Giving Thanks For Baby

by Terri Reed

  She hurried inside and stomped off the snow from her shoes. She could hear lively music coming from the main play area. At the check-in gate, Cybil Ahearn greeted her. The older woman smiled, her gray eyes warm behind her thick glasses. “Aidan’s doing so well. And it was a nice surprise to meet your young man. We hadn’t met before.”

  Trista’s heart slammed against her chest wall, catapulting her breath out of her lungs. “What?”

  She pushed open the gate and rushed into the main playroom. Her gaze swept over the children and landed on her son. He sat on the floor playing with a train.

  Next to him sat Kevin.

  Trista locked gazes with Kevin and the hard gleam in his eyes sent rivulets of apprehension cascading over her skin. The moment Aidan spotted her, he let out a squeal and crawled toward her. She scooped him up and held him close to nuzzle his neck. Her heart pounded so hard she could barely breathe.

  Kevin rose and came to stand before her. He looked out of place in his dress clothes and slicked-back hair.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, keeping her voice low, but she couldn’t hide her agitation.

  “I came to see my son,” he declared clearly without regard to the day care workers who openly stared at them.

  What game was he playing? “You should have called and arranged a visit,” she fumed.

  “To see my own son?” He gave her a mocking smile. “I do appreciate that you had me down as the father in the paperwork. That was helpful.”

  Trista clenched her jaw tight. At the time she’d filled out the papers for Aidan to attend the day care, it hadn’t seemed right not to acknowledge Kevin as Aidan’s father. Now she wished she’d made a note stating he didn’t have visiting rights.

  Taking Aidan to the front entryway, she signed him out, then gathered his diaper bag and coat.

  “We need to talk,” Kevin stated as he followed her.

  She sat on the bench and put Aidan’s coat on. She glanced up at her ex-husband, noting the light of challenge in his eyes. Her stomach knotted tight. “Not here.”

  He nodded and grabbed a long trench coat from the wall rack before going outside. Trista breathed a sigh of relief which would be short-lived. She could see Kevin standing on the walkway.

  Emily Hage, the director of the center, came out of her office. She was tall, athletic and in her mid-thirties. “Trista, is everything okay?”

  “No,” Trista replied tightly. “If my ex-husband comes here again, please call me before allowing him access to Aidan.”

  Emily’s eyes widened. “I’m so sorry. Of course, we will. I had no idea. He showed his ID and he is listed on the paperwork.”

  Trista reined in her anger. “I know. I should have been clear in the beginning. I didn’t think we’d ever be in this situation. But we are now.”

  “Please forgive us. It won’t happen again,” Emily assured her.

  “We’ll see you tomorrow,” Trista said gently to let her know she wasn’t angry at her.

  Carrying Aidan on her hip and his diaper bag slung over her other shoulder, she went outside. Kevin smiled as she came to stand beside him.

  “Can I take my favorite girl out to eat?”

  After the day she’d had, spending time with Kevin was last on her list of possibilities. She shook her head. “Listen, Kevin. It’s been a really hard day.”

  “All the more reason for me to take you out,” he coaxed. “We still need to talk.”

  “I—”

  “Or I could just come to your apartment.”

  She had a feeling if she didn’t just get this over with, she’d end up with him stalking her until she listened to his baloney. She let out a resigned sigh. “We can go to the Starlight Diner. They’re kid-friendly,” she conceded. “You can follow us.”

  She went to her little sedan and noted that Kevin climbed in a new sports car. After securing Aidan in his seat, she drove to the Starlight.

  She parked and went in. Kevin joined them a moment later. The Starlight was a retro café in the fifties style, complete with a soda fountain and lots of nostalgic memorabilia filling the walls. Trista slid into a corner, bright blue vinyl upholstered booth beneath a poster of James Dean. A vintage tune from the old jukebox played in the background.

  Kevin slid in to the booth opposite her. By the expression on his face she could tell he found the place not to his taste. He picked up the menu, stared at it a moment with a pinched looked, and then put it down. “Isn’t there a real restaurant in this town?”

  Nothing that appealed to her had ever been good enough for him. “This is a kid-friendly place,” Trista murmured as she secured Aidan in the high chair beside her.

  The waitress came over. Trista ordered mac and cheese, French fries and milk with a straw. Kevin shook his head and the waitress left.

  Nerves stretched taut, Trista played with her napkin. “So, Kevin, what more is there to say?”

  “Plenty. I want you back.”

  Her gut tightened. Unbelievable. “We’ve gone over this.” She rubbed at her forehead. “I don’t trust you.”

  “I can earn your trust,” he assured her.

  Anger stirred hot and heavy. She’d tried that avenue before and he hadn’t lived up to his promises. Maybe the more direct approach would get through to him. “Kevin, let me put it baldly. I don’t love you anymore and I don’t want to reconcile. I want you out of my life.”

  His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. “Aidan is my son.”

  She swallowed past the constriction of apprehension clogging her throat. “You gave up custody.”

  He gave her a sly smile. “I’ve changed my mind.”

  Her hackles shot to the roof and her patience with him rapidly dissolved. She said tightly, “I am more than willing to give you visitation rights. I offered that in the beginning and you refused.”

  “How can you do this to me?” he stammered, his complexion mottled with anger. “You came from nothing and still I married you and gave you a son. How dare you not want me back!”

  Aware that his raised voice had attracted stares, she hissed, “Shh. Stop yelling.” She stared at him, flabbergasted he’d be so obtuse. “You’re the one who left, remember? You didn’t want me or our son. You stated in a court of law that you’d been unfaithful. And now you’re mad at me?”

  Visibly reining in his anger, Kevin gave her a tight smile. “You’ll regret this.”

  He slid out of the booth, then took an envelope from the inside pocket of his coat and laid it on the table. “I’ll see you in court.”

  Trista blinked as Kevin walked away. Court? She picked up the envelope, broke the seal and stared with horror at the document, her blood freezing in her veins.

  Unbelievable. She dropped the papers on the table.

  He was going to try to take custody of Aidan away from her.

  Scott sat at his kitchen table with his laptop in front of him. He entered the chat room at the Kingdom Room Web site, hoping to distract himself from his thoughts of Trista. She’d gone through so much today. First Kelly’s accident and then her mother’s fall.

  He was thankful he’d been able to be there for her as her friend and pastor. But when she’d allowed him to hold her, offering comfort and support, he hadn’t been acting as anything other than a man needing to protect and cherish a woman.

  Not a smart thing. He simply hadn’t been able to help himself.

  Scrolling through the many posts to check up on the topic of the day, he forced himself not to think about Trista. Instead, he entered into the discussion of holiday traditions and pretended she wasn’t on his mind.

  Chapter Ten

  In the middle of the night, unable to sleep, Trista logged on to the Kingdom Room chat room and found the discussion on holiday traditions fascinating. Since her family had never had much in the way of traditions, she was gathering lots of fun and interesting ideas to do with Aidan, who thankfully was now asleep in his crib.

  She’d had the hardest time pu
tting him down tonight. He’d been overstimulated with Kevin’s visit and then dinner out. And, she had to confess, she’d snuggled with him longer than normal.

  Just the mere thought of losing her baby sent panicked shivers through her system. Kevin wasn’t getting his way so he was throwing his version of a tantrum. One that could hurt Aidan. Her insides rolled and she fought off the nausea. She wanted to knock some sense into him, but then he’d probably have her arrested for assault.

  She couldn’t do anything tonight, but in the morning she’d call her lawyer and discuss the document Kevin had handed her. Though it took a lot of self-control to keep from calling Scott and crying on his shoulders. She’d done that enough for one day. She had no business getting emotionally attached to him.

  A post from Called2serve popped up.

  For the past few years I’ve helped serve food to the homeless. Then I go to my parents where everything is decorated to the hilt and there’s enough food to feed an army. Granted with three siblings and their families, we are a small army-One of the traditions my grandfather started and I always insist we continue is called the Thanksgiving beans. We have a miniature pot filled with gold and silver spray-painted kidney beans. The beans are spilled out in the middle of the table, then everyone grabs a bean. Then the little pot is passed around. Each person must say what they are thankful for and then drop their bean into the pot. We do this until all the beans fill the pot.

  Trista liked that idea and wrote it down on a piece of paper along with several other traditions she’d already noted, hating that she didn’t have anything worthwhile to share.

  Hi, all. I’m so grateful for all the wonderful traditions and holiday stories being shared here. I’m taking notes so that my child and I can start traditions of our own.

  Momof1

  Momof1

  I have a friend who has some great traditions in her family. I’ll ask her if I can share them with you. Have you joined any women’s groups where you live? I know several mothers with young children in the town I live in have joined a group called MOPS—Mothers of preschoolers. I bet you’d find lots of ideas through a group like that.

  Called2serve

  Called2serve

  Thanks for the suggestion. I’ll check into it. I noticed that the stores in my area are already decorating for Christmas with evergreen boughs and lights. It’s all very festive.

  Momof1

  Momof1

  It is festive. I love all the holiday shows that start playing after Thanksgiving. My favorite is the Peanuts Christmas. What is yours?

  Called2serve

  Called2serve

  My favorite is It’s a Wonderful Life with Jimmy Stewart and Miracle on 34th Street with Maureen O’Hara. There’s nothing like the classics.

  Momof1

  Momof1

  It’s a Wonderful Life is one of my faves, too. I especially like the scene where George and Mary are dancing the Charleston and the floor opens up beneath them. I laughed so hard when they fell in.

  Called2serve

  Called2serve

  That was funny, mainly because you could see it coming and couldn’t do anything to stop it.

  Momof1

  From the other room Aidan let out a cry. Trista quickly posted she needed to go and then turned off the computer before heading into Aidan’s room. He had pulled himself up and was standing at the railing.

  “Hey, big guy, it’s sleep time,” she cooed as she picked him up and then sat in the rocker. Some people would say she should let him work out going to sleep on his own, but having a childhood where her own cries were never answered made Trista loath to let her son cry himself to sleep.

  She never wanted him to doubt that she’d be there when he needed her. God willing. And Kevin didn’t succeed in taking him away from her. Her pulse pounded in her ears at the mere idea of not being with Aidan.

  As she gently rocked him, she tried to calm herself with thoughts about all the things she was thankful for; Aidan, Ross, Kelly and baby Cameron. She was thankful for her mother, something she’d never have thought possible.

  And she was thankful for Scott. For his friendship, his willingness to be there for her and his steady wisdom as a pastor.

  She could only pray that one day God would bring someone like Scott into her life for keeps. Because maybe with God in her life a happily-ever-after wasn’t impossible.

  Trista arrived at the library for Scott’s meeting with Lynda a little before noon. The cold dreary day matched her mood. She’d had a long talk with her lawyer. Per her lawyer’s advice, on her way to the library she’d purchased a journal to note all conversations with and actions taken by Kevin.

  Her next step was to contact his parents and see if they would like to see Aidan. She didn’t want to be accused of deliberately keeping the Hughes’s grandchild from them.

  Though the law was clear that Kevin would have to prove her an unfit mother before custody could be granted to him, this whole ordeal would prove to be an emotional roller coaster; Aidan’s well-being was at stake.

  Scott’s sensible two-door car pulled into the parking lot. He got out and came toward her, his blond all-American good looks very appealing. She could picture him on some tropical beach with a surfboard in hand. But today he was dressed for the cold with a heavy wool coat, dark trousers and serviceable yet stylish footwear.

  As he approached, his smile lifted some of her gloom.

  “Hi, there,” she said.

  “How are you today?”

  She didn’t want to dump any more of her problems on him, so she shrugged. “Okay. I just hope Lynda shows.”

  “Why don’t we wait inside for her?”

  With a nod, she preceded him inside. She hadn’t realized how cold she was until the warm air bit her skin and caused a tingling in her toes, fingers and nose. Scott helped her out of her parka and hung it on a rack. He followed her to the children’s department where she’d met Lynda before. They sat across from each other.

  “So how do you want to proceed?” Scott asked, his eyes searching her face.

  “I can tell her what legal options are available, but I think she needs to hear that God isn’t going to punish her. Which seems to be her greatest fear.”

  “Unfortunately, the church as a whole hasn’t done enough to bring the domestic abuse issue to light. It’s a problem too often ignored or minimized, and silence promotes the problem. I hope it’s okay that I discussed the issue with Reverend Fraser. I didn’t break confidentially by using names, but I needed his input.”

  “Hey, all the insight you can bring to the table is welcome,” Trista assured him, grateful for his forethought and preparation.

  “Here she is,” he murmured.

  Trista followed his gaze. Lynda walked hesitantly toward them. She had a scarf covering her head and her coat buttoned high. Her gaze darted to them and then skittered away as she veered off down an aisle. Trista started to rise to go after her, but Scott’s hand on her arm kept her in place.

  A few moments later, Lynda approached and sat next to Trista.

  “I’m glad to see you,” Trista said softly.

  Lynda gave her a shy smile then turned her troubled gaze to Scott. “Do you know?”

  There was kindness in his expression. “Yes. Trista has shared your story with me. I hope you know that I do not sit in judgment of you or your husband. I’m only here to help you and answer any questions that I can. I hope that I can alleviate any fears of God you might have.”

  Trista took Lynda’s hand. “We only want to make you and Logan safe.”

  “Thank you,” Lynda said. “I do appreciate your concern. I just don’t know what to do.” She looked beseechingly at Scott. “I made a vow before God. For better or for worse. How can I break that?”

  “First, you have to understand that we are all made in God’s image and possess equal worth to Him. You are no less loved or valued than anyone else. Do you believe that?”

  “I guess,” Lynda repli
ed.

  Trista nodded encouragingly, thinking how much she needed to hear Scott’s words, as well. She’d spent so many years feeling unloved and abandoned by God, but now she was hopeful that what Scott was saying was true for her, too.

  Scott leaned forward, his gaze intent on Lynda. “God never intended for marriage to give abuse license. Abuse is wrong in all its many forms. God’s word tells us that violence and oppression are not His ways. He hates those who take advantage of others and will deal harshly with them on judgment day.”

  “But what do I do until then?” Lynda questioned, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “You do what you need to do to keep you and Logan safe.”

  Lynda’s eyes widened. “So you think I should leave him.”

  Scott’s lips pressed together for a moment. “I can’t tell you that. Only you can make that decision.”

  Trista gritted her teeth, wishing he’d take a stand. The woman’s husband was abusing her, how could Scott not recommend she leave?

  “But I want to make clear that God doesn’t condone your husband’s behavior. Far from it,” Scott continued. “Colossians 3:19 clearly states that husbands are to love their wives and not deal harshly with them.”

  “But Ephesians also says that wives are to submit to their husbands,” Lynda countered.

  Scott shook his head slightly. “That is one of the most misunderstood concepts in the Bible. When the whole chapter is read and taken in its entirety as God’s plan, we see how we are to live our lives in all aspects of relationship. And starting with verse twenty-one, the passage describes mutual submission within the family. Wife to husband, husband to wife. Both to the Lord, first and foremost.”

  “This is all very confusing,” Lynda whispered.

  “Scott, I think one of Lynda’s fears is that she’ll be breaking her marriage vows if she does anything that results in her leaving.” To Lynda she said, “Is that correct?”