Building a Surprise Family

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Building a Surprise Family Page 17

by Anna J. Stewart


  “Of the baby. Cheyenne said I should share it with someone and, well, other than Leah, I don’t really know—”

  “I am absolutely interested.” He wiped his hands on a dish towel and plucked the small manila envelope out of her fingers. He felt his breath catch as he pulled out the two grainy black-and-white sonograms.

  “See, there’s an arm and...” She peered closer. “Nope. Still not getting it.”

  “I am.” His heart swelled. “Arm, arm, leg and foot. Looks like someone’s camera shy. Did you find out if it’s a girl or boy?”

  “I don’t want to know.”

  “Oh.” He looked a bit disappointed, but in the next instant he shifted and held the photo up to her stomach. Lancelot, having been ignored long enough, came over and pushed his muzzle between them to get his own look. “From where I’m standing, it’s a perfect match,” Ozzy announced. “All three of you.”

  “Ozzy.” She shook her head. “You really don’t have to...”

  “To what?” He asked when she went quiet, “Care? Is it really so hard to believe that I do?”

  She shrugged and glanced down. “This is complicated. And you being here, doing all this, watching out for me, it’s too much. You have a life, Ozzy. What are you doing in mine?”

  It was a good question. One he’d asked himself frequently since he’d met her. He’d spent most of his life longing for someone he felt truly comfortable with, someone he could create a life with. For so long that had felt out of reach, partly because he hadn’t even tried reaching for it. But he’d since overcompensated and turned over every stone and found no one who fit. But Jo did. He couldn’t figure it out. He didn’t really want to, either. He just wanted to go for it, for once in his life, and take the chance.

  “I’m here because it’s where I want to be,” he said finally. “Not because I think you need me, but because...” He set the photo on the counter, careful not to crinkle the edges. “Because I think maybe you might want me.” Ozzy reached out, caught her hands in his and tugged her toward him. Lancelot heaved a sigh and backed up.

  “Kissing you yesterday, for me, it was like everything I’d been waiting for fell into place.” He lifted a hand to her face, stroked her cheek. “You’re amazing, Jo. You’re stunning and fun and challenging. I like watching you and listening to you and talking with you. Did I mention I enjoy challenging you?”

  “You might have. You really know how to say all the right things.” Even as she said it, he could see the doubt swimming in her eyes. “We’re so impractical a match, Oz. I mean, I’m older than you for one thing. And not by a little.”

  “What does that even matter?”

  “It just does.”

  “Not to me. And I don’t care what other people might think.”

  “That’s not true—you do care,” she countered and hit a nerve. “The changes you’ve made in your life, the man you’ve become, it’s partially because you want people to see beneath the shell. I’m simply another shell to hide behind.” She pushed away from him. “I’m further along in life than you are. I know who I am. I’m set, Ozzy. I know what I want and where I’m going. And where I’m going is away from here. I live on wheels, not to mention I come with a serious attachment.”

  “Kidlet’s a bonus,” Ozzy said with a grin. “You’re acting as if I didn’t know you were pregnant from the start. No offense, but it was hard not to notice.”

  She twisted her mouth. “Ha ha.”

  But she was struggling with where this conversation was going, and his pushing her into something that distracted her wasn’t going to get him anywhere but kicked completely out of her life.

  “Give us a few weeks. Isn’t it worth maybe seeing if there’s a chance this works?”

  “Despite my obvious dubious history with men?” Jo said in a somewhat strangled voice. “I’ve barely scratched the surface on me and Greg. How can you want to—”

  “You’ll tell me when you’re ready,” he said easily as he grabbed onto the hope she offered. The hope he needed.

  The oven timer dinged. Neither of them moved. They stood there, in her kitchen, a foot away from one another, and waited.

  “Fine, all right. Whatever.” She tossed up her hands as if she’d surrendered. “We’ll see where this goes.”

  “Hear that, Lancelot?” Ozzy crouched down and held out his hand. Lancelot dropped his paw into Ozzy’s and Ozzy swore the dog winked at him. “We’re gonna give this a shot.”

  He heard Jo mutter under her breath about “not knowing what he was getting into” as she went over to the oven, but she was wrong.

  Ozzy knew exactly what he was getting into. And he was already halfway there.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  HOW WAS IT, Jo wondered as she stared up at the community center ceiling, that some women carried pregnancy as effortlessly and gracefully as a prima ballerina balancing on tiptoe and she felt like an elephant on ice skates?

  She also wondered how she was going to get up off the floor and resume her regular schedule. Maybe listening to her fellow mommies-to-be collecting their yoga mats and belongings would inspire her to try to move.

  She heard the clack of canine claws on the floor a moment before a cold nose nuzzled her cheek. Lancelot dropped onto his belly, rested his face on her shoulder and let out an encouraging whine. He’d waited patiently by the door, leash looped around a nearby chair for the class to finish.

  Jo lifted her hand to pet him, reveling in the unconditional love she could feel coming from the animal. She couldn’t easily recall what her life had been like without this whacky, lovable dog. Whatever might happen with Ozzy from here on out, she’d never be able to thank him enough for bringing Lancelot into her world.

  Her body ached, but in a good way and, as she flattened her hands on either side of her stomach, she could feel the baby shifting as if to tell her she’d done well. Jo took a long, deep breath, closed her eyes and tried to cling to the relaxed mindset Cheyenne’s yoga class had put her into.

  Something hard poked into her arm, as if she was a stuffed turkey being tested for doneness. When she opened her eyes, she looked up into a group of old, wrinkled, curious faces. She chuckled at the sight of some of the Cocoon Club peering down at her.

  “You still alive down there?” Delilah, a former town council member with a penchant for glamour and glitz, blinked perfectly outlined eyes at her.

  “I’m alive,” Jo confirmed and pushed herself up on her elbows. Lancelot whimpered and shifted aside. “Just pondering the effort it’s going to take to get up.”

  “I remember when I was pregnant with my first.” Myra, known for her teased orange hair and take-no-prisoners attitude nodded in understanding. “Didn’t think I’d ever move right again.” She grabbed hold of Harvey’s arm and did a butt-shaking boogie. “But it all came back.”

  Jo laughed, appreciating the encouragement.

  “You going to be down there for much longer?” Delilah, tall, slim, and looking as if she’d stepped off a 1950’s film set, glanced around the room. “We’ve got a class to set up for.”

  “Give me a sec. Oh, hey, Alethea. Great.” Jo waved the food truck chef over. “Give me a hand? I might topple one of them over.”

  Alethea grinned and abandoned her task of setting out folding chairs to assist Jo.

  “I doubt I’ll be able to do even those simple stretches in a couple of months.” Though Jo had to admit that despite her reluctance to attend the yoga class to begin with, she felt good, inside and out, and, well, calmer.

  “You never know,” Alethea joked. “Abby swore by these classes when she was pregnant with David. Cheyenne might just have you doing backflips by then.”

  “Never going to happen.” Jo collected her mat and bag, slipped Lancelot’s leash over her hand. “What kind of class are you guys taking?” She asked the elderly group as they made the
ir way around a group of teenage students setting up long tables and arranging chairs.

  “Vlogging 101,” Myra announced. “We’re thinking about starting a YouTube channel.”

  Jo stared wide eyed at Alethea, who only shrugged her shoulders and grinned some more.

  “We’ve got loads of life experience to share,” Harvey added. “Now that we’re guest lecturing at the high school again, we thought we’d branch out. Lots of history among us on all sorts of topics. I was a Marine, you know.”

  “And we’ve run out of people to talk to in town,” Myra finished. “We’re going to take the Internet by storm!”

  “Maybe we’ll even be featured on one of those special segment stories on the news,” Delilah added, pushing a short strand of silver hair behind her ear. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

  “We have to be a success first,” Myra stated. “Which means we have to know what we’re doing. Harvey, let’s get that laptop of yours set up.” She moved off on the cane she’d used to poke Jo.

  “They’re so much fun,” Alethea whispered as the group organized themselves. “When they aren’t wreaking havoc on the town, that is.”

  Affection welled up inside Jo. Her grandfather had never acted old. He’d rarely admitted to even being old, but he’d worried, as the years passed, that the perception of him, of what he was capable of, would decline. Had he lived, he’d have fit right in with this spirited group of seniors.

  And no doubt he’d have had a ball.

  “Are you taking the class, too?” Jo asked Alethea as they walked toward the door, Lancelot in the lead.

  “No. I was only dropping off leftover food from the truck. Holly’s dad, Jake Campbell, he runs the place, has volunteers who will deliver meals to seniors who can’t get out and about, both here and in Durante, the next town over.”

  “That’s a nice system.”

  “Gives me extra cooking practice, too. And it’s win, win since Jason hates throwing food out.”

  The community center, from Jo’s understanding, was an expanded version of the original building that the town had quickly outgrown. Both buildings were situated close to the beach, which Jo personally appreciated as it allowed her a leisurely walk post-yoga class. Of course, it didn’t cross her mind that her walks tended to coincide with Ozzy’s swimming sessions as he trained for his water rescue certification test.

  “If you don’t have anything else going on, come by Flutterby Dreams for dinner,” Alethea said with a hint of nerves in her voice.

  “Okay.” Jo glanced at her, curious. “Any particular reason why?”

  “I’m filling in for Jason. First time on my own. I mean, I’ll have our kitchen staff, but this is the first time the menu’s been all mine.” She twisted her hands together as if she couldn’t keep them still. “I could use a few friendly, understanding customers. Besides, I owe you for all the time you’ve spent teaching me about business plans and budgets.”

  “You don’t owe me anything. I’ve enjoyed it.” It had been nice to make another solid friend in town. In fact, Jo was beginning to add quite a few friends to her contact list. “Do I need a reservation?”

  “Nah, you’ve got an in.” Alethea smiled as they strolled the curving planked path that meandered around to the beach. “I’ll put you on the list. But would I be making that reservation for one or for two?”

  Before Jo could answer, she found her attention drawn to the shore. Lancelot whined and, despite sitting beside her, was clearly eager to be rid of his leash.

  There, in the distance, amidst the lapping waves and late morning sun, she caught sight of a dark head bobbing in and out of the water. Wet or dry, she’d recognize that hair anywhere.

  “Never mind,” Alethea said. “For two, it is.” She walked backward from Jo. “See you later!”

  “Yeah, bye.”

  Jo was about to head across the sand to where Ozzy would emerge from the ocean, but she spotted an older woman nearby, also watching the firefighter.

  She was a little shorter than average, but a little more round in size, and held what looked like an insulated food bag in her hand. It didn’t take Jo much more than seeing the woman’s affection-filled face to connect the dots. Ozzy’s mother.

  Impulse nearly had her approaching the woman until nerves and uncertainty stopped her cold. She’d only met Greg’s parents a few times and she hadn’t exactly gotten the warm and fuzzies.

  She didn’t know why, but the idea of meeting Ozzy’s parents felt like too large a step to take, especially since they were still determining exactly...whatever it was she and Ozzy had going on between them.

  Besides, what was it Ozzy had said about his mother? That she considered Jo a curiosity? Yeah, she wasn’t sure she could handle being micro-examined today.

  Lancelot looked back at her, a “what’s going on?” expression on his face, but all Jo could bring herself to do was watch as Mrs. Lakeman’s smile grew and lit up her eyes as Ozzy emerged from the ocean and approached his mom.

  He wore long board shorts the color of the ocean, blues and greens wrapping low around his waist and almost down to his knees. He was, Jo finally confirmed after her previous quick glimpse of skin, beautifully and perfectly toned and that spark in his eyes had been accentuated by what was surely frigid morning ocean water.

  Ozzy grabbed a towel off the sand, scrubbed his hair, then draped it around his neck, engrossed in the conversation he and his mother began.

  She didn’t want to intrude. That was what she told herself as she nudged Lancelot away before Ozzy noticed them. She could meet his parents another time.

  Maybe when she didn’t feel quite so insecure about what the future held. Or...maybe she’ll have packed up her home and have gone before she had to confront the opportunity again. “Come on, boy.” It was time to do what she did best and they left.

  She was grateful there was work waiting for her as she and Lancelot retraced their steps along the path. Maybe she’d have a quick power nap first. There hadn’t been any further “accidents” or mishaps or weird in-the-middle-of-the-night sounds at the site, although Jo had found other reasons to not sleep. Hence her added gratitude for the yoga classes. She even felt confident enough in the project’s progress that she could take a day off, too. She’d ask Jed to notify her if anything came up. Out of sight didn’t always mean out of mind, and Jo was rarely far from work mode.

  Her walk took her through town and on to the marina, where seagulls cawed in the air and the wind rustled raised sails.

  With the sun streaming from a cloudless sky and the tide a gentle ripple against the shore, she dropped her bag and walking shoes onto the sand, longing for the days she, too, could simply drop down and relax. Instead, she stood there, strategizing how to do it, feet braced apart, hands on her hips. She arched her back, lifted her face to the sun.

  Something cold and damp fell onto her bare feet. She looked down and there was Lancelot standing in front of her, tongue lolling, tail wagging as he nudged the stick closer to her.

  “You heard Cheyenne say bending over was considered exercise, didn’t you?” Jo accused the dog. “Fine. Just give me a second.” She did better than she anticipated and straightened back up with relative ease. “Well, what do you know?” She chucked the stick out into the ocean and Lancelot leaped into action. It was, she thought as he bounded back to her, as close to a perfect moment as she could remember.

  They resumed their walk. Jo kept half an eye on the time. She had a date to meet Ozzy at the diner at noon, but before that, she wanted to do a little exploring. Her wanderings took her the length of the beach and up the path to the harbor marina. A picturesque area that looked as if it had come out of a storybook.

  “Okay, boy, come here.” Jo sat on a bench at the marina’s entrance and slid her sand-caked feet into her shoes. When she had Lancelot’s leash clipped in place, she removed he
r sweatshirt and wadded it up in her bag.

  Overhead, a colorful bird swooped in and around the smattering of boats. The collection of houseboats caught her off guard. She wouldn’t have expected so many, all rather inviting, from an elegant two-story gray-painted vessel to a smaller wood-paneled version that looked like the ones she’d seen in Seattle.

  A flap of wings had her sitting back on the bench and Lancelot straining at his leash. “Easy there, boy,” Jo murmured and stroked the dog’s head. “It’s just here to say hi.” She tilted her head toward the bright green-and-red parrot, who appeared as curious about them as Lancelot seemed to be about it. Was Lancelot thinking of trying to replace his dragon? “Hello there.”

  “Hello there,” the bird squawked. “Drop and give me twenty.”

  “Oh.” Jo frowned. “Maybe you aren’t so friendly after all. Sorry, bird. No can do.” It seemed even the bird thought she needed exercise.

  “Let’s get physical!” The bird trilled. “Guaca-mooooooleeee!”

  A female voice said, “Duchess, go home.”

  “Oh, that’s all right.” Jo turned to the voice as she laughed. “She’s so cute.”

  “She is, the first ten times she says it.” The woman who approached had dark, expressive eyes and thick brown hair that tumbled around her shoulders. She wore bright yellow capris and a matching white-and-yellow sleeveless sweater that accentuated a figure Jo found herself envying. “I’m Sienna Fairchild. You must be Jo.”

  “I must be.” She’d gotten used to the introduction process of this small town. “Early congratulations. I hear you’re the bride-to-be.” Ozzy had mentioned the upcoming wedding between Sienna and Monty Bettencourt on more than one occasion, no doubt hinting he expected her to go with him.

  “That’s me. Second time’s the charm,” she added with a teasing grin. “Inside joke. This time I’m getting it right. Mind if I join you?”

  “Sure.” More than happy for the company, she scooted over. “This is Lancelot, by the way. He’s harmless.” Perhaps too harmless for the guard-dog role he’d been assigned.

 

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