Ryan drove Vera home. She wasn’t supposed to be driving yet, actually wasn’t even supposed to be back at work, but as usual, Vera hadn’t listened. He scolded her for not listening to the doctor, but he might as well have held his breath.
He persisted in his attempts to keep Vera off her feet, once literally picking her up and carrying her back to the couch where he ordered her to sit. He found some leftovers in her fridge and warmed them up in the microwave.
“I’m not used to sitting around and being waited on, but I think I like it,” Vera said.
“Tomorrow you’ll call the foundation?” He didn’t want to press too hard, but he had the feeling she planned to avoid the subject again.
“Sure. I will. It’s just that—”
“What is it?”
“No matter what you say, the foundation is a church thing and I’m not exactly a good person. Sometimes I wish I could come to God with a clean slate. Start over.”
“What makes you think you can’t? What do you think I did?”
“Maybe you did, but there are some things that can’t be forgiven.” Vera looked everywhere but at him.
“No, there aren’t. That’s the point.” He wished he wasn’t so young in his own faith.
She needed to talk to someone like Maggie, or Calhoun.
“No, you’re wrong.”
If Vera had ever discussed this with Maggie, he was sure Maggie would have spoken wisdom into Vera’s life.
“What is this terrible thing? Would you tell me?” He leaned in closer.
“No. I can’t talk about it.” Vera shook her head.
“Have you told Maggie?”
Vera frowned. “Maggie? I couldn’t bear the look in her eyes. She might hate me.”
“You don’t know her very well, then. There isn’t a hateful bone in her body.”
“OK, she wouldn’t hate me, but she would hate what I’ve done.”
“How bad could it be?” He reached for her delicate hand, but she pulled it away.
“I’m not going to tell you, either.”
“You’re making my imagination run away with all sorts of ideas.”
“That’s your problem.” She folded her arms across her chest.
“Whatever it is, it’s not as bad as you think.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because of you. I know your heart.” He locked eyes with hers.
“I’m still not going to tell you.” She raised her chin.
“I’m not leaving here until you do.” He leaned back on the couch and crossed his arms behind his neck.
Vera glared at him. “You should go now.”
Maybe if he stayed, she would tell him. She needed this unburdening. Though he hardly felt qualified to lead her, he could be here for her and listen.
“No. I’m just as stubborn as you are.”
“I hope you don’t have any other plans, because you’re going to be here for a while.” Vera tugged at a lock of her hair.
“Fortunately, I don’t have to work until tomorrow night.” He settled in, making a show of getting comfortable by reaching for the remote.
“You’re not my friend if you make me do this.” She rocked back, clutching her waist.
“Maybe I’m a friend if I do. You need to tell someone. Why not me? You already know my past demonstrates I’m no saint.”
“Fine.” Vera got up and hobbled into one of the back rooms of the house. Stin followed close behind.
“Where are you going now?”
She came out with a small shoebox and placed it in his lap.
“What’s this?”
“Open it. You want to know so badly.” Her blue eyes filled with tears.
He took the lid off and found a silver baby rattle, a pink hair bow, and a small and delicate pink blanket. “I don’t understand.”
“That’s all I have left of my baby. I killed my baby, Ryan. Is your God big enough to forgive that?”
She couldn’t bear to look at Ryan anymore. His face would reflect the hatred she had for herself. A good man like him would hate what she’d done. But as much as it hurt to do it, after what he’d done for her he deserved to know the truth. There was a very good reason she didn’t deserve anyone’s charity, much less that of a church.
“These things belonged to your baby?” Ryan finally asked.
“They were the first and only things I bought when I found out I was pregnant. She died before I could buy any more.”
“When did this happen?” His eyebrows furrowed, a pained look in his eyes.
Her throat grew raw with unshed tears. She’d thought enough tears had been shed over the years, but no matter what, when she brought out the box there were still more.
“I was eighteen and modeling in Europe. You’ll remember that my mother let me go without a chaperone. I met a young man. I fell in love, or so I thought. And then, well, by the time I realized I was pregnant I was about three months along. I was excited, but you can imagine the modeling agency was upset. They threatened to cancel my contract, threatened to tell my mother. You know what they wanted me to do.”
“Is that what you did?” His gaze held nothing but compassion as he pulled her down on the couch beside him.
“No, it’s what I told them I would do. I thought if I had more time I could figure out a way to keep the baby. Of course, the boy didn’t want to have anything to do with it. I knew how upset my mother would be, but I finally told her over the phone. All she did was berate the agency for not supervising me better. I refused to do what they told me to, but as it turned out, it happened anyway. I miscarried about four months.”
“How is that your fault?”
“Because I didn’t take care of myself the way I should have. I didn’t even know for the first three months, and I should have. I stayed thin for the runway. I didn’t feed my body properly so it wasn’t a hospitable environment. I think those were the words the doctor used.” Her womb. Inhospitable.
“Darlin’, that’s not your fault.” There was such love in his eyes it undid her. Again, he untangled her pain with his big heart.
“Whose fault is it, then? I was the one who should have taken better care of my body. Then maybe my baby would have lived. A little girl. I asked.”
“Come here.” Ryan pulled her into his arms, and she didn’t protest. The pine tree scent of him warmed her heart –a heart she kept forgetting to guard around him. Already he had broken through her toughest wall.
“During our marriage, Kevin found out about the miscarriage. He used it against me. When I couldn’t become pregnant, he blamed my defective womb. I had to accept the fact that maybe I’m not meant to be a mother.”
“This is why you told me that some people shouldn’t be parents? That you never want kids?” Ryan whispered in her ear.
She couldn’t speak any more through her tears. And because she loved Ryan she couldn’t be with him. She’d already seen his arms filled with a baby and he deserved that kind of happiness more than anyone else she’d ever known.
A family. And a wife who could give him one.
It took the better part of a week to stop thinking of the tournament loss. Ryan hadn’t been the one hurt in the tournament. But later, after holding an anguished Vera in his arms, his heart hurt for her. He’d take a broken leg like Shane’s any day.
Without knowing what to do, he’d held her in his arms until she’d fallen asleep. Then he’d left her on the couch, covered with a blanket, and had slipped off for home.
For the next few days he’d felt raw, like someone had turned his skin inside out. And, yeah, maybe he’d been a tad overprotective. He’d driven Vera to work every day until, with a smirk, she’d threatened to file a restraining order. He’d gotten the message.
Now that the tournament was over and Vera swore she’d never step foot inside a gym again, he missed seeing her every day.
He hadn’t let Kyle leave without asking him
to church, but Kyle had too many excuses for not attending. Perhaps feeling some amount of guilt, Kyle had left a considerable donation to the foundation. As much as Ryan appreciated that, it wouldn’t make a dent in the overwhelming needs of the community. It seemed that more foreclosure notices were issued every day. And the foundation couldn’t help all of them with its current funding.
Vera’s paperwork application for the foundation grant had gone through. Their pro-bono lawyer had explained that they were working with the bank and trying to negotiate terms.
He couldn’t get any more information because the process had to be confidential, and even though he worked for the foundation, he wasn’t entitled to know every detail.
He did know that another application had come through at the last minute. Mrs. Jones, Harte’s Peak only centenarian, had been scammed by a fly-by-night lender who’d pulled up stakes and left town. She could also lose her home, a home owned by some member of the Jones family since before the founding of Harte’s Peak.
They were all working diligently to organize fundraisers and phoning for donations.
Ryan prayed that somehow there would be enough money raised to help both of them. Now he sat at his desk at the end of a long day, writing out a report of the day’s activities.
Jack came in from patrol. He looked ragged, with bloodshot eyes and dark circles under his eyes.
“How’s it going?” Jack asked. They never had much of a chance to talk anymore since their shifts often overlapped.
“I should ask you. Do you sleep at all?” Ryan laughed.
“I’ve learned to sleep standing up if I have to. A few minutes here, or there. Never through the night, though. Maggie said it might be another two months.”
“Sounds like torture. You do know sleep deprivation is one of the tools used on enemy combatants. To break them down.”
“I can see why. I’d do almost anything for a few more minutes. Pathetic.” He picked up the coffee carafe and poured a cup. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Whatever happened to that Kevin guy, the one who kept parking in tow-away zones?”
“Guy has the worst luck I’ve ever seen. Pretty sure he left town after the second time his Rolls was towed away.” Sometimes the lack of parking in a small town was a good thing.
After Kevin’s last visit to the café, he’d been issued a ticket every other day.
He had a feeling they wouldn’t be seeing Mr. Wall Street again anytime soon.
“How’s Vera? Is the foundation going to come through?”
“Think so. The only problem is that Mrs. Jones needs help, too.”
“Mrs. Jones? I thought she owned that house free and clear.”
“She got scammed by one of these lowlife companies.”
“Will there be enough funds for both?”
“That’s what we hope. Calhoun is already talking about another bachelor auction. Only this time we have one less bachelor.” Two years ago, they’d managed to raise several thousand dollars to help start a small free health clinic in town.
“Yeah, I’m off the market.”
“Ever since the first time you saw Maggie, I would say.”
Jack laughed. “Well not quite, but yeah.”
“Sometimes I wish I could say the same. I get tired of being alone.”
“It isn’t easy.”
“I said I wouldn’t ask anyone out until I thought there was a chance she could someday be my wife. And now, I can’t stop thinking of Vera.” But even though she seemed to be navigating her way back to her faith, he could never keep up with her lifestyle. Not on his public servant salary.
“There’s a surprise. Maggie has thought for a while you two are perfect for each other. I do love my wife, but it’s annoying when she’s always right.”
“Vera is a good friend. That’s all she thinks of me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Do you actually think Vera could ever be happy with someone like me?” He didn’t want to spell it out for Jack. Neither one of them made enough money. Even though what was enough was different depending on the person, certainly he would never make enough for his wife to buy designer shoes. Not by a long shot.
“Why not?”
“I thought you’d be the first to discourage me. Vera isn’t exactly a church-going girl.”
“I’d be the last person to tell you that.” Jack shook his head. “I wasn’t a Christian when I met and fell for Maggie. But she had the patience to wait for me to find out for myself. Remember?”
“How could I forget? You would read from the Bible at your desk. And then ask me if I’d ever heard that before.”
“Sometimes love is just-–love.” He shrugged.
“And you can’t help who you love.”
“Something like that.”
Ryan couldn’t help the way he felt, and rarely a day had gone by that he didn’t picture those piercing blue eyes returning his gaze. Or remember the feel of the silky blonde hair in his fingers. He could almost see the reflection of their future children in her eyes. But that was crazy.
13
Baby John looked like a plump roast with one month of growth under him. His cheeks were chubby and rosy pink. His hair was a golden brown, almost the exact color of Jack’s.
“What are you feeding this kid? He’s growing like a weed.” Vera peered at him as he slept in Maggie’s arms.
“All he does is eat and sleep. Too bad he has his days and nights mixed up,” Maggie yawned.
“You looked drained. Is there anything I can do to help?” She didn’t want to hold John again and feel his precious soft skin. It hurt too much, but Maggie looked worn out.
After her talk with Ryan the walls had come crumbling down. She’d cried off and on for a week. Then she’d hidden the box in the back of her closet, deep behind all the shoes she’d accumulated over the years. He didn’t hate her after hearing what she’d done. It still surprised her, but his acceptance also made her consider letting Maggie know why she didn’t want to hold her baby.
“I’m kind of leashed to him since I’m the only one who can feed him.”
Vera sighed with relief. There were probably a million other things she could do for Maggie while she put up her feet and relaxed with the baby. After all, her ankle had improved and the boot would come off sooner than planned. In the meantime she’d managed a delicate balance with her movements and no longer had to hop around and avoid placing any weight on it.
“I’ll take care of these dishes.” The sink was full. Jack was at work and Lexi at school.
“That would be awesome. It’s sometimes hard to even get in the shower.” Still in a bathrobe at eleven o’clock, Maggie looked overwhelmed.
“I can’t help you with that.” Vera smirked.
She hadn’t held the baby since they’d been in the hospital, but fortunately Maggie appeared too sleep-deprived to notice.
“What’s going on with the foundation?” Maggie yawned.
“All the onerous paperwork has been turned in, and I’m waiting. Of course, I missed another month so the bank is constantly hounding me. I screen all my calls. I don’t know what else I can do.”
“Have you seen Ryan lately?”
Ryan. She missed him so much. The scariest thing about loving him was realizing it with such certainty and knowing they couldn’t be together. “I don’t see him as much as I used to. I refuse to go back to that torture house he calls a gym, and I’ve been good about keeping to the speed limit, so other than his occasional trips to the café, I never see him.”
“I’m sure he’s busy, too. I hate to mention it, but another place you could see him would be church.”
“I’m aware of that.” She hadn’t told anyone, but she’d started reading the Bible again. If she told Maggie she’d probably cry tears of joy so she planned to hold back the news until she had more of it to give.
“Unless, of course, you’re happy about not seeing him anymore.” Maggie caressed her baby boy’s face.
; “No. I guess I’m not happy about that. But that’s the way it has to be.”
“But why?” Maggie met her eyes, a look of worry etching the angles in her face.
“We’re not right for each other.”
“Hmmm, well I happen to disagree. But I think you know that.”
“Don’t start playing matchmaker. Didn’t you see Ryan holding your baby at the hospital? That’s what he deserves to have someday—a family.”
“I know you’re nervous around babies, but surely John has changed your mind? I mean, he was born in the backseat of your car in the winter and look how well he’s doing. Babies are resilient.” Maggie kissed his little nose.
Maybe if they’re given enough time to grow in the safety of their mother’s womb. She didn’t say another word and concentrated on scouring a particularly difficult pan in which someone, probably Maggie, a terrible, though well-meaning cook, had burned rice.
“If you love Ryan, and I think maybe you do, why couldn’t you be the one to give him a family?”
Though John slept on, Maggie continued to coo and rock him.
The loving sounds of a mother with her child undid Vera. All the words of her story poured out like water from the faucet. She’d told Ryan and he didn’t hate her. He didn’t call her a monster. So now she told Maggie.
Maggie sobbed. “Why didn’t you tell me? You were a kid. You didn’t know any better.”
“But you did. You were my age when you got pregnant with Lexi.”
Maggie put John down in the baby bouncer and hugged Vera. “I had my mother. She was my biggest support until she passed away. And Lexi’s dad was a good father who didn’t walk away from us. We had two very different stories. Don’t try to compare them.”
Once again, Vera was reminded of how she didn’t have a real mother. Not one whose support she could count on. Maybe that was the real reason she didn’t want to be a mother herself. She didn’t have a good example to follow. She’d never had motherly love modeled for her. And she still longed to have that relationship with her mother, no matter how many years passed.
“You’re right. I blamed my mother as much as I blamed myself. None of it has done me any good.”
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