First Comes Baby

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Was she thinking about her mother, gone so young? Or how her father had had to sit in the hospital beside Laurel’s bed facing the fact that he might lose his oldest? Laurel of all people knew how vulnerable she and her loved ones were. Caleb had no way of comforting her beyond tightening his arm.

  And turning his head to press a kiss against her temple.

  She tilted her face up to look at him. “What was that about?”

  “Mmm. Just felt like it.”

  She smiled at him so softly that he kissed her again, on the forehead. Then, when she didn’t flinch, on the nose. And finally, a mere brush of lips, on the mouth.

  He lifted his head to see her face still lifted to his, her eyes closed, as if she were suspended in the moment. Caleb reached up and stroked her cheek, and she shifted to press it against his hand. Then her lashes lifted and she smiled as naturally as if they always cuddled.

  “So, what is for dinner?”

  God. He was thinking about kissing her passionately, and she was speculating on the menu.

  On the other hand, her voice was just a little husky, and she was edging away from him. So maybe she didn’t care about food. Maybe it was simply the first topic that came to mind to break the mood.

  He let her get away with it. “Bean soup and sourdough rolls,” he said.

  “I love your cooking.”

  “You mean, you love not cooking.”

  Her grin flashed, a hint of mischief that reminded him of a younger, more carefree Laurel. “Well, that, too.”

  He lifted his arms above his head and stretched. “I’d better get the biscuits in the oven.”

  Twenty minutes later, Caleb was taking them out of the oven when they both heard a distant cry.

  Laurel, who was setting the butter on the table, said, “Told you so.”

  “Damn it, they’re going to get cold.”

  “I’ll nurse fast.” Her hand snaked out to grab one. “And gobble quick.” She detoured to slather it with butter, then ate as she headed for the bedroom.

  Resigned, Caleb wrapped the biscuits in a cloth napkin and put the lid back on the soup.

  They ended up eating with Lydia in her plastic carrier on the table between them, as she was during so many of their meals. She wasn’t as quick to fall back asleep anymore, and was more likely to enjoy being held, head wavering on her immature neck as she tried to take in the world with eyes that didn’t yet focus quite the way she wanted them to.

  Caleb’s parents came for a visit the next day for the third time in less than two weeks. His mother in particular had surprised Caleb. She’d never been the stereotypical parent who hinted strongly that she was looking forward to a daughter-in-law and grandchildren. But she was obviously delighted now that she had a granddaughter.

  While she cooed over Lydia, who lay between mom and grandma on the sofa, flapping arms and legs, Caleb and his father sat in easy chairs facing their womenfolk.

  Caleb’s dad took a sip of his coffee.

  “I’ve been thinking about taking early retirement.”

  Caleb stared at his father. “You?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Should I take offense?”

  “No, no. I just…” He shook his head. “Wouldn’t you be bored?”

  “Bored? Hell, no! There’s more to life than work. Your mom and I’ve been wanting to do some more traveling.” He shrugged. “My golf game interests me more than adding a new account.”

  “You’re only fifty-five.”

  “That’s why it’s called early retirement.”

  “Would you move?” Laurel asked.

  “I think we might,” Caleb’s mother answered. “Not away from Seattle. Especially now that we have a grandchild.” She tickled Lydia’s tummy. “But, honestly, our house and yard are a lot to take care of. I don’t want to give up gardening altogether.” She smiled at her son. “Caleb came by his interest in it naturally. But I’d be content with a much smaller yard. I love playing with annuals in pots all summer, then being able to forget them in the winter.”

  Still stunned, Caleb said, “Well, then… Have fun.”

  “Of course, we might be willing to put off the traveling if we can help.” His mother looked at Laurel. “I assume you’re planning to go back to work.”

  Laurel nodded, and Caleb stiffened.

  “I’d love to take care of Lydia for you.” She gave a quick laugh. “Maybe not until she goes into kindergarten, but for now, anyway. If you’d be interested.”

  “Interested?” Laurel blinked, but tears trembled on her lashes. “I’ve been dreading having to find day care. I couldn’t imagine who I’d be willing to leave Lydia with. Oh, if you mean it, I’d be thrilled.”

  She tried to mention payment. His mother pooh-poohed it. “It would be my privilege, to be able to spend time with my darling granddaughter.”

  Caleb’s father beamed benevolently. Caleb wanted to kick both of them and say, Damn it, don’t you see that you’re making it easy for Laurel to go back to work?

  Yeah, they did see, he realized. They were trying to make up for their earlier resistance to the idea of their son having a child out of wedlock by helping. They had no idea how insecure he was, waiting for the day Laurel decided it was time to quit playing family and go home again.

  Caleb wondered if they’d be able to refrain from saying “I told you so” if he confessed to his present state of mixed happiness and misery.

  Yeah, of course they would. He knew them better than that.

  Suddenly aware of his father’s blue eyes resting thoughtfully on his face, Caleb tuned back in to hear his mom and Laurel making plans.

  “If I can find halfway reasonable parking near work, I might start driving. I don’t like the idea of Lydia’s car seat unbuckled on the bus.”

  Caleb didn’t, either.

  “Plus, it would make my day a bit shorter.”

  Well, that was something. He’d hated the image of her standing on street corners waiting for the bus, icy drizzle coming down and Lydia bundled in her mother’s arms. Downtown there were always street people hanging out at bus stops, and the nearest stop to his parents’ house had to be two blocks away. Not far on a warm summer morning, but a hell of a long way at six o’clock in January with night having fallen.

  On the other hand, Caleb knew Laurel didn’t drive much anymore. She kept a car, and did use it for her weekend grocery shopping and an occasional visit to her dad or sister, but not much else.

  “Why would I?” she’d said. “The bus is cheaper, more ecological and less stressful.”

  He didn’t find driving stressful, but hadn’t argued. Then. Then, she hadn’t been carting their baby around.

  When Lydia began to get fussy, Laurel hugged his parents goodbye and retired to her bedroom to nurse, leaving Caleb to walk them out.

  “Bet you’re going to miss them,” his father said.

  You think? Caleb wanted to ask viciously.

  Unclenching his jaw, he conceded, “You could say that.”

  His mother gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. “Oh, Caleb, I wish…”

  She didn’t finish saying what she wished before getting in the car. She didn’t have to. He knew. He wished, too.

  But wishing wasn’t good enough. His businessman father had always believed in taking charge, and despite Caleb’s more laid-back personality, so did he.

  No, he wasn’t going to let her go that easily.

  He waved as his father started their car forward around the circular drive. Then he went back into the house filled with new resolve.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LAUREL WISHED CALEB WOULD quit kissing her at all if he didn’t really mean it.

  Not that she wanted him to mean it…Yes, she did. What if, next time he planted a gentle kiss on her mouth, she parted her lips a little? Or even, daringly, licked his lips lightly?

  Lying in bed, she moaned, muffling it at the last minute into her pillow. Lydia had been cranky tonight. She kept falling asleep in thei
r arms, but every time Laurel or Caleb laid her down in the bassinet she woke screaming. Finally, thank God, she’d been so exhausted she had remained in a deep, limp sleep. But who knew how long before she’d wake demanding Mommy? Four hours? Two? One?

  Sleep! Laurel ordered herself. She’d be sorry later if she didn’t.

  But despite her exhaustion she couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss Caleb had dropped so casually on her mouth out in the hall, before he murmured, “Good night.” As he’d taken to doing every night lately, or sometimes when he was leaving to go to his office at the Seattle store. Then, he might stop behind the sofa, bend over and kiss the edge of her mouth, or the back of her neck, his hands gently squeezing her shoulders.

  Tonight they both stood holding their breath in the hall waiting to see if sleep would take. Laurel had eventually sagged and said, “I’m going to bed.”

  “You do that.” Caleb clasped her upper arms, kneaded a couple of times, and bent his head oh, so slowly, his gaze focused on her mouth. The kiss might have been brotherly, except for the way his lips had lingered. They’d brushed one way, paused, then slid the other, while she had stood paralyzed, feeling this rush of heat.

  Even now, that warmth continued to pool in her lower belly, and she was tempted to touch herself. As if that would help, when it was Caleb she would see behind closed eyelids.

  She couldn’t want him. She just couldn’t.

  Another moan caught in her throat. She pictured him sauntering down the hall to his room and changing into the flannel pajama bottoms that he wore slung low on his hips. The pajama bottoms that were all he wore to bed. And maybe those were in deference to her presence and to the fact that he often got up at night when Lydia cried.

  She’d seen him shirtless back in college, but he’d been skinny then. Athletic, but bony enough that his shirtless state didn’t induce womanly knee-buckling. But the night three weeks ago when she woke him because she was in labor, after he sprang out of bed and turned on the lamp, Laurel had stared. The only thing she could think was, Wow. When did that happen? A woman who was between increasingly close, intense contractions shouldn’t have been able to notice how sexy a man’s chest was, but she had.

  Now she saw him almost nightly without his shirt. He was still lean, but with the addition of ten years, he’d acquired muscles that bunched at his shoulders and defined his chest. She tried every time not to let her gaze wander to his taut stomach, and especially not to the thin line of hair that led from his belly button down below the waistband of those pajama bottoms. He was all male, and, damn it, he’d buckle any woman’s knees.

  Laurel wanted to be an exception. She might feel these things, but she couldn’t act on them. Not with him, not with anyone.

  What if he were here right now, in bed with her? Eyes closed, she imagined splaying her hands on his chest, learning the feel and not just the look of those muscles. Kissing his neck, tasting his skin…

  Her breath came fast between parted lips.

  Tracing that line of hair, sliding her fingers beneath the elastic waistband…

  Her belly cramped and she opened her eyes to stare at the band of dim light from the hall. Caleb knew she didn’t like complete darkness, and had taken to leaving the bathroom light on.

  Caleb, she thought, who would not lie passively in her bed, a warm living mannequin. No, his arms would come around her and his mouth would smother hers with kisses. His tongue would penetrate her mouth, and he’d rear above her, his shoulders blocking that dim light. His weight would bear down on her, making her feel small, weak, ineffectual.

  Her breath still came fast, but for a different reason now. Incipient panic shivered beneath her skin, balled in her chest. No. She couldn’t bear it. Shouldn’t fool herself for a second that she could.

  Or…could she?

  She calmed her breathing. None of the other women in her rape support group were celibate. True, they might have been more experienced sexually than she was before the rape. Laurel suspected that would make a difference. But maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe what she had to do was convince her subconscious that all men, and especially Caleb, were not like the monster who had raped her.

  How did you communicate with your subconscious? Ask to have a chat?

  Pushing the covers lower, Laurel flopped onto her back. Resentment stirred. Why did he have to stir all this up? Especially right now? She was muddled enough already. Not depressed—thank heavens, not that. But, postbirth, her mood didn’t just swing, it did cartwheels. No, whole tumbling runs, Olympic class. One minute she’d feel dizzy with happiness, the next weepy. She could go from confident to frighteningly lonely in less than sixty seconds. It was hormones doing this to her, Laurel knew it was, but that didn’t really help her cope.

  And Caleb chose now to…well, whatever he was doing. Not flirting, exactly. But he was being tender, sensual. He was definitely hinting at possibilities.

  Her eyes popped open in alarm. Was she sure? What if she did something incredibly forward when he dropped one of those kisses on her mouth, and he really didn’t think of her as anything but a friend? She could ruin everything!

  Her mood flip-flopped again, as capricious as a toddler’s. She wasn’t the one trying to ruin everything, Caleb was. Of course he was coming on to her. A man didn’t look at a woman’s mouth that way before bestowing a brotherly peck. Anyway, he’d said enough things suggesting that he’d been thinking about her in a different light for a long time for her to guess that he wouldn’t be upset if she did some hinting of her own right back.

  She wasn’t supposed to be having this dilemma. Which part of “broken, can’t be fixed” was she having trouble understanding?

  What Laurel knew was, she hadn’t felt these sexual stirrings in a long time—since Before—but the impulses were definitely alive and well. Not retired, gone, fini, the way she’d believed. And, boy, were they inconvenient for someone who was pretty sure she’d throw a major fit the minute some guy tried to climb on top of her.

  Just like that, she was mad. Caleb knew this. So why was he giving her these not-so-subtle nudges?

  She’d think he was just a flirt if she didn’t know him better. See a woman, must come on to her. The thing is, Caleb wasn’t like that. In the old days, they had flirted a little, but it was mutual. Otherwise, Caleb was friendly, direct, charming, but also often, to Laurel’s amusement, oblivious to women trying to come on to him.

  And since she was raped, he’d never once acted as if he were anything but a friend. The fact that he was a man and she was a woman never entered into it.

  Okay, maybe, they’d both been a tad more conscious of those differences since his sperm impregnated her. How could they help it? But still, he’d been his usual supportive, occasionally over-bearing self.

  It wasn’t until that first time he kissed her, after they visited Nadia in the hospital, that Laurel had caught these vibes of sexual interest from him. And then lately…well, lately, there was something in his eyes every time he looked at her.

  And it sure wasn’t because she was so stunning. Even if she started the exercise program she planned, her waistline would take six months to recover from Lydia’s tenure. Her boobs dripped milk at inconvenient times. She had bags and dark circles beneath her eyes. Half the time, her hair was lank and scraped back in a ponytail, she’d just come from changing a diaper, and the most exciting thing she had to talk about was Lydia’s sleeping schedule.

  Miss America, she wasn’t.

  So what had gotten into him?

  She gave one more frustrated flop and further tangled the covers.

  If he didn’t knock it off, she didn’t know what she was going to do.

  OVER THE NEWSPAPER, Caleb observed. “You look tense.”

  Laurel shot him a less than friendly look. “Walking for an hour straight with a screaming baby will do that to you.”

  “I offered—”

  She cut him off. “I know you did. It’s okay. No reason both of us should su
ffer. But my ears are ringing, okay? And I’m praying she stays down for a couple of hours.”

  “You should go take a nap.”

  Laurel mumbled what he took as agreement, but didn’t move from her seat in the rocker. It thumped back and forth on the oak floor too quickly to suggest she was finding the act of rocking relaxing.

  “Your dad still coming tomorrow? I may run down to the Tacoma store.”

  She shrugged. “Last I knew. We’ll be okay anyway.”

  He nodded and pretended to go back to the sports news while continuing to watch her surreptitiously. Laurel kept rocking, her fingers tight on the arms of the mission-style chair. She wasn’t exactly frowning, but her face looked tight.

  Enlightenment dawned and he lowered the paper again. “Headache?”

  She started to nod and winced. “Yeah. I don’t want to take anything while I’m nursing. Maybe a hot bath…”

  “Why don’t I massage your shoulders? You used to tell me I was missing my calling, I had such good hands.”

  “I’d forgotten.” The rocking motion checked. “Do you mean it?”

  “What do you think? Come on.” He closed the newspaper and set it aside, then patted the couch between his knees.

  After a moment Laurel stood and crossed the room, dropping to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of him. These days Caleb was keeping the house warmer than he liked for her and Lydia’s sake, but Laurel seemed to be cold all the time anyway.

  “You’d better lose the sweater,” he said, tugging at it.

  She lifted her arms and pulled it over her head. Beneath, she wore a white T-shirt and one of the sturdier-than-usual bras he often caught a glimpse of when she was nursing.

  He laid his hands on her and gently squeezed the muscles that ran from her neck to the bony tops of her shoulder sockets.

  A throaty sound escaped her and she let her head drop forward.

  She’d sound like that when she was making love, he thought, and his body surged in response.

  I’m healing here, not seducing.

  He kneaded and applied pressure as he found hard knots of tension. He worked the ones out beneath her shoulder blades, then moved up to her neck. It felt tense, but also fragile beneath his hands, reminding him of how much smaller than him she was. Her personality was big enough, he never thought, I dwarf her. But she did have fine bones he noticed mostly in her hands and feet. Long fingers, long toes, but slender. Caleb vaguely remembered grumbles about how she had to buy expensive shoes at Nordstrom because she needed a narrow width.