by Skye Taylor
Zoe heard her father’s snort of derision. “Love is a very poor value to base a marriage on. The two of you have a lot in common, similar upbringings, similar tastes in music and entertainment, same religion, the same values. People fall out of love after the I do’s all the time. It’s the other things that hold a marriage together. Look at your mother and me.”
“Mom died. How do I know you two would still be married?”
“Then look at your grandparents. They had an arranged marriage. They barely even knew each other before their wedding day, and they were married for sixty-seven years.”
“Arranged marriages are as dead as Abraham Lincoln.”
Zoe’s father hadn’t become a good lawyer without perseverance or without taking the time to marshal all his arguments beforehand. And he knew when to abandon a losing argument and try a new tack. “What about my grandchild? Marriage would allow you to be a stay-at-home mom. You would be there twenty-four seven until she’s old enough for school. And see that she has the chance to participate in whatever activities she wants as she grows up. How are you going to pay for piano lessons and ballet, or maybe she’ll turn out to be an athlete? Do you have any idea how much private clubs cost? And what about her college education? Have you considered any of that?”
Zoe sighed. She wasn’t going to win her father over to her way of thinking, but she didn’t want to create a rift they’d never get past either. “I have considered all of that. I would love not to have to put Molly into day care and—”
“You’re naming her after my mother?”
“Molly Ann. After your mother and mine.”
Zoe heard her father breathing. Apparently she’d said the one thing that could derail his sermon.
“Molly,” he murmured softly, obviously touched. “Molly Callahan.”
“I’m glad you approve.” She’d finally done something right. “Will you come to see her when she’s born, Daddy?”
When her father didn’t answer right off, Zoe wondered what was going on in his head. Had he finally given up trying to change her mind? Or was he just mustering his resources for another attack?
“Of course, I’ll come to see her. And you. I wish things were different, but you’re more like your mother than you know. She had a mind of her own, too.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Your mother could be the most stubborn woman in creation when she got a bee in her bonnet. But she was a fine woman. You’re very like her.”
Zoe knew that was likely to be as close to telling her he loved her that her father might ever get. The one thing she knew without doubt about her parents’ marriage was how much her father had loved her mother even though he’d never known how to show it. He’d been devastated by Ann’s death, and in his grief he’d buried himself in work, leaving his children to fend for themselves much of the time. Zoe hadn’t planned it that way, but perhaps naming her daughter for her father’s mother and wife was the single best way she could have ensured he’d come around to accepting the reality of an illegitimate grandchild.
“I love you, too, Daddy.”
“Ah.” Her father cleared his throat. “It’s going to be a busy day. I better get to work.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
“Call me when it’s time. Okay?”
“I will. Bye, Daddy.”
After she hung up, Zoe drank her now cold tea, thinking about her father. He blustered and argued. He seemed aloof and cold even with his children, but how much of that was just because he didn’t know how to be any different?
She’d always thought Porter and Daddy were a lot alike. They had the same work ethic. The drive to excel. An obsession with appearances. And the need to win. Maybe Porter didn’t know how to be loving any more than her father did. She felt sorry for him. But not sorry enough to pledge the rest of her life to him.
If she ever married, she wanted to feel treasured. She didn’t want to have to go looking for proof that her husband cared about her. Not the way her mother had. Like Jake had said, she wanted the fairy tale.
The thought of Jake brought back all she’d learned about him yesterday. And about his family. Jake’s dad and her own couldn’t have been more different. Where Patrick Callahan, whose black hair was still unmarked by gray, was rarely seen out of a suit and tie, Jake’s dad’s sun-bleached fair hair and tawny skin attested to a man who lived his life working out of doors in short sleeves and a hard hat. His tanned hands were rough and calloused rather than soft and pale. Cam had laugh lines at the corners of his eyes instead of worry lines between his brows, and he offered up his free time as a qualified EMT, on call at all hours of the day and night instead of heading up prestigious non-profit boards and arranging meetings to suit his own convenience. Yet, in spite of these vast differences in lifestyle, they had raised very similar families—big families, with children grown into friendly, responsible adults who stuck together, watched out for one another, and enjoyed each other’s company.
Her mind flashed to the image of pretty, petite Kate, surrounded by four tall brothers in a group hug while their mother snapped a photo of them. Then one with Kate’s husband Ethan and all the grandchildren. And finally one with the timer set and everyone in it, even Zoe who wasn’t family at all, but Sandy had insisted. It was just like when her family managed to gather under the same roof at the same time. Zoe had a whole album of photos documenting the years. Friends came and went. Spouses and grandchildren got added. Some family members disappeared. Like her mother. And Ava’s.
Jake and Zoe had a lot more in common than Zoe and Porter. Why couldn’t Jake be the one with the ring offering marriage?
Chapter 32
JAKE SPENT ALL day battening down the work site in preparation for the coming hurricane and thinking about Zoe and missed opportunities. His father’s warning echoed over and over in his head along with images of Porter possessively leading Zoe away from the table, symbolically peeing on every bush along the way. Marking his territory the way Jake had misguidedly recoiled from doing. He’d been a damned fool.
The fact that he still hadn’t made time to talk to Zoe tormented him as he pushed his crew and himself. The eye was following the predicted path, and the storm had grown in size. Even though landfall was expected to come well north of Hatteras, the possibilities for disaster loomed on both fronts. Even the fringes of a storm the size of Gertie could wreak havoc on a construction site, picking up sheets of plywood and tossing them around like playing cards, tumbling unsecured piles of lumber, tearing at loose tarps, dumping containers of supplies, and spreading litter for miles. Marrying Porter for all the wrong reasons. Marrying Porter because Jake hadn’t offered her an alternative.
With the construction site taken care of and the crew sent home for the duration, Jake locked his mobile office and climbed into his van. Twenty minutes later, he pulled into his driveway, determined to head directly over to Zoe’s and talk to her without further delay.
But her truck wasn’t in the driveway. He checked on his girls, then policed up his own yard, putting away bikes and lawn furniture while keeping an eye out for the battered green truck. His own yard secure, he headed over to Zoe’s where he hauled her rubbish barrels into the garage and tied the old rocking chairs to the porch railings. When he was satisfied that he’d done all he could and Zoe still hadn’t returned from work, he headed home to take a shower and get cleaned up.
He was toweling himself dry when his pager went off. He called in, hoping it was just a fire, but as he’d feared, they wanted anyone who could get there at the firehouse as backup for the regular crew. He hustled into clean jeans and tossed a change of clothes into a duffle. Then he headed for the twins’ room to pack a bag for them.
Ava rushed up to him in the hall. “Is there a fire, Daddy?”
“No. I’ve just got to spend the night at the fir
ehouse, so I’ll be dropping you off at Aunt Kate’s. Pack up whatever you need for an overnight. Okay, kitten?”
Ava didn’t question him because they’d been through this drill before. Even when Celia was still living at home, Jake hadn’t felt comfortable leaving his mother-in-law and the girls alone during a hurricane.
After a fairly organized scramble, the twins and Ava had collected all the things they needed and were piling into the van. Zoe’s truck had appeared in her driveway, but there was no sign of her. Jake hesitated.
The storm was already howling. If he’d been watching the television, he was sure he’d have seen the usual windbreaker-clad reporter leaning at an impossible angle against the wind with rain splattering in his face as he shouted out a status report on what anyone watching could already see outside their own windows.
Jake needed to get his girls settled. He’d call Zoe and check on her when he left Kate’s.
The enormous oak tree by the old brick gatepost tossed wildly in the teeth of the wind as Jake pulled onto the main road. That tree had seen storms bigger than this one and would probably see a lot more, but already the ground was littered with leaves and branches torn off that tree and others.
At the next intersection Jake had to wait for a gap in the long line of cars retreating from the outer banks. The sound was a froth of whitecaps and churning waves. Jake didn’t want to think what the ocean looked like on the other side of the barrier island. His mother would be at Aunt Catherine’s in the relative safety of Wilmington and his dad at the ambulance station, hoping to do nothing more than play cards all night.
Finally, Jake got a break and pulled out. Rain slashed at the windshield, and he clutched the steering wheel a little tighter as a gust rocked the van. It was going to be a wild night.
“Will we have another blanket house?” Lynn piped up from her seat in the rear of the van.
“A blanket house?” Jake shot a glance at Ava.
“Aunt Kate draped blankets over the ping pong table in the playroom last time we stayed over during a hurricane. She made them a picnic supper to eat in their cave, and then they got to sleep there.”
Now that Ava explained it, Jake remembered hearing about the cave. Leave it to his sister to turn a hurricane scare into an adventure.
“Maybe you will,” Jake told his daughter. “Maybe your Aunt Kate will have a different adventure. But you’ll have fun with Becca and Jenny, whatever you do.”
“Is Becca a baby?” Lori asked.
“Jenny says Becca’s just a baby,” Lynn added.
“Becca is not a baby, and I’d better not hear that you called her that. Be nice to her,” Jake admonished.
“I’m always nice to her.” Jake saw Lynn nodding her head vigorously in the rearview mirror. “But Jenny isn’t.”
“Jenny’s bossy,” Lori stated with a touch of irritation in her voice.
Lynn and Lori began a low-voiced discussion that Jake couldn’t quite make out. He let their chatter float along in the back of his mind. The realization had just hit him that Zoe would be alone in the midst of the coming storm. Perhaps he should have asked her if she wanted to stay with Kate as well. Kate wouldn’t have thought twice about an extra guest.
He fumbled at his belt for his cell to give Zoe a call but then dropped the phone on the console. He needed two hands on the wheel. Ten minutes later, he pulled the van into his sister’s driveway. He’d call Zoe after he got the kids settled.
Jenny and Becca tumbled out the front door with shiny slickers flapping in the wind and ran for the van.
“Mom said we can have another cave house,” they called excitedly in unison as rain spit in their faces.
The twins scrambled out to join their cousins while Ava and Jake gathered up their bags and made a dash for the house.
Another ten minutes, and Jake was back in the car wiping water out of his eyes. He grabbed his cell and punched in the speed dial he’d assigned to Zoe’s home number. He listened to it ring. And ring. And ring.
Where was she? He knew she was home. Her truck hadn’t gotten home by itself. Why didn’t her machine pick up, at least? He hung up and tried her cell.
“C’mon, Zoe. Answer the phone,” he urged as concern mounted. Maybe she was just in the shower. He’d call from the station.
Jake backed out of the driveway and headed toward the firehouse. Traffic had let up finally. Apparently everyone had gotten to wherever they planned to sit out the storm and hunkered down for the duration. After another harrowing fifteen minutes of white-knuckle driving, he pulled into the parking lot in front of Joel’s. The shiny New York-style diner glimmered wetly in the driving rain. Security lights glowed weakly from the darkened interior. Joel had closed early. Jake tried calling Zoe again. Same result.
With rain driving relentlessly against the windshield, Jake tried to decide if he should continue on to the station or detour back to check on Zoe. Darkness had come down like the curtain at the end of a play. Jake couldn’t see the tossing trees anymore, only flashes of light as branches danced between him and lights around the condo complex across the street. Flooding was inevitable, and the fire department would be called out to help with emergencies, but concern for Zoe nagged uncomfortably.
She was probably fine.
But what if she wasn’t?
Jake tried both phones again. No answer at either number.
The station would have to wait. He dialed the station number and told the dispatcher where he was headed. Then he pulled out and turned back toward home.
The first sign of trouble loomed across the entrance to Awbrey Circle. The old tree that he’d thought would weather a hundred more storms had lost the fight in the forty-five minutes since he’d left to take the girls over to Kate’s. It completely blocked access to the cul-de-sac and had taken down a pole and the power and phone lines with it.
They’d had too much rain, and the ground had been too wet. The entire root system had given way. Jake inched past the branches that extended into the main road and pulled the van into the entrance of a new subdivision that had never been built. He reached into the glove box and found his flashlight, then got out of the van.
Before he’d gone ten feet, his jeans were soaked. It felt like he was climbing a mountain just battling his way back up the road to the cul-de-sac, but eventually he reached the downed tree. Branches creaked in the wind as he picked his way under and over and through the tangled mess. The tree had toppled the old brick gatepost as well, and he had to take care not to trip over jumbled chunks of brick and mortar. A tossing branch snatched his hat off. Jake made a futile grab for it before it disappeared into the dark.
Stepping free of the tree at last, Jake broke into a run. He cut across the grassy island in the center of Awbrey Circle and dashed up Zoe’s walk. Taking the steps three at a time, he almost crashed into her door before he slid to a stop on the rain-slick porch.
“Zoe!” Jake pounded on the door. The house was completely dark without power. Zoe hadn’t even lit a candle. “Zoe!”
No answer.
Jake tried the door. It opened. He should have known! Dripping all over her polished floor, he yanked the door shut and called again. “Zoe?”
“I’m . . . in the . . . kitchen.” Her voice sounded strained and frightened.
Jake hurried to the kitchen. His wet boots slipped and skidded as he went. He flashed his light around the kitchen. Zoe crouched beside the back door. His heart jumped into his throat. He scrambled to her side.
“What happened? Are you hurt?”
She lifted her head to look at him. Her eyes were huge and dark with fright. “The baby is coming.”
Chapter 33
PANIC LANCED into Jake.
“But it’s too soon! Almost a month too soon.”
Zoe clutched at his rain-soaked
slicker. “I know—” She broke off with a gasp and doubled up.
Please, God! Not here. Not now. Not like this. Jake prayed frantically. Cold sweat sprang out on his brow. Not another premature baby. He couldn’t bear it. Not again. Not Zoe. This couldn’t be happening.
Zoe’s face crunched in pain, then slowly cleared. Her fingers loosened their death grip on his slicker. Jake tried to gather his wits while his brain scrambled to deny Zoe’s announcement. She couldn’t be in labor. She had another month to go.
“I tried to call you,” Zoe whispered raggedly. “But there was no dial tone.”
“Lines are down,” Jake responded automatically. His heart and mind didn’t want to accept the disaster facing him.
“The dogs, Jake.” Suddenly, Zoe doubled over again, clutching her belly. “Got to . . . let . . . the dogs . . . in.”
Ignoring the dogs, Jake held on to Zoe until the contraction passed. His mind raced. He needed to get Zoe to the hospital. But an ambulance couldn’t get to the house. Neither could his van. No way she could make her way through that downed tree either. Even with help.
“The dogs,” Zoe reminded him as she straightened again.
Reluctantly, Jake left her and moved toward the door. The moment the door cracked open, a dripping-wet canine trio bolted into the room. They immediately went to Zoe and began nosing her thighs.
“Sorry, guys.” Zoe bent to pat each sopping head. “I keep doggy towels in the bottom drawer.” She pointed in the general direction of the corner cabinet.
Jake yanked the drawer open and grabbed a towel. Before he’d finished giving the dogs a quick rubdown, Zoe was huffing and puffing and clutching the counter for support.