The Christmas Baby Surprise

by Shirley Jump

  “Hey!” She gave him another light jab. “Why is it that all these scenarios have you with the easy life?”

  He laughed. “Because I am naturally lazy.”

  “That is as far from the truth as you can get. You are one of the hardest-working men I have ever met, Cole.”

  They had reached the end of the street and pivoted to head back toward the diner. “But I thought you hated how many hours I worked.”

  “I do. I did. But I still admire you for putting in the hours to go after what you wanted. You kept going when other people would have given up. When it comes to business, Cole, you are like a pit bull.”

  The implication—that he hadn’t been that way about their marriage. He saw that now, and prayed for the thousandth time that he wasn’t too late. He couldn’t read Emily, though, and that concerned him. He’d always thought he knew her better than he knew himself, but lately it was as if she had opened an ever-widening divide between the two of them, one he couldn’t get across no matter how hard he tried. Was it because she’d grown so far apart from him that he couldn’t reach her? Or was he just that out of tune with the woman he had married?

  Too soon, they reached the glass doors of the diner. As soon as they walked inside, Emily was greeted by the diner’s hostess, an older woman named Alice, who remembered Emily from years before. The two chatted, then Alice led them over to the last booth in the back corner. “Enjoy your meal, kids,” she said to Cole and Emily.

  Cole tugged a menu out of the holder behind the napkin dispenser and handed the plastic-coated paper to Emily. “I recommend the chef’s special,” he said. “Tonight, that’s meat loaf and mashed potatoes.”

  She laughed. “I see you got the best table, too.”

  “It’s the most private one they had. No musicians, but I hear if we stay late enough, Donny Greer will get drunk and start serenading the patrons.”

  Emily sat back against the red vinyl booth and studied him. “You really know an awful lot about this town for only being here a few days.”

  He shrugged. “It’s a friendly place. You can’t leave the hardware store without a new best friend.”

  “That must drive you crazy,” Emily said. “I know how you hate to waste time on small talk.”

  In a business situation he hated delaying a meeting or a decision with chitchat about sports teams or the weather. In the office, Cole cut to the chase, intent only on getting through this task and on to the next demand on his time.

  Since he had arrived in Barrow’s Cove, though, he had taken the time to slow down, talk with the locals, enjoy the sunshine and turning leaves. He’d had more conversations with Emily in the past few days than the two of them had had in years. No matter where things went from here, Cole would make time for more of these small, simple conversations. Especially with Emily.

  “Actually, I kind of like it,” Cole said. “It reminds me of our old neighborhood. Remember Mrs. Timmons?”

  Their elderly downstairs neighbor in that first terrible apartment building had possessed a sixth sense that had brought her out of her rooms every time Cole or Emily came home. She’d been an inquisitive woman, but in a grandmotherly way.

  The memory lit Emily’s eyes. “Oh, my goodness. Mrs. Timmons. A little too friendly sometimes. I think she looked at us as her surrogate kids. Gosh, she was always on our doorstep, making sure we were eating right and getting enough sleep.”

  “If I remember right,” he said, lowering his voice and leaning closer, “we were a little too busy to do much of either. And those were details we never shared with Mrs. Timmons.”

  Emily’s face flushed. She raised the menu, blushed some more when she realized it was upside-down, then hurried to right it. She kept her gaze on the typed pages. “Uh, what are you thinking about ordering?”

  “Tonight, I want the biggest burger they make.”

  “Really? Mr. Healthy Eating is getting a burger?”

  “I figure I’ve burned off a burger and then some, doing all that work on the inn. And there’s just something about working in the sun all day that makes a man want some red meat and a beer.”

  She laughed. “Next you’ll be driving a pickup and chewing tobacco.”

  “I don’t think there’s a chance of that anytime soon.” He grinned.

  She studied the menu a while longer, then put it to the side. “You know what? I think I’ll have the same. I’m ravenous all of a sudden.”

  “All that writing working up an appetite?”

  “Yeah.” She said that too fast, and hoped he wouldn’t notice.

  The waitress came by, saving Emily from having to answer any other questions about her sudden appetite. They ordered two burgers with fries, with Cole opting for a beer and Emily sticking to ice water.

  Cole didn’t notice she stayed away from alcohol, nor had he noticed her daily breakfast of crackers, the only thing that helped abate her morning sickness. Maybe he was just being a stereotypical clueless male.

  Either way, she couldn’t keep this secret forever. Before she knew it, she’d be sporting a baby bump—and that would be something Cole would notice for sure.

  When the waitress was gone, Cole reached into his pocket and pulled out a small paper bag. “I have something for you,” Cole said, “I meant to wrap it, but...”

  “For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve never wrapped a present.” She shook her head, amusement in her features. “I don’t think you even know where we keep the Scotch tape.”

  He thought a second. “Okay, you’ve got me there. Where do we keep the Scotch tape?”

  “The end drawer in the kitchen. The scissors are in there too, by the way.”

  He nodded. “I’ll remember that for next time. I promise.”

  She bit her lip, not wanting to spoil the date by reminding him that they were going to sell the house, divvy up their possessions, and then he would have his own place for Scotch tape, and she would have her own. Because a part of her didn’t want to be reminded that soon, they’d be living separate lives. She touched the blank spot on her left hand, a reminder she no longer wore her ring. Cole, however, still wore his gold band. As far as she knew, he hadn’t taken it off once in ten years.

  Instead of the dose of reality, she said, “And the wrapping paper is in the hall closet.”

  He smiled. “I’ll remember that, too, Em. Now, open your gift.”

  She opened the bag and peeked inside to find a thick leather-bound journal and a silver pen. She drew them out, admiring the weight and quality of the gifts. “They’re...beautiful.”

  He gestured toward the book. “The journal was handmade by Beatrice Wickham. She lives on the other side of the lake and has a little corner in the hardware store where she sells her handmade creations. She remembered you and said this would be perfect for, and I quote, ‘that little girl who was always writing those stories.’”

  Emily ran her hand over the stitched cover. A long crimson ribbon hung from the inside of the book, just waiting to mark her place. Her heart softened at the thoughtfulness of the gift. It was simple and special, not just because it had been handmade by a local artisan, but because it had been crafted in the one place on earth that meant so much to Emily. The same place that had been instrumental in the new direction she was taking with her life. “It’s beautiful, Cole.” Though the adjective, even repeated a second time, seemed inadequate.

  Cole nodded toward the book. “Open it up.”

  She did as he asked and found an inscription on the first page. Cole’s familiar slanted handwriting, all angles and precision, like the man himself, filled the space.

  Use this book and pen to write the stories in your heart. Let it take you from once upon a time to happily ever after. And maybe, in the process, you can find your own happily ever after, too.

  He hadn’t sign
ed his name, or used the word Love. She wondered if it was because he didn’t want to push her or because he no longer felt that way about her. Either way, the gift touched her.

  Because Cole had listened.

  For almost ten years, she’d complained that he didn’t listen, didn’t pay attention, didn’t engage. Now he was asking her where they kept the tape and writing words that encouraged her to pursue her dreams. Why now? Why after she had decided the marriage was over, and had steeled herself to say goodbye?

  She raised her gaze and cursed the tears brimming in her eyes. “Why didn’t you ever do this before?”

  He crossed his hands on the table and let out a long breath. “Because I didn’t realize that helping me go after my dreams came at the cost of yours. For a long time, I’ve fooled myself into thinking that you were happy, that you wanted all the same things I did. But now I know you sacrificed your dreams for mine. I’m sorry it took me so long to figure that out.”

  “It’s okay, Cole.” She placed her palm on top of the book and imagined the words that would fill it in the weeks ahead. She’d sit on the porch of the inn or on the dock and scribble her ideas and snippets of scenes. It was the perfect vehicle to inspire and encourage her writing. “Thank you very much.”

  The waitress returned with their drinks. Cole raised his glass toward hers. “To new beginnings.”

  “To new beginnings,” she echoed, and clinked against his. If he only knew the new beginning growing inside her right now.

  A part of her felt horrible for keeping the secret from him. He deserved to know about the baby, even if he didn’t want it. And maybe if he saw how determined she was to move forward as a single mom, he’d give up this hope that she wanted to go back to the life they’d had before. It was past time to tell Cole about the baby.

  “You have that look again,” Cole said. “The furrowed brow. The worry in your eyes. What’s up?”

  That was the problem with being married to a man for ten years. He noticed when she wasn’t acting like herself. She tried to work up the courage to tell him, then chickened out at the last second when she saw the waitress approaching with their burgers. “Why don’t we talk about it after dinner?”

  Cole agreed, and as they dived into the juicy burgers, they talked about everything and nothing. The kind of easygoing conversations they used to have back in their college days, mingled with a lot of laughs. Cole filled her in on some updates about some of the people she knew at the company, and she told him the latest gossip from the wives. They traded golf tips, reminisced about a favorite restaurant that had shut its doors, and in general, acted like an ordinary couple.

  All the while, the specter of Emily’s secret waited on the sidelines. Once she told him, it would change everything.

  When they were done, Cole paid the waitress, adding a generous tip, then took Emily’s hand as they left the diner. The move felt so natural, so right. She leaned against his arm as they stepped out into the chilly late-November night. Without a word, Cole released her, and instead drew her close, shielding Emily from the cold. She had missed the simple touches between a couple, the way Cole could read her mind and provide what she needed at the moment she needed it most. Yet another sign he was finally paying attention.

  “That was nice,” she said.

  “Very nice.” He pressed a gentle, easy kiss against her forehead, and Emily thought that she couldn’t have imagined a more perfect night with her husband. The warm comfort of being with someone who knew her filled Emily, and she began to believe that maybe they could right this sinking ship after all.

  The only shadow that lingered at the end of the night was the secret in her belly. She pressed a hand over her abdomen and sent up a silent prayer that maybe Cole would be as excited about their child as she was.

  Cole opened the door for her and she slid into the warmth of the rental car. He held her hand the whole way back to the inn, glancing over at her from time to time, as if to make sure she was real. Unspoken tension filled the dark space of the car, the tension that came with knowing they were both going back to a place with beds, a married couple who hadn’t been together in a long, long time. Every once in a while, Cole would squeeze her hand, telling her he knew the same thing.

  This could end in a sweet, delicious way, with her in his arms, in his bed. Oh, how she wanted that. She’d tell him later, she decided. After just a little more of this, a few more minutes in this perfect bubble.

  They pulled into the driveway, and Cole turned off the car, then turned to Emily in the dark. “Let’s have more nights like that. From here on out, at least once a week. I think we just forgot how to connect, Emily. If we can start connecting again, then maybe we can get back to where we were.”

  “Or get to where we are going.”

  He nodded, then reached up and cupped her jaw. She leaned into the touch, drifted a kiss across his palm.

  “Wherever that is, I want to go with you.” Cole closed the distance between them and kissed her, softly at first, then shifting to a harder, hungrier embrace. Desire slid through her like hot syrup on pancakes, pooling in her gut, overriding her common sense. She knew Cole’s body, and oh, how he knew hers.

  Hot need spiked inside her, for the way he could make her body sing, for the touch of his fingers inside her, his kisses running down her body, over her breasts. One kiss, one touch, and she could have that, just one more time. What would it hurt?

  Before she could think twice, Emily surged into her husband, driven by a desire too long unmet. She tangled her fingers in Cole’s hair, drawing him halfway across the car. He groaned and crushed her to him, one hand sneaking between them in a hot hurry, sliding under her blouse, tugging out of her jeans, and then his hand was on her skin, fingers slipping under the band of her bra, sliding up, over her breast, cupping it while his thumb traced a ravenous circle around her nipple.

  She fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, trying to undo them while she arched against his touch, distracted by the magic Cole’s fingers created. Then his shirt was undone, untucked, and her hands were on his chest, but it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. She wanted all of him, and wanted him now. “In...inside?”

  “Yeah.” The word tore from his throat. Cole gave Emily one last heated look of longing, then he drew away, sprinting out of the car and opening her door just as she got her shirt pulled down. They hurried into the inn like two teenagers out past curfew and rushed up the stairs to Emily’s room.

  As soon as they were inside, Cole spun her around and pressed her against the wall, shutting the door with his foot. His hands slid under her shirt, tugging it over her head and tossing it to the side. “God, Emily, you are beautiful.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  He cupped her face with his hands and met her gaze. “I’ve never stopped wanting you.”

  The temptation to lose herself in this moment, in Cole’s eyes and his touch, washed over her. She wanted him, wanted the magic they’d once had.

  Even if it wasn’t real.

  That realization iced her desire. If she took tonight one step further with Cole, she’d be creating a fictional moment of closeness. That wasn’t fair or right for either of them. If they made love, it had to be for all the right reasons—and with all the cards on the table.

  This wasn’t some one-night stand or a senseless fling with a stranger she’d never see again. No, this was her husband, and she was carrying his baby.

  Emily drew in a fortifying breath and put her hands on Cole’s chest. “Before we do anything, I have something to tell you.”

  He covered her hands with his. “If it’s how good that burger was, I think it can wait.” He started to kiss her again, but she pulled away.

  “No, Cole. Please. This is something much more important.”

  He shifted back. “What do you need to tell me, Em?”
>
  Now that the moment had arrived, Emily hesitated. She knew, for better or worse, that the next two words would change everything between them. Forever.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  It took a solid minute for the words to sink into Cole’s brain. They echoed in the quiet space, in his head, and his mind spiraled back through time, to another night, a hot summer evening when he’d gone over to the house on the hill and begged Emily for a second chance. They’d split a bottle of wine, and before he knew it, they were back in the bedroom and she was back in his arms, and he wasn’t thinking about pregnancy or anything else but Emily.

  “I thought you were on the pill,” he said, and even as the words came out of his mouth, he had a feeling that was the wrong first response to such a monumental statement. But he didn’t know what else to say or how to react to this.

  A child. That was the one thing Cole had never wanted. A chance he’d never wanted to take. He’d told Emily someday they’d have kids because he kept thinking the further he got in life, the better chance there was that he would change his mind, but he hadn’t. A little late to realize it, though.

  “I was on the pill. But then we broke up and...” She shrugged. “I didn’t see the point in taking it if I wasn’t having sex.”

  “Except for that night.”

  She nodded. “I didn’t think one night could...well, I mean, I knew it could, but I wasn’t thinking about that then.”

  “Neither of us were.”

  He took a step back and ran a hand through his hair. “Pregnant?” Maybe if he repeated the word it would become real, something he could get his head around.

  She nodded. “Three months along.”

  He kept waiting for that rush of joy, of expectation, to come over him, but it was as if Cole’s guts had gone cold. No emotions filled him, nothing but shock. He nodded once, then looked at Emily. “What are you going to do about it?”

  The light in her eyes dimmed, replaced by a flash of hurt, followed by the flames of anger. “What am I going to do about it? Trust me, Cole, you don’t need to worry about that. I didn’t tell you about the baby because I wanted your money or your support or anything at all from you. I’m having this baby—” as she spoke, her hand covered her belly with a protective touch “—by myself. And I am just fine with that.”