The Wedding Plan

by Melissa Shirley

As eloquent as ever, he said again, “Humph.” Her cheeks flushed, and he wanted to say something profound about God’s plans and life handing them gifts they never expected, but only one thing came to his mind. “How?”

  How? What kind of question was that? No wonder her eyes darkened, and she crossed her arms like a protective shield. “You’re a doctor. Didn’t they give the tab A and slot B talk in medical school?”

  “I didn’t mean how. I know how.” He’d actually gotten the tab a/slot b talk in high school. Way before medical school took it in a more clinical direction. “I meant, we used condoms, you get a shot.” He thought back. Searched his mind for a time they hadn’t been careful. The cabin. The shower. A couple nights at home when they’d been so desperate for each other they didn’t stop for a trip to the bedroom nightstand, and he hadn’t ever thought to leave them in the kitchen cabinet. He smiled. This was a one-thing-at-a-time kind of talk. First, he’d figure out how then move onto the holy shit part of the discussion—that was the part he could tell she was expecting. One thing at a time, he repeated silently. “Well, most of the time we used condoms.” She didn’t move, just stared at him with those wide, sad eyes and a grim frown. If that was surprise, he would eat his shoe. He’d bet his life it was unhappiness. And that hurt. “Nat…”

  “I haven’t decided anything yet, but…” She shoved her finger toward the clock and his gaze followed. Seven forty-nine. “Hadn’t you better get to work?”

  Work? Who cared about work? They were having a baby. “We should talk about this.”

  She shook her head and closed her eyes. “Just go. We can do this tonight.”

  If she thought he’d be able concentrate on Mrs. Miller’s bunions or Stanley Garta’s chronic flatulence, she had no idea who she’d married. She probably didn’t, but he’d show her.

  A baby.

  For the first time in his life, Jacob saw his future stretching out in front of him, like one of those happy movies where everyone just felt better about life as the credits rolled.

  * * *

  Okay. He’d fumbled the morning. Made a wreck of her news. And now she wasn’t taking his calls. He had a full waiting room—colds and flus, aches and pains all waiting to be diagnosed and treated—a nurse who’d watched him daydream about playing ball with his son and taking his daughter to her first father/daughter dance, and now all he could think of was getting to the flower shop, sending his wife bouquet after bouquet until she had no choice but to smile again. To be honest, he didn’t know if she liked flowers or what kind she liked if she did. Maybe jewelry was better. It didn’t matter, he had to do something to tell her he was happy about it. A baby.

  The day dragged on until finally, there was no one left to see. No more runny noses or in-grown toenails, no more ear infections or stomach bugs. He was alone in the office, not thinking, barely breathing. He needed to get home, see if Nat liked the hourly deliveries of flowers—roses, lilies, daisies, lilacs and forget-me-nots since he hadn’t known what she liked. But he couldn’t move. What if she wasn’t happy? What if she wanted to have an abortion? What if, at the end of their contract, she still wanted to leave?

  He was a doctor. He could do the fast math. Their arrangement would end right around the time the baby came. What would he do if she packed up and left with his baby? No. He wouldn’t let that happen. He would convince her to stay. No other option that floated through his mind—legal or otherwise—made any sense.

  Five-forty five. Earlier than usual, but not soon enough for him. He wanted to hold Nat, celebrate their baby and tell her he loved her, loved them both. That was what good husbands did, right?

  Yeah. All he needed was a quiet night with her to make her understand he wanted this. More than anything, he wanted to hold his family together. One quiet night. But as he pulled into the driveway…so much for that. Lucia’s Land Rover.

  Ryhan, Lanie, Lucia, and Nat all sitting on the front porch. Matt stood off in the grass. There were days he could forget about surfer boy. That morning he hadn’t noticed him at all, but now, in the presence of all Jacob’s hopes and daydreams, the guy stood out.

  Nat leaped off the porch and flung herself into his arms as if nothing in the world made her happier than seeing him. Oh, how he wished that was true. Still, he held on while she clung to him.

  “I haven’t told them anything,” she whispered.

  Instead of answering, and because he couldn’t stop himself, he kissed her, cupping her face with his palm. With every kiss, every touch, he loved her more, and now he would have a child also. This was his first kiss as a father, and he wanted it to last forever, held her closer, loved her more.

  She finally pulled back, smiled up at him. “We went to lunch today.” She slipped her fingers through his, and he gave her a squeeze.

  Lucia frowned. “Jacob, I need to speak with you privately.”

  Uh-oh. She stood and went inside, held the door, he supposed waiting for him to follow. When he stepped across the threshold, she shut the door then hugged him in one of those mama-bear hugs that he’d loved when he was a kid, that meant he’d done something to make her happy or proud. “I watched that girl order water at lunch, open a bottle of wine for all of us when we came back and pour hers into the hedges. Is there something you want to tell your grandmother?”

  She had that twinkle, the spark that said she knew already. And he grinned, but didn’t want to tell her if Nat wasn’t ready, if she hadn’t…decided…oh God, what would he do if she didn’t want to have the baby?

  Lucia stepped forward, took him by the shoulders. “She didn’t drink the wine, Jacob.” He nodded. If she didn’t care, wasn’t invested in their baby’s life, she would have drank. Right? “You look like you’re about to explode. Sit down.”

  “Okay.”

  “Darling…” she sat beside him and took his hand between hers.

  “We didn’t get to talk about it. I had to go to work.” He could have kicked himself, should have called and had his appointments canceled. No, instead, he’d left her here.

  Lucia shook her head. “Jacob, you are the most dear to my heart, but this isn’t a time for talk. This is a time when you pick up your wife, you carry her to your room and you show her how you feel.”

  Sex advice from his grandmother? Not bad advice, but still from his grandmother. “I don’t even know when she’s due or what she wants.”

  “That’s for pillow talk.”

  Heat tickled his skin. “How the hell, Grandma, am I supposed to…get that far, if I know that you know I’m…” He blew out a breath. “Getting that far?” Okay, so he was a ten year old unable to say the word sex with his grandmother staring at him so intently.

  In reward for his delicacy, she threw her head back and laughed. Perfect. “Jacob, I have known you have sex since that first time in the pool house with Sheila Pope. Even now you grin like the cat who ate the cream.” She laughed again. “Oh, look at me making the puns.” She squeezed his hand once more. “Now, I’ve been drinking today, and I can’t sacrifice my safety or the girls. Do you mind if I take your camera boy?”

  God, he loved this woman.

  * * *

  JACOB: I was so…happy isn’t a strong enough word. In my life, I never thought it would feel like this…really. There aren’t words. I mean, we didn’t know everything about each other, at that point, I didn’t even know her middle name, but I saw my life spreading out in front of me…the homework, t-ball games and bedtime stories. I saw it all with Nat right there beside me. … Yeah. It was like a gift I didn’t know I wanted.

  10

  Five cups of coffee. Who needed sleep, anyway? If this was his last night with Nat, he’d happily stay awake all night watching her.

  “Jacob.” He turned to his grandmother, trying to wipe the emotion off his face.

  “Grandma.”

  “Sweetheart, I know you’re angry…”

  He swallowed hard, saw the sadness in her face. “I’m not. I’m just trying to get through
this night.” He knew what was coming, was glad it was a few scenes down the road. At least he would have a few minutes to prepare.

  “Don’t lose her, Jacob.”

  Because she’d always been there for him, been the one who took the role of mother and father when his own parents had been uninterested in the job, he could forgive her almost anything. And he needed her now. That made it easier. “I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Maybe tell her?”

  “I shouldn’t have to tell her over and over again. I shouldn’t have to face all those doubts in her eyes every day.”

  Lucia ran her hand down his cheek, let it rest on his shoulder. “You are the smartest man I know, but sometimes being intellectual and being street-smart are not the same thing.” She sighed. “She didn’t come from an easy place, Jacob, where love is overflowing and happy endings don’t only happen in the bedroom.”

  Good Lord. She’d gotten bawdy in her old age. “Grandma! I don’t like talking about those kinds of happy endings with you.”

  “Oh, posh. Don’t be a prude. I had a life before I was your grandma.” Her smile fell away. “As someone who came from nothing, who never thought she would find love until I met your grandpa, I can tell you, it’s hard to remember all the things we need to remember about loving and being loved. Tell her before it’s too late.”

  * * *

  ELLEN QUINN: I had to hear through the grapevine that my daughter was having a baby. I was hurt, but when I saw them together, saw how happy he made her, I wanted to be a part of their lives. I knew they had what it takes to last a lifetime, and if I couldn’t find happiness for myself, I was sure glad my baby girl found it.

  * * *

  240 Days Earlier

  Who the hell would be knocking on the door at eight AM on a Sunday? Between her insatiable hunger for him and her four AM cravings for ice cream that meant middle of the night trips to Redford, Jacob had finally achieved walking dead status. And it wasn’t near as glamorous as the show made it look.

  He pulled on his pajama pants and stomped to the door, promising himself that if it wasn’t God or Lucia at the door, he would reward himself with the satisfaction of a good throttling to the visitor.

  He hadn’t bothered with a shirt, or real pants, or even a comb, but swung the door open anyway then stood back staring. A woman, the older version of Nat—same golden hair, same emerald eyes—leaned against the frame and smiled. “I would like to see my daughter.”

  He stood up straighter, blinked once—the resemblance—and stepped back. “Come in. Please.”

  She brushed her fingers along his chest as she walked past him. “You must be the rich doctor.”

  “I’m Jacob.” He held out his hand and waited. She stared him up and down—more down than up—and he dropped his arm back to his side. Did she just wink at him? “I’ll get Nat.”

  Shit. He forgot the crackers. Nat had to have crackers in the morning or she’d spend the next few hours locked in the bathroom. And the sounds that came out of there…No medical journal or class he’d ever taken mentioned those. He detoured back to the kitchen and caught up with Matt who handed him a plastic wrapped sleeve of saltines. He breathed deep—her mother was sitting on their couch and he’d answered the door in his boxers—before making it to sit beside Nat on the bed. “Nat. Wake up, baby.”

  She lifted the hand he had on her shoulder and dropped it back on his lap then shielded herself with the blanket. “Go away.”

  “Come on, Nat.”

  She flipped the comforter down and glared at him. “What do you want?”

  “Your mom is here.”

  The blanket muffled her voice, but he clearly heard, “Not funny.”

  “Oh, honey, he’s not laughing.” Nat’s mother—what was her name again—walked in to stand beside Jacob, pushed him out of the way, and took his seat. “Let me see my baby.”

  Nat closed one eye. “What are you doing here?”

  Her mother wobbled her head from one side to the other, pursed her lips and looked at Nat. “I lost the trailer.”

  “What happened to the money Karen’s been sending?”

  Jacob didn’t know all of the details, but when Nat moved in with him, her sister had begun sending money to their mother to pay her bills.

  “I lost it.”

  “Lost it, or gambled and drank it?” She took crackers from Jacob and nibbled on the corner of one.

  “Does it matter?”

  Nat blew out a breath and closed her eyes. “No. I suppose it doesn’t.” If anyone could understand complicated parental relationships, it was him. He wanted to hold her, tell her it would be all right, that nothing he saw from her mother would change his mind, but her entire body was putting out the off-limits vibe that usually only came after he upset her with whatever new thing she found upsetting.

  He saw her shoulders tense, saw the lines of her body harden. She needed to relax. He didn’t have to be a doctor to know stress on Nat meant stress on the baby. She finished her cracker and pulled out another. Her mother leaned back then in closer as if sniffing her daughter. “You’re pregnant. You know, I heard it, but I never thought you’d go and get yourself knocked up and not even come and tell your own mother.”

  Nat flipped a glance at him, blew out a breath, tongue wet the corner of her lips. “I need to get dressed, Mama. Then we can talk.”

  Ellen’s face broke into a smile. Maybe being slighted hadn’t upset her as much as she’d pretended a moment earlier. “I’m so proud of you. So proud. And a rich doctor to boot. With all that child support, you’re gonna be living the life.” When her mother leaned in to hug her, Nat’s face drained of color, and she shot Matt a pleading gaze. He turned and left.

  “Why don’t I make us a cup of coffee while Nat gets dressed?” Jacob pulled a shirt from the dresser and yanked it over his head, unreasonably angry at Nat’s mother. Maybe not unreasonably, but still angry.

  “Oh, no. This is a celebration. We need something stronger than coffee.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. Good Lord. It was only eight o’clock on a Sunday. And who kept a fifth of Jack in their purse? “My baby is having a baby.”

  “Mama, wait in the other room.” Nat’s voice and her stare were concrete. And for once, it wasn’t him she was mad at. Jacob turned to leave. If he had on clothes other than pajama pants with giant puckered lips on them—they’d made Nat smile in the store—he would go for a run, a drive, anything to get him out of there so he could digest what her mother said, to put it in the place in his mind where it belonged. A place where he didn’t have to hear it playing over and over in his ears.

  But she’d tucked her arm through his and pulled him. “Show me this beautiful home.”

  He glanced at Nat. “You okay?”

  “Oh, she’s fine. She’s going to be just fine. Her mama’s here now.”

  Somehow, Jacob knew otherwise.

  * * *

  JACOB: It wasn’t the ideal meeting with her mom, but I’d been waiting for a while for Nat to bring me around there. So I wasn’t going to complain. Not yet anyway.

  Of all the things God or karma or whoever controlled fate could have thrown at her, what had she done to deserve a visit from her mother? She’d accepted morning sickness because the end result, she was sure, would be worth it, but her mama? Really?

  She was probably in the living room with poor Jacob grilling him about his net worth or the value of the antique furniture Lucia had gifted him over the years. Nat didn’t bother with a hairbrush or a spot of make-up to cover the red patches where her face had started breaking out. She needed to get out there before her mother said something Nat wouldn’t be able to undo.

  As she walked down the hallway, she heard it. “I told Natasha she’d be a fool to not take the two-hundred fifty-thousand dollars. All that girl’s ever wanted was to get out of Rangers End.”

  She didn’t have to see his face. His shoulders slumped just enough for Nat to notice. She
pasted on a bright smile and walked straight to her husband. She needed this kiss as much as she needed him to have it. When they parted, she trailed her finger across his jaw. Without breaking their gaze, she said, “Mama, I’m not going anywhere. I have everything I want. Right here.”

  Jacob’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. Dammit.

  “Well, I wouldn’t either. Not if I had a house like this, full of such beautiful and fine things.” Sometime during their kiss, she’d stood and had her fingerprints all over an antique vase that Lucia had given them as a wedding present. One of the many wedding presents she’d given them.

  Instead of heading immediately for the dust cloth and industrial cleaner to erase all traces of her mother from the house, she pointed her gaze at Jacob, needed him to see her sincerity. “I would live in cardboard box as long as Jacob was beside me.” True.

  Ellen chuckled. “Well, speaking of places to live. I need one.”

  Oh God. She couldn’t be hinting... “What about Karen?”

  Her mother looked down into her cup. “Oh, you know that Brett. He doesn’t like me. Never has.” Not since she’d gotten drunk and knocked over their wedding cake, anyway. “No. Karen said no. So, I’m just going to have to live here with you and your rich doctor.”

  God, why did she keep saying it like that?

  “No, Mom.”

  Jacob stood. “Nat can I speak to you in the bedroom for a minute?”

  She glared at her mother. “Don’t touch anything.”

  He guided her down the hall with a hand on the small of her back that felt as natural now as if he’d done it since she’d learned to walk on her own. But she knew all about his soft heart. Just last week she’d been forced to be the vetoing vote to send three mangy strays to the shelter. Her mother was just another stray, and damned if she’d let him take this one in either.

  As soon as the door shut behind them, she turned to face him. “No, Jacob. Don’t even think it.”