He lifted his head and she could see his expression from the streetlight. He looked disappointed, perhaps hurt even. “I don’t mind if she does.”
“Mick…you know this is awkward for me. I’m carrying another man’s child. It’s not the proper thing to be doing, going out with you. Especially sleeping with you. Even though I enjoyed it as much as you. How would it look?”
“Looks fine to me. Why should either one of us care what people think? The guy left you and went back to his wife. He was a jerk.”
“True. Still doesn’t excuse my jumping in bed with you.”
“We are mature adults and can do as we please. But I won’t push you. It’s your choice.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” His eyes twinkled. “Both in my bed and out of it.” He gave her a little tug and she fell into his arms. Lifting her chin he gave her a lingering kiss outside Meghan’s home. “Good night, Sarah.”
“Thanks for walking me back.” She smiled and waved her fingers as she reached the door.
He headed off, and Sarah sighed. She didn’t know what she was going to do with him. She liked him a lot, but he wasn’t like other guys. He wouldn’t know how to handle a casual relationship.
And going deeper, she would be afraid to hurt him. Breaking it off now would be harsh, cruel, a setback that might cause him to retreat back inside himself and not come out again. Besides, she’d miss him too much if she stopped seeing him now.
Sarah wished she could speak to Meghan about this—she was a counselor and would know better than she did—but Meg didn’t even know about the baby. This was a problem that she alone had to resolve. Getting Mick involved might have been a mistake, and yet it didn’t feel like one. It felt kind of wonderful.
Entering the house, she found her sister and Byron sitting on the sofa in front of the fire. Meg looked up as she entered and said with a teasing grin, “So, she returns.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Sarah hoped to mask her blush with the warmth of the fire.
“Oh, nothing. Byron was telling me that you and Mick seemed a little cozy at the bar tonight, that’s all.”
Sarah shot Byron a look. “We’re becoming friends. That’s what you both wanted, right?”
Byron snickered. “By the way Mick was looking at you, I’d say he’s got it bad.”
“You make “it” sound like the flu.” Sarah removed her coat and gloves and hung them in the hallway. Returning to the living room, she decided to change the subject. “Hey, Byron, did you tell Meg about the apartment I’m interested in?”
“He did tell me,” her sister said, turning around on the sofa to face her. “We’re so excited for you. And it’ll be great to have you living so close.”
; Byron nodded. “We’re both happy to co-sign for you if need be.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary, but if it is, thank you very much. I’ll go to the bank tomorrow and see what they can do.” Sarah put her hands next to the fire, enjoying the warmth after the chilly walk. “I’m super excited. I know I’m going to love it here.”
“And does that have anything to do with a certain someone, a war hero perhaps?”
Meg’s voice was teasing, but Sarah didn’t want to talk about her mixed-up feelings for Mick. She couldn’t explain them to herself, let alone anyone else. But whatever they were, she needed to tamper them down and not get carried away like she had with Rick. His friendship was important, and if she decided to keep her baby, she had a feeling that Mick would want to be involved. She would want him to, and so sleeping with him now was not a good idea. The worst, in fact.
“No. I have too much going on—like getting a job, an apartment, my life together. We’re just friendly, that’s all.”
“So what did you two friends get up to tonight, after you left the bar?”
“He took me to his apartment and we talked for a while.” Sarah had her back to the fire and spoke to Meg and Byron both. “It’s really dreary. Much smaller than what you had, just one small room with a bed, a chair and a dresser. I wish he could get a better job and a nicer place to live.”
“So do we, but he’s made huge strides this year, and is gaining some confidence. I hope he can learn to forgive himself for the things he had no control over.”
“Yeah. So do I.”
“Which reminds me, I got into Dad’s journal a little more, and I’m so proud of him. Some of the stories are really upsetting, heartbreaking really, and yet fascinating at the same time. I’m so glad you brought that box here.” Meg joined her by the fire to give her a hug.
“Thanks, Meg. I’m glad you see it that way. I hope it’ll help me understand Mick better as well.” She faked a yawn. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll turn in. Had a big day, and I want to get an early start tomorrow.”
“Sure. No problem.” Meg gave her a playful smile. “Happy dreams.”
Sarah went to bed and for the first time since the breakup with Rick, she felt hopeful again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The following day Sarah walked into town. It was such a pretty morning, the sun was shining, and another inch or two of snow had fallen, coating the pavement and the trees with a layer of vanilla frosting.
She popped into Dunkin’ Donuts and asked for a coffee and a healthy veggie egg white on whole wheat flat bread.
Sarah was waiting for her order when a young family entered. The couple had two toddlers, and another baby that looked ready to make an appearance soon. They were laughing happily and as they stepped into the line beside her, she noticed how the father stood behind his pregnant wife and wrapped his arms around her, cupping the baby.
It was so sweet she was surprised to find herself tear up, and then she felt a sharp pain in her stomach. Like her baby had given her a sharp kick and was fighting for his or hers own life.
It was probably indigestion, or God willing, her period! She clutched at her stomach and ran for the bathroom. In the privacy of the stall she checked for bloodstains, and was deflated when there was none.
She dabbed cold water on her forehead and her cheeks, trying to get her breathing under control. What had caused the sharp pain in her abdomen? The baby was too young to kick. Maybe something was terribly wrong!
She sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly. If something was wrong it would be the answers to her prayers. And yet it saddened her a little. Why, she wasn’t sure. Probably sentimental because of the young pregnant wife with her doting husband and toddlers. That was all. She’d get over it soon, and once the abortion was done, she’d feel right as rain. Abortion. Why did that sound like a dirty word? She’d always been pro-choice. Had that changed?
No! No! No! When women are pregnant they got all emotional, and cry all the time. It’s hormonal, not a change of heart!
She washed her hands before returning to the counter and picking up her breakfast. She kept the coffee, but dumped the egg white sandwich in the bin, no longer having any stomach for it. The egg reminded her of an embryo, and she didn’t need the reminder.
When the coffee was finished she walked out the door, heading to the local bank that was a block from the police station at the far end of the street. She entered the large institution, finding the bank nearly empty—only a couple of people were being helped by the tellers behind a long counter.
A woman seated at a desk near the entrance asked if she could be of assistance.
“I’m here about a loan.”
“One sec.” She held up a finger. “I’ll give Frank Giffin a heads-up, then you can go right in.” The woman spoke for all of thirty seconds, and then nodded at her. “He’s ready for you now.”
Sarah looked toward a glassed-in office and saw a man rise from his chair and beckon her forward. “Thank you.”
She marched over to the door and shook his hand. He looked to be in his late forties, with a round face, a receding hair line, a gray suit and a wide smile. “Good morning,” she said. “I’m Sarah Shaunnessy.”
“Frank Giffin. Please take a seat.”
She sat opposite his desk and removed the gray wool scarf from around her neck, opening the front of her red wool coat. “I’m here about a loan. I’m hoping to buy an apartment, but don’t have the required down payment.”
“I see.” He sat back in his chair and templed his fingers on his chest. “What could we use as collateral?”
“Not much, I’m afraid,” she gave a disparaging laugh. “But I do have a fifty thousand annuity, does that help?”
“Well, you see, an annuity is held by an insurance company, not a brokerage, and to withdraw money early will mean you’ll have heavy penalties to pay.” He rubbed his reading glasses with a soft cloth before putting them on. “Both from the insurance company, usually around ten percent, and also from the IRS. I’m sure we can find a better option for you.”
“Oh, no.” She leaned forward, knowing she shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up. But she had. “I really want this place, but I don’t want anyone to have to co-sign for me.”
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves. First please give me the spelling of your last name and home address.” His hands started flying across the keyboard as she answered his questions.
“I’ll need to know your job, your salary, how much money you can put down and whether you have any other collateral.”
“I have a car, but I have monthly payments and owe around four thousand.” He didn’t comment, just typed in the information, including make and year of the vehicle.
“I quit my job two weeks ago, but I’m an ER nurse and was making around seventy thousand a year.”
“Based on that we might be able to offer you a mortgage and use the house as collateral, but we will need to do a credit report and check your credit standing. Most home buyers, if they have an excellent credit rating, will qualify for a mortgage, even if you only have a small down payment.” He rested his hands on his desks. “Hopefully, we will be able to extend you the money you need and you’ll be able to buy the house of your dreams. You’re going to buy in Heaven?”
“Yes. My sister lives here. I was working in Philadelphia for the past eight years, but needed a change.”
“It would be easier to obtain a loan if you were still working or have another job you’re starting soon.” He was silent for a moment, assessing her. “This could be a problem but we’ll see if we can work around it. I get a good feeling from you.”
She handed over her bank account information and bank statements, and he took photo copies of it and her driver license before returning them.
“Of course there will be closing costs, etcetera, so you’ll need to have money set aside for that. Have you figured out your debt-to-income ratio to be certain that you’re not o
ver extending yourself? If we don’t believe you can afford the home, it’s doubtful the bank will approve.”
She shook her head. “No.”
He handed her a brochure. “Here’s some reading material while you’re waiting to hear from us.” He eyed her over the glasses. “The fact you’re not working could be problematic but if your credit rating is high we might still extend a loan. Good luck to you.”
“This doesn’t sound too positive,” she said. “Perhaps I’m getting in way over my head. I should probably just rent.”
“Well, if you were my daughter, I’d tell you to stay home for another year, put as much money aside as possible and buy rather than rent. Especially if you think you’re going to remain in Heaven a while.”
His advice would be good for a daughter, but she was not in that situation. She needed a place of her own, and as soon as possible. “I’m pretty sure I will, but no guarantees, right?”
“None in life, I’m afraid,” he said with a hint of a smile. “So, do you have the specs on the apartment you want to buy?”
She opened her hobo bag and took out the sheet the realtor had given her. “Toni Malone also sold my sister and her husband Byron their home, only six months ago. She seems to think that I could afford it.”
“I know Toni. She’s sharp. I doubt that she’d send you here if she wasn’t pretty sure you’d qualify.”
“Thank you.” She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath, until she released it slowly. “Do you think it’s advisable for me to put an offer in, or should I wait to hear if I’m cleared for the loan?”
“You could have Toni draw up some papers with a contingency clause on the approval for the mortgage. The owners may prefer to wait, or they might be willing to sign it as stated.” He stood up, as she did. “No guarantees.”
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